Zach: How was it?
Autumn: I thought you were coming.
Zach: I wanted to be there, but it’d be a million times harder to leave you.
Autumn: Or to let you go. I hate that you’re right.
Zach: I heard my parents were there—and were civilized to each other.
Autumn: Yes. Your dad invited us to lunch at Merkel. He requested a private room for the family. Mom, Miranda, and Aiden came along. Matilda asked for you. Myles promised he’d send you the video.
Zach: He filmed it?
Autumn: Yep.
Zach: With all the awards and shit he has for his impressive documentaries, he filmed my girl? I think he might be my favorite St. James.
Autumn: Is he?
Zach: Nah, I love them all, even when they drive me insane. You can’t pick a favorite. Well, maybe Archer, but…
Autumn: I’m sorry.
Zach: It’s okay. I’ve come to terms. Like his fiancée, I always thought that one day he’d walk up to us and say, did you miss me?
Zack: I only wish they had found his body.
Autumn: I feel like you’re doing a lot better than me when it comes to therapy. I’m still dealing with my father’s ‘vacation.’
Zach: You’re still calling that a vacation?
Autumn: Mom is the one who insisted we call it that instead of he’s in prison because he stole money, among other white-collar crimes. It doesn’t matter that his part in the scheme was small. He was part of it.
Zach: You should go and see him.
Autumn: Maybe one day. I’m not ready for that. You’re about to graduate from therapy.
Zach: I don’t think that’s true. Just remember, I have too much time on my hands. I have four teleconferences a week. It’s intensive.
Autumn: Unfortunately, I don’t have time for that.
Zach: By the way, how’s the security detail that Seth set up for you?
Autumn: I still don’t think I need one.
Zach: The Blackthornes had a P.I. following you. What if they do something like try to kidnap Matilda or hurt you?
Autumn: I didn’t think about that. Tell me something good, something happy.
Zach: Am I allowed to use the ‘L’ word?
Autumn: Nope. We agreed to keep it until we were ready.
Zach: We could sext.
Autumn: It’s three o’clock.
Zach: It’s midnight somewhere in the world.
Autumn: That’s ridiculous.
Zach: But did it work?
Autumn: No, we’re still not having sex.
Zach: Sighs.
Zach: How about after work?
Autumn: I have this weekend off.
Zach: You know what you should do?
Autumn: No, but I’m sure you have an idea or two.
Zach: You should stay this weekend at my house. Use the bathtub. We can FaceTime while you’re in there.
Autumn: Keep talking; I might do it.
Zach: Really? What would you do?
Autumn: If you were here, I’d give you the best blow job of your life.
Zach: You are a goddess with your mouth. I can’t wait to explode inside you.
Autumn: Stop! I said no sexting.
Zach: Party pooper.
Autumn: You still like me.
Zach: I adore you, but that’s a conversation for another day.
Zach: Say hi to Matilda and spend the weekend at my house.
Autumn: I will. Stella might enjoy having her backyard back.
Zach: Say hi to the pup too.
Autumn
It’s a sunny day in late June. Matilda is at summer camp, and I don’t have much to do. This Friday, I have a hearing in front of a judge who’ll decide if I’m a good mother and deserve to keep my daughter. So I decided to visit Pax at the cemetery. I read his tombstone. Beloved son. There’s no loving father or…
Megan erased me from his life. She barely acknowledges Matilda unless she needs to rip my life into pieces. She’s trying so hard, and I’m about to succumb. I don’t. I’m fighting back for my daughter. Her life is with me, not with a family that hasn’t cared about her since the day her father died.
I sit in front of his headstone, crisscrossing my legs.
“Hi, Pax. It’s been a long time since I chatted with you.”
There’s no answer, not even coming from my head like before. Since he died, I’ve had long conversations with him, but he’s gone. My therapist thinks I finally let him rest in peace. I don’t know, but today, I need answers.
“Is there a way that you can tell your mom to stop her nonsense?”
There’s no answer, and this feels so familiar. Every time I complained about the way his mother treated me, he’d defend her.
“I’m asking for our baby. Matilda is suffering. She’s going to therapy, and we’re trying to keep her informed of what’s happening without scaring her. Yet we’re afraid your mom’s going to make up stories and snatch her from me. I can’t live without her. She’s my reason to live.”
He doesn’t answer, and this time, I get upset.
“I know you did your best for us, but your family always came first. If you were here, you’d be siding with them. Remember what you told me that night, your last words. The ones before you asked me to take care of your baby?”
There’s a long, deafening silence that threatens to eat my soul. I might as well be here at midnight on Halloween.
“I bet you don’t.” I wipe a tear.
“You said, ‘I wish I could really love you. I’m sorry for not loving you enough.’”
The tears flow freely, cascading the same way the water flows in Niagara Falls. I can’t stop them or my words. “I never told anyone. I never understood the meaning of your last words. I want to believe that you loved me, but you didn’t know what love meant. Some days, I fall into a tangent, and I argue with myself about that love. Maybe you didn’t love me, and you were with me out of pity. I don’t think that’s true. You loved me. I mean, you died for me. You asked the paramedics to get me out first. That’s love, Pax. But maybe you were right. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. And what if I’m not enough for Matilda, and I lose her?”
“You’re more than enough,” I hear a voice, and I jolt when a hand touches my shoulder. I feel Zach. I rest my head against his hand, feeling less lonely. Ever since we crossed paths, my life has brightened up a little bit more.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Why are you here? I thought you were in Maine.”
He pulls me up and hugs me. “Nah. I came back last night. We have a hearing on Friday, and I wanted to be close. I was in the parking lot of your apartment complex deciding between visiting you or not when I saw you leave. I followed you, and I gave you some time with him, but I stepped close when I saw you crying.”
“How much did you hear?”
“Listen, he was probably a kid who knew those were the last minutes of his life and realized that you deserved better, and he couldn’t fix any of his mistakes. I’m pretty sure he was apologizing because at that moment, right when he was about to step into the light, he knew what he could’ve done better, but it was too late. He did great for his age. He was inexperienced, but he loved you.”
“I wish he could stop his mom.”
“You’re going to sit down with his parents, the lawyers, and the judge this Friday and talk like adults. It’ll be over soon.”