“It’s pretty,” I tell Lexi. “Suits that sexy surfer vibe you got going on.”
Georgia laughs and Lexi rolls her eyes.
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask again.
“It’s spring break,” Lexi says. “We’re heading to Cabo with our parents and thought we could drag you out of this house and get you into the sun for a few days. I’m dying to hit the waves.”
I’m already shaking my head before she can finish, and both of them frown. “I appreciate it, but I’m just not ready for all that.” The last time I was in Cabo was with Ian during spring break of his senior year.
“Ready for what?” Lexi argues. “Flying on a private plane to Cabo and spending five days lying out by the pool and beach?”
I get what she’s saying, but I can’t explain it. The idea of having fun there without him makes me sick to my stomach. Every memory we created would be replaced with ones without him. I can’t do it. All I have left are my memories. I can’t replace them…
“Ian and I went to Cabo together,” I choke out.
Both girls frown and nod.
“You can’t do this forever,” Lexi says.
“But she can have more time,” Georgia argues.
Time: Something I thought Ian and I had plenty of. Only it ran out long before it was supposed to, leaving me with only his memory.
“I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I can’t. I hate that you came all this way…”
“We flew in with our parents. Dad had some business with the gym before we go,” Georgia says.
“Next time,” I offer, my tone holding no conviction.
“Okay.” Lexi sighs, pulling me in for a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I tell her, before I give Georgia a hug. “Have fun.”
As they’re walking out the door, my mom walks in. She gives them each a hug and tells them to have a good time. And then we’re alone.
She doesn’t say anything at first, just walks over to the balcony where I was sitting and picks up the worn-out paper. “How many of these have you written?” she asks, holding it up.
“None.”
Her eyes widen briefly. “But I’ve seen you…”
“That’s all I’ve written.” I nod toward the paper, my throat filling back up with unshed emotion. I hate that all I do is cry. And when I finally get myself composed, I cry again.
“Oh, Micaela.” Mom drops the letter on my bed and pulls me into her embrace. “I hate to see you like this, my sweet girl.” My face falls against her chest and I let out a choked sob. “I miss you so much,” she murmurs while I cry into her shirt. “It’s time, sweetie. Time to move forward. You deserve to have a life.”
“I don’t know how to get past this,” I admit. “My heart… It hurts, Mom.” Tremors rack my body, and my mom holds me tighter. “I feel like I’m frozen in place to fifteen months ago, on Christmas morning when I found out Ian died. Everything I do or think reminds me of him, of us.” I sniffle. “We had plans, and now…” I hiccup. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel so lost. He was supposed to be my forever.”
Mom pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes. “You take it one day at a time. One step a day. It’s all you can do. But you have to actually move forward.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Only you can figure that out,” she says. “You’re the one grieving. But sitting in this room, avoiding life, isn’t the answer.” She kisses my forehead. “I’m heading to the rec center. Would you like to join me?” My parents help run a recreational center that was created to keep kids off the streets. My grandparents started it because my dad used to be one of those kids.
I shake my head. “I just…”
“I know.” She nods, a frown marring her face. “You want to be alone.” The way she says the words has my stomach churning. My grieving is not only affecting me, but is also affecting my family. Sure, they give me my space, but they also take turns checking on me every day. Even my aunts and uncles have started to join in the rotation.
My mom gives my arm a squeeze and then walks out. Taking the paper from the bed, I sit on the balcony and stare at it. My mom is right. Only I can move forward, and sitting here in this room day after day, trying to write a letter I can’t write isn’t helping. What’s that saying? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. I need to try something new. I can’t keep living like this. It’s breaking my parents’ hearts.
But where would I go? Cabo is out of the question. I need to go somewhere I haven’t been with Ian. A place I can focus on healing and moving forward. Maybe even make a new plan. My stomach knots. The only plan I want is one that includes Ian. Only that’s never going to happen.