Gwen’s gorgeous face is replaced with Clara’s equally gorgeous one. Short blond hair replaces brown, and green eyes replace blue. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter when my beautiful baby girl’s face appears. I miss them so fucking much. I want to reach inside my mind, snatch them out, and place them in front of me so I can touch them. Knowing that’s impossible, I also want to shove them away. I want to forget them because remembering them hurts so damn much. But then the thought of doing that sends splinters of pain to my chest and stomach. It makes me physically ill.
A hand grips my shoulder tightly, and I look up to see James standing beside me, a look of empathy on his face.
“No pressure, but you really need to think about the possibility of moving on. You can’t hold on to them forever.”
He lets go, walks out of the kitchen, and a minute later, I hear the click of the front door closing. Gigi nudges my thigh with her nose, sensing my pain, and I absently reach down and rub her head.
Unable to stomach food at the moment, I put the sandwich in a container and place it in the fridge for later. My eyes land on the earrings on the counter, and I finger one of them.
Last night, when I saw her message, my body tensed, ready to bolt into action and race to town. When she said she just wanted to say hi, I relaxed back in bed, but adrenaline still ran through my veins. It’s been a week since I saw her, and it surprised me how much I missed her. And Daniel and Kelsey. There’s been several times I’ve caught myself grabbing for my keys to drive to town and hunt her down. I don’t know where she lives, but it wouldn’t take much to find out.
When she mentioned Kelsey using the crossword puzzle I made for her and Daniel carrying the horse around with him, it warmed my heart. My eyes land on the small box in the living room that carries part of my grandfather’s wood carving collection. Two days after they left, I was in the barn tending to the horses when I came across the box. My mind automatically went to Daniel. Wiping off the dust, I carried the box inside. I didn’t know then why I brought them into the house. There were no plans for me to see Daniel again, but something compelled me. Maybe a small glimmer of hope that I would see him again.
Picking up the earrings, I put them in my pocket and leave the kitchen. I take a seat on the couch and grab the notebook from the end table. I flip it open to about a quarter of the way through. Last night I told Gwen I’d have to make Kelsey another crossword puzzle for when she was done with her current one. What I didn’t say was I had already started on one. The last one was a rush job, so I’m sure to a seasoned crossword puzzler—like Kelsey seems to be—they’re easy. I’m making this one a bit more tough.
I spend the next couple hours working on the crossword puzzles, then dig through the box of wooden figurines. There are several different horses, they were my grandfather’s favorite to carve, but there’s also other animals. I pick up a fox, specifically remembering when he carved it. He had just gotten done with the tail when the knife slipped and cut into his finger. He didn’t use the special whittling knives, but just a regular pocket knife. He said it was just a hobby to him, so he wasn’t going to spend a lot of money on whittling knives.
The knife cut through and the only thing that stopped it from chopping off his finger was the bone. I was eight at the time, so when I saw the blood, I turned white and had to sit on the floor before I passed out. I watched as he grabbed several napkins, wrapped them around his finger, and taped them on with masking tape. He then proceeded to finish the fox. Later that day when my grandmother saw his bandage job, she started yelling at him for waiting too long to have it tended to. He drank a bottle of whiskey while she sewed him up. That was grandpa, stubborn and tough as they came.
I chuckle when I run my finger over the rusty bloodstain that never came out of the wood. I put it back down and pick up a carved dinosaur. Or what’s supposed to be a carved dinosaur. This was my one and only attempt at wood carving and it turn out to be a disaster. I ended up cutting myself as well, but unlike my grandpa, my mom insisted I go get stitches. I was ten and it hurt like a bitch, so I told my grandpa that I’d leave the wood carving up to him.
After looking through the box a few more minutes, I close it up. If given the opportunity, I’ll let Daniel pick out the ones he likes.
I call Gigi and we both go outside to close up the barn and make sure the horses are in their respective stalls for the night. The sun’s already setting as we walk across the yard. As much as I enjoy winter, I hate the short days.
Once the horses are situated, Gigi and I go back inside, completely ignoring Clara’s house. I’ve had enough of the memories for today. Gigi trots to the utility room, while I head to the bathroom for a shower. I had to put the pups back in the utility room because the little rascals were starting to tear shit apart. I normally let them out in the evenings to roam when I’m around to keep an eye on them. A couple of days ago, I started letting them out in the yard.
Stripping down, I make sure to keep my eyes away from the mirror. Although the scars cover half of my body, I’ve found that if I don’t actually look at myself in the mirror, I can keep the haunting memories at bay easier.
My shower is quick, and I’m out and dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt ten minutes later. Without looking at the photo, I place it back in the drawer next to the other two before going out to the living room. My phone flashes, indicating I have a notification. My heart rate picks up when I think it might be from Gwen.
I grab it off the counter, disappointment hitting when I realize it’s from James. I also have an e-mail from Brice, June’s owner. I sent him an e-mail earlier today letting him know that June’s ready to be picked up. I pull up Brice’s e-mail first, confirming the pickup for tomorrow at three. Next, I open James’s message.
James: I meant to
tell you earlier. Mom invited you over for Christmas. I told her I’d bring it up to you.
I type out a quick reply.
Me: Tell your mom I said thanks and Happy Holidays, but I’ll be busy.
He already knew the answer and so does his mom, but he tries every year. I’m grateful to Martha for caring, but Christmas isn’t a good time for me, and I’d be shitty company. I always spend Christmas alone, mentally preparing for the next day, the anniversary of their deaths. Every year, I spend the day that they died with my good friend Jameson. It’s the only time of year when I get shitfaced. It’s also the two days a year that no one should be around me.
The ding of my phone interrupts my thoughts. Thinking it’s James replying, I swipe my finger across the screen without looking, then pull in a deep breath when I see Gwen’s name instead. I settle down in a chair before pulling open her message.
Gwen: Hey. Sorry to bother you again, but I wanted to ask when Gigi’s puppies will be ready to adopt? If you’re adopting them out, that is.
My lips tip up into a smile.
Me: They should be ready next week.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Gwen: Before Christmas maybe?!
I chuckle at her excitement.
Me: Yes.