“Do you need help?”
“No,” I answer too quickly. “It’s not that I can’t do it. I just…feel weird about it.”
“When my mom died, it took me a year to clean out her house.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It was hands down one of the hardest things I had to do. It felt like losing her all over again.” She meets my eyes and begins rapidly blinking. “Oh geez, I’m not helping, am I?” She reaches across the table and places her hand on mine. A jolt of desire hits me deep in my guts.
”It’s okay. I know it has to be done and maybe, I’m just not ready to do it.” Anastasia nods, allowing a comfortable silence to wrap itself around the two of us. “I never came to visit her until she got sick.” The words flow from my mouth before I can stop them, but it feels so good to tell someone else the things I’ve been keeping inside.
“That woman did everything for me when I was little. Hell she made sure I graduated from high school even when she herself didn’t. It was her mission in life that I turn out better than she did.” I run my finger over my brow, wishing away the sudden swelling of emotion rising in my chest.
“Where did you go?” Anastasia asks, her voice low and gentle.
“I was in California, living my life. Surfing, doing construction, making friends—it all seemed so much more important than seeing my mom. Mentally, I’d moved away from the idea that I was this poor kid from a broken home. Going to visit her only reminded me of the past and who I still sometimes thought of myself as. When mom moved to Thunder Mountain, I didn’t even come home to help her unpack. I figured my step-dad was good for that. Then he left her, and I still didn’t visit even though I knew she was hurting.”
“You can’t take it back, Valen.”
“What?” Anastasia’s words, though soft and kind, hit me like a sledgehammer.
“What’s done is done. You ran to her side when you learned she was sick, right?”
“Of course.”
“You were here with her for her last moments of life.” I nod, unable to speak for fear of crying. “That’s all that matters. She knew you loved her. Youdidhelp her when she needed it most.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe, you pig-headed man.” She slams her fist on the table. “You can’t continue living with this kind of guilt; you’ll end up sick yourself. I don’t want that to happen. You have to forgive yourself.”
“Forgive myself.” The words sound foreign in my mouth, but as soon as they’re spoken out loud, I realize that Anastasia is right. I do need to forgive myself, but it’s going to take time. “I can try.”
“Do or do not. There is no try.”
“Star Wars,” I say, the somber mood dissipating between us.
“My favorite movie.”
“Mine too. I remember watching that movie multiple times as a kid. How my mom said, I’d wear the VHS out.”
“Ooh, you’re dating yourself, Valen.”
“No VHS for you?”
“Only DVDs, baby.” She looks so proud of herself that I have to laugh.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel so much better.” Her smile fades, and I hope I haven’t said the wrong thing. She licks her full lips, and I wish more than anything right now that they were pressed up against my own.
“Because I want to make you feel better, Valen.” She lets out a long sigh. “And I think I have an idea on how.” The chair skids against the floor when she stands. She abruptly leaves the room, a woman on a mission. When she returns, she’s holding a remote control in her hand.
“You want to give me a remote?”
“No,” she sits into one hip. “I want to have a movie night.”