What exactly did she want me to figure out? “There’s nothing for me to figure out here other than taking care of my father for a while.”
“That’s not how I see it. Especially not after what happened just now.” She took a long sip of her tea. “Look, you can’t even tell me when you’re coming back to Charlotte. I understand you need to stay here for a while for your dad, but I also think you need to deal with the other stuff you’re running from.” She paused. “As much as I love you, I have to let you go right now.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel. Disappointed? Relieved? I was basically numb.
Kaia’s last boyfriend had left her to go back to his ex-wife. So I could understand her fear when it came to unfinished feelings for an ex.
I nodded. “If that’s what you feel you need to do, I’m not going to try to stop you.”
Our food arrived, interrupting the conversation at the worst possible moment.
We began to eat in silence.
Even though taking a break had been her decision, she seemed upset. I think she might’ve expected me to put up more of a fight. But that was never gonna happen. This week had sucked the fight right out of me.
• • •
My father sat alone in the living room when I returned to the house that night. He had only a small lamp on, so the majority of the house was dark. So goddamn depressing.
“Old man, it’s me.” I threw my keys down on a table.
“You’re back sooner than I thought. You said you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
“Kaia left. She booked an earlier flight. I just took her to the airport and checked out of the hotel to come stay with you.”
Kaia hadn’t felt comfortable staying at my dad’s house this past week, so we’d gotten a room at a hotel nearby.
“She seemed like a nice girl.”
“She was—until she dumped me.” I chuckled.
“What?” My father straightened in his brown recliner.
“She thinks we need to take a break while I’m here.”
“She wants to date other people?”
“No. I think it’s more about protecting herself because she thinks I might not be coming back to Charlotte for a while.”
“You don’t have to stay here, son.”
I didn’t want my father to feel bad about this. “It’s not up for debate, Dad,” I explained quickly. “It’s what Mom would’ve wanted. It’s the least I can do.”
“She wouldn’t want you to let a nice girl go so you could babysit me. She only ever wanted you to be happy. She always felt horrible about why you left. It’s why she never gave you shit about leaving so abruptly three years ago. She understood. When you told us about Kaia, she was happy—even if she wished things would have worked out for you and Farrah.”
As soon as he mentioned Farrah’s name, my nerves spiked. “Speaking of Farrah…I think Mom might have been playing some games up in heaven today.”
“Yeah?”
“I took Kaia out to lunch at that Japanese restaurant on Seminole Highway. Farrah works there now, apparently. She was assigned to our table and bolted when she saw me.”
“You’re shitting me. She works at the Japanese restaurant?”
“Evidently…yeah. I ran after her and spoke to her briefly. I told her about Mom. The whole thing was unbelievable.”
“Well, that explains the flowers from her that came today.”
That jolted me. “Are you serious?”
“Was just about to tell you.” He pointed. “Right over there on the table.”
I walked over to a bouquet of white roses mixed with other flowers and lifted the note.
Dear Mr. Muldoon,
I ran into Jace today, who told me about Faye. I’m so very sorry for your loss. Her warm smile and kindness will always be something I’ll remember. Please accept our deepest condolences and know that you are in our prayers.
Fondly,
Farrah and Nathan Spade
Continuing to stare down at the card, I said, “She must have ordered these the second she ran away from me.”
“Well, it was a very nice gesture.”
I had to agree. It touched me that Farrah had done this, despite how I’d treated her. It spoke volumes about the type of person she was.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her all day, despite the drama of my girlfriend dumping me…or forcing a break—whichever it was. It was a relief that Kaia wasn’t here, though, to continue analyzing my every expression and reaction to the mention of Farrah’s name.
Farrah’s running away haunted me. I kept replaying the scene in my head—not only the way she ran, but how fast all the feelings I’d harbored for her came flooding back the moment I looked in her eyes. It was unnerving, but not surprising, considering I’d only ever buried my emotions instead of dealing with them. That was my MO.
I finally put the small card back in the envelope and placed it on the table. “Have you eaten, Dad?”
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t, then?”
He hesitated. “No.”
My poor father was like a fish out of water. I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t eaten because he wasn’t hungry, or because my mother was no longer here to cook for him.
I opened the cabinet. “Want some pancakes?”
“Only if you’re making them for yourself.”
“I’m actually getting kind of hungry again, yeah,” I lied.
Dad moved over to the table and sat with his head in his hands. I grabbed the nonstick pan and turned on the heat. It broke my heart to see him so sad and helpless. I found a bowl and started mixing the ingredients. As I poured the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle, tears formed in my eyes. For the first time since coming home, I let them fall. It was the only time I’d cried since the moment I pulled onto I-95 heading north three years ago.
This simple thing—making pancakes—was something I’d watched my mother do hundreds of times. I’d been going through the motions all week, and in this ordinary moment, staring into a pancake pan, it finally hit me that she was gone.
• • •
Over the next week, I spent each day helping my father go through Mom’s things, deciding which items to keep and which to donate. Sifting through a dead loved one’s belongings, which still smelled like her, was the purest kind of torture. Dad broke down multiple times in the process.
One afternoon, I needed respite from that routine, so I decided to go to the grocery store and run some errands. I hadn’t been planning to drive by Farrah’s house, but somehow I ended up passing the road I needed to take to get home. Before I knew it, I was approaching her and Nathan’s neighborhood and decided to turn down their street.
My heart raced at the sight of a small child playing out in front of their house. The little girl was in one of those red-and-yellow plastic cars. A rush of adrenaline hit. Whose kid is that? Nathan’s? Farrah’s? I’d specifically asked my mother not to seek out information on them, and to the best of my knowledge, she’d never run into them in the three years I’d been gone; she would have told me if she had. I had no idea what had transpired with them because I’d made a conscious effort to stay out of their lives.