Noah stops and gives my mother a hug. She’s short and has to stand on her tippy toes to get her arms around his broad shoulders. I’m jealous that she and Elle get to hug him and I can’t. I’d give anything to feel his arms around me, at least one more time.
Mom waits until Noah and Elle are out of sight before she comes in and sits down. She picks up my hand and holds it to her face. The ring that my dad gave her when our adoptions were final doesn’t sparkle inside this drab room. It’s almost as if the ring has died a bit because I’m in here. I remember, after he gave it to her, I used to try it on. It’s always been my favorite piece of jewelry and I think it’s because it represents my family.
“My sweet baby girl,” she whispers against the back of my hand. I’d give anything to tell her how much I love her, to make sure she knows she is the best mother I could’ve asked for, but I can’t, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.
I vaguely remember speaking to her yesterday. Or was it the day before? My memory before the accident is fuzzy. Did I interrupt her time with my aunts? Would she have told me if I did? No, I can’t imagine she would’ve. My mom has always put Elle, Quinn and I first, over my dad and the band. Even though I can’t remember my conversation with her, I’m telling myself that she was happy for me. I hope I told her I love her and miss her.
I wish she had come to visit me instead. If she did, maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. There is no way I would miss time with my mom to go out to dinner with a handsome quarterback, although she probably would’ve encouraged me to.
“There are so many things I want to say to you, Peyton, but I don’t know where to start. I hope you know that you have been the best daughter. You remind me so much of your father. I see him in your eyes, your smile and the way you command a room when you walk in. You’ve always been noticeable, even when you thought Elle was stealing the spotlight.”
“That’s because she was,” I blurt out. Elle has always had an indescribable air about her. When she walked into a room, people flocked to her. We were both popular in school, but Elle seemed to hold herself higher than I did. I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with being that way.
“When you see–”
A gut-wrenching sob takes over my mom’s voice. Her head falls to my leg as she cries. I’m there to comfort her, wishing with all my might she could feel my hand rubbing through her hair. I rest my body on top of hers, holding her as tightly as I can. “It’ll be okay, Mama.” But I’m not sure I even believe what I’m saying.
She cries louder, hiccupping and muttering words that I can’t make out. In a flash, she’s out of my arms and being held by my dad. It’s as if he knew she needed him. He’s always known. He sits on the floor with her on his lap, holding her to his chest as he rocks her back and forth.
“I know it hurts, baby. Our girl is strong though, we have to have a little hope.”
“She’s so cold, Harrison.”
“I can feel her slipping away from me,” Elle says, causing my mom to cry louder. I glance at the door to find my sister and Quinn. They both descend on our parents, arms all tangled within a tight circle, one that I’m not a part of. “I haven’t felt right since before we got the call. And now I’m starting to feel numb in certain places.” The freaky twin connection is real, at least it is between us. We can sense things about each other. It’s weird and most of the time I don’t like it.
I especially didn’t like it the morning after Noah and I… well, the morning after prom. Elle knew something had happened and even though I smiled and acted like nothing was amiss, she hounded me for days, wanting to know why she felt odd. When she lost her virginity, I didn’t have to say anything because she told me about it. Every. Last. Detail. We’re sisters. We share. Except when we don’t. Any and everything I feel about Noah is off limits. As far as Elle and the rest of my family is concerned, Noah’s my best friend. To me, he’s the man I’m desperately in love with.
Being in love with Noah is difficult. It’s like chasing a butterfly without a net. He’s there, looking catchable and when I think I can get close enough, he flutters away and is out of reach. I know being with him is a stupid fantasy, but part of me wishes it’d come true. And now it’s probably too late.