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“Goodnight.”
I sit there, alone in the dark, until I hear tires on the gravel driveway.
‘Well, that’s my cue to leave,’ I think. The last thing I need is to run into Mom like this.
I pull myself to my feet, preparing for my retreat. Headlights stream through the front window, but I never hear the garage door open. Cautiously, I approach it, pulling the drapes open just enough to peek outside.
My breath catches at the sight. Ty’s truck is parked at the end of the driveway, still running with the driver’s side door open. He’s walking around the side of my BMW, peering into the windows.
Then, with purposeful strides, he approaches the front porch. I run to the door, hiding just out of sight, and bring my hands to my mouth to cover the gasp it pulls out of me when he pounds his fist against the wood.
“Mel?” he says, knocking. “Mel, it’s me. Will you let me in? Please?”
I slide down the door frame, bring my knees to my chest, and cry.
If you love him like you say you do, leave him alone.
“I know you’re there,” he says. “I can feel you.”
He’ll go away. I don’t want him to see me like this anyway.
“Mellie, please just open the door. I won’t…bother you; I just want to see your face. Please let me see your face.”
I stay there, sobbing with both hands covering my mouth, leaning against the door just to be closer to him, crippled by the sound of his voice.
Eventually, he sighs in defeat. “Fine. I think about you every day, Mellie. I hope you’re okay.”
I hear his footsteps on the wooden steps, and shortly after, the truck door slams and the headlights streaming through the windows disappear.
And I stay there—on the floor, in this agony—and let myself feel it in a way I haven’t for over three years now. I let it consume me, hoping that when it’s done, it’ll finally be done with me for good.
I must fall asleep like that because when I wake, my mom is kneeling in front of me, her hand on the side of my face.
“Oh good, you’re alive,” she says when I open my eyes. I don’t bother arguing the contrary. “Looks like you had an interesting night. Let’s get you upstairs.”
I let her pull me to my feet and use her as a crutch as she guides my drunk ass up the staircase. When we get to the landing, I freeze, staring down at the red area rug that now sits in the space.
It’s kind of symbolic, isn’t it? Now we can figuratively and literally sweep what happened to me under the rug.
“Get off of me,” I slur, pushing her away from me. “I don’t need you.”
“I know that,” she says calmly. “You’ve more than proved it.”
“I hate you,” I sneer.
“I’ve changed, Mel. I’m sorry I wasn’t always the best mom—”
“I don’t care about that! That’s not what I’m talking about!” I shout. “You should have killed him!”
“How very selfish of you,” she snaps back. “Do you know what would have happened if I’d killed him?”
“All of this is your fault! You brought him home! And then, after he did what he did to me…you just let him go! Those two choices that you made changed the entire trajectory of my life—do you realize that? You ruined everything.”
“I’m sorry!” she shouts back. “I’m sorry, Mel! But from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like you’re doing so bad for yourself.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it! I used to be happy! I used to know who I was! And I had…” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“What do you want from me, Mel? Huh?”
