I can feel the change in my body, the way my mouth droops and the tension around my eyes dissipates as I realize Cam’s right.
“Shit,” he says, his face blanching as he realizes he hit an exposed nerve.“Jo—”
“Cameron Peters, what did you do?”My mom’s voice breaks through the fog quickly filling my head and pulls my attention to the doorway where she stands with her hands on her hips and a scolding gaze directed toward my brother.
“Mom—”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I say.“He was just pointing out what’s apparently been obvious to everyone except me.”
My mom sits down in the loveseat across from us and leans forward.“Honey, there are no set rules for grief.Feel what you feel when you feel it.It’s okay.”
“It’s not.It’s not okay.”My shoulders sag as the weight of the last eleven months sits heavily on my shoulders.“I’m tired, Mom.I’m tired of feeling like this.Of feeling like I might be getting better one minute and then falling apart the next.And worst of all, I feel guilty forwantingto not miss him anymore.But I’mso exhaustedall the time.”
I bury my face in my hands to hide the rush of tears building in my eyes.I’m so tired of crying, of mourning, of missing him.And that makes me feel like the worst kind of wife because I should miss him with every breath I take.Right?
The warmth of my mom’s soft hand on my arm causes me to drop my hands, letting her see all the turmoil I’m feeling so clearly on my face.
“Robbie wouldn’t want to see you suffer like this, Jo.He’d want you to live your life and be happy.It’s okay to let yourself be happy.”
“It doesn’t feel okay.It feels like moving on.”
She gives my arm a gentle squeeze, her eyes kind as she says softly, “Because it is.”Bending forward so I can’t avoid her gaze, she says, “It’s okay to move on, Jolie.It’s okay.It’sokay.”
Her words crack something open inside of me and I get up, rushing to their upstairs bathroom where I know I won’t be disturbed.I barely get the door shut before the tears pour in torrents down my face.I take deep heaving breaths trying to find enough air to fill my deprived lungs, but there’s too much.Too much emotion.Too muchfeeling.
The door creaks open and then clicks shut right before I feel strong arms wrap around me.
“It’s okay.Let it out,” my dad says.
“I miss him so much,” I cry.
“I know you do, honey.I know you do.”
I don’t know how long we sit there on my parents’ bathroom floor while I cry and my dad holds me.By the time my tears finally subside and my heaving breaths have turned into small hiccups, I’m completely spent.
“I need to go home.”
My dad drops a kiss to the top of my head where it rests against his shoulder.“You’re gonna be okay, Jo.”There’s no doubt in his tone—he believes what he says.
I wish I could believe it too.
I put the car in park, but don’t get out.I stare vacantly at the daffodils I planted out front, their bright yellow seeming like such a happy color.I remember so vividly the conversation Robbie and I had about which plants would go in the garden.My gaze sweeps across the landscape of my front yard, seeing it all as if it’s not mine but belongs to someone else.
Once upon a time, this house was a dream come true.It checked all the boxes—safe neighborhood, great schools, and the perfect size for two people with room to grow once we started our family.It became the symbol of our life together, almost as much as the rings we wore on our left hands—the ring I still wear.
Now it’s a reminder of everything I’ve lost.It’s no longer my happy place.
Movement by the garage catches my eye, and I have to remind myself to breathe when I see Tristan walk out with the electric edger in hand.But it’s not the tool he’s carrying that surprises me.It’s his bare chest glistening with sweat, his tattoos vibrant against his tan skin, as he uses the back of his free hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Another quick glance at the yard and I realize he mowed for me.Come to think of it, I haven’t had to mow the yard once since Robbie died.I didn’t even think about it.Pulling my keys from the ignition, I get out of the car, my gaze locked on Tristan.The thud of my door closing causes him to turn in my direction, and I must be imagining it, but it looks like a slight blush stains his cheeks when he sees me.
I stop five feet away from him, his deep blue eyes watching my every move, but he remains silent.
“All this time…” I glance around the yard again and then look at him, shaking my head.“Have you been taking care of my yard this whole time?”
He nods, but still doesn’t speak.
“Why?”I choke out.My emotions are all over the place today, but for some reason I’m desperate to understand why he’s done this for me without telling me.