Before he let me stew even further in my thoughts, Donnie said, “Besides, I don’t think you have to worry about him walking away, Blaire. I mean, he stuck around even when you dumped him, didn’t he? He still got you Crushed Beanz every morning.”
Back up the truck. Lucas had done— “What?”
“You mean you really thought I got you coffee every morning?” He winked. “Blaire, I love you, but not enough to wake up fifteen minutes earlier. You think beauty like this just happens?”
His words weren’t computing. Complete gibberish. “So this entire time, Lucas has still been getting me coffee?”
“Except for that one day—the one where the coffee was super sweet? I got it that time. He was running late and paid me fifteen bucks.”
So Donnie was saying that even though we’d been broken up, Lucas had still gotten us coffee every morning? Me and Donnie? My usual drink. Lucas had gotten it right every time. I recalled the days when Lucas had had a cup of his own in his hand, the teal Crushed Beanz logo a dead giveaway.
My stomach fluttered, butterflies tumbling around. I glanced away, not trusting myself to look at Donnie—not trusting that my gaze wasn’t filled with some sort of sappy emotion—and focused on the orange envelope by my side. I had it turned so Dad’s handwriting faced me, stark black letters.
“Dad wrote a nice letter,” I told Donnie, changing the subject and not looking up. The frown I held on my face began to quiver as emotion pushed through me, the line in my forehead trembling with the effort to keep severe. “Said that if I wanted to reach out, I could. I used to be so angry at him for sending it—for ruining everything. But…I’m not angry anymore.”
No, that anger had disappeared, burnt up. The black smoke of my resentment had faded, leaving different emotions in its wake. Not as choking as the smoke; hazy like fog on a fall morning. There was a promise that it would clear, and if I looked hard enough, I could somewhat see down the road.
But in the wake of anger rested pain.
I tried not to let myself cry too much. Crying felt so useless, pointless, childish. But I wasn’t much of a crier, anyway—when something bad happened, I didn’t get sad;. I pushed everything down, shoved it away, refused to deal with it.
But now that pain swamped through me, threatening to drown me. All the pain came out through my tears. The coolness tracked its way down my hot cheeks, and a teardrop fell onto my blankets. It was the silent sort of cry. Mourning. All the grief from Mom, all the grief from Dad, all the grief from Lucas, culminating into a slicing ache.
Donnie reached out and wrapped his hand over the curve of my knee, giving it a squeeze, hanging on.
In a way, crying everything out was refreshing. A thunderstorm after a long season of drought. The gasping breaths I took felt like the first in a long time—the first, perhaps, since Dad had left. At least the first since I’d received his letter.
Dad had realized he couldn’t face Halloween in Hallow without her. And I saw that now. It was what he’d written on a gas station receipt from that same day, but I’d never understood. Blaire, you know I love you. I can’t be in Hallow anymore. I’m sorry. He couldn’t stay in Hallow because it reminded him too much of Mom. Of everything she’d loved, every place she’d been, the very house she’d lived in. It hadn’t been about me. And no matter how much I wanted to—and I really did—I couldn’t fault him for his fear. He’d left town because he’d been afraid to face the holiday without Mom.
I’d broken up with Lucas because I was afraid of the pain of him walking away, a pain that might’ve not ever happened.
Fear made people do crazy, stupid things.
For the first time in two years, I stared through Dad’s eyes with startling clarity. Part of me wanted to pretend otherwise, the begrudging, bitter part, but I knew the truth. For what felt like the first time, my heart ached for Dad.
“Is everything—Blaire?” Gram’s voice was quiet at first, and then morphed into a more concentrated level of concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
Donnie stood from the bed to let Gram sit down, and she pulled me into her arms. After a moment of stiffness, unused to her embrace, my body relaxed. Her vanilla perfume washed over me immediately, her house robe gentle against my cheek.
Without another word, Donnie slipped from the room.
It’d been a long time since Gram had held me like this, like an upset child, and I found myself clinging to her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d melted into her. There was something about a grandmother’s hug that was perfect. Her hugs reminded me of Mom’s, where a simple embrace made the whole world seem better, brighter. The world started spinning regularly again; the air in my lungs cleared.
A part of me, the part so used to pushing people away, wanted to hide the envelope, tuck it behind my back, not let Gram know I’d read it. That part of me didn’t want her to be right, didn’t want her to know I’d caved.
I drew in a breath that rattled. “I read Dad’s letter.”
Immediately, her grip on me tensed. “You don’t have to answer him, you know. Not until you’re ready to. There isn’t a time limit or an expiration date or anything like that.”
I pulled away enough so I could see her face, swiping my palm along my cheeks. It came away damp. “I don’t know if I’ll write back. Not yet. I think…I think I still need to wrap my head around it.”
She pushed my hair over my shoulder, then grasped the tops of my arms, giving them an affectionate squeeze. “You’re growing into such a fine young woman, you know that? Your parents…they’d be proud.”
Great, I was going to start crying again. “Did you know Dad was struggling?” I asked her, thinking about his letter. “Before he left, I mean.”
“I knew he was having a hard time, but I never dreamed he’d leave us.” Gram still smoothed her fingers through my hair, the lulling movement comforting. “If I’d known, I would’ve talked him out of it.”
I tried to think what I might’ve done differently if I’d known Dad was going to leave that night. What if I’d come out into the kitchen and saw him writing that note? What would I have done? Would that have changed anything? I would never know.
Gram cleared her throat, and her eyes were bright. “I’ve got a surprise for you. I wanted to save it until tomorrow, but I think you need something to make you smile today.”
I swiped the back of my hand across my cheek. “What is it?”
“I’ve kept the surprise quite well,” she said smugly, her hands sliding down to grab mine. “But I think you need to try it on to see it in the full effect.”
“Try it on?” I frowned a little, sniffling. “Is it for Costume Catering?”
Gram smiled. “Come on, I’ll show you. First, can I ask you a question?” She lowered her voice. “What was Donnie wearing?”
A laugh burst out of me, strangled but genuine. “It was costume week at school. He was a moth, I think.”
“Costume week! Why didn’t you say anything? I’m the queen of costumes! We could’ve come up with fun ideas.”
“Next year,” I promised her, knowing it wasn’t a hollow Halloween promise. I allowed her to draw me to my feet. “Now, about that surprise?”