Aiken

I slowed my pace in front of Claire’s house, catching a glimpse of the tree we’d decorated in the window. It couldn’t help but put a smile on my face. After we’d put up the tree and decorated it, we’d fucked like rabbits, again—crude, I know, but the truth.

She’s not old (her word, not mine) in the sheets.

After all the holiday joy, we booked tickets to go see my pops, which was the main reason behind the guilt eating away at my gut.

Feeling guilty as fuck as I walked back inside my house, sweaty and spent, I tried to shove the feelings aside. It was the Wednesday after Thanksgiving: The tree had been up for three days, our plans to go home solidified for the same amount of time, and here I was sneaking off to meet Abbie and Allison.

“Shit,” I grumbled, stripping out of my cold-weather running gear and getting into a steaming shower. For a moment, I almost jacked off, needing to calm the hell down. I was strung tight, and if I didn’t get that under control, Claire would know something was up. She was a trained clinician—she already questioned my relationship with Abbie as it was.

Dressed, I grabbed my keys, popped next door, and let Smitty out. He didn’t need it—he’d survived before me—but I liked doing it. Running five minutes late already, I jumped into my truck and gunned it toward the off-campus coffee shop.

I had to make sure Abbie wasn’t playing me. She’d said some pretty unbelievable things to me before Thanksgiving. Some shit and mumbo jumbo I couldn’t hardly believe, but I had to listen for the sake of finding my mom.

Today, Abbie wanted to bring Allison to confer. It was bullshit. This wasn’t happening. Not now. Not when shit was finally going well for me.

My sour mood worsened by the time I made it to the coffee joint. I knew Claire was teaching her graduate symposium, which only heightened my guilt. All this fucking sneaking around, and it was either for nothing, or was going to bite me in the fucking ass.

“Hey,” I greeted the two young women sitting at a corner table, tossing back lattes.

“Hey,” Allison said. Abbie only nodded.

I folded into the chair opposite them and asked, “What’s up?”

Allison conferred with Abbie in whispers before confirming the cockamamie BS Abbie had told me before Thanksgiving.

If I’d thought I wanted to find my mother, I’d been sorely wrong.

“You two need to keep this to yourselves. I’m still not sure I believe this whole thing you’ve concocted. With the Internet, it’s easy enough to find out details. Either way, keep your traps shut until I figure some shit out.”

“We’re not lying,” Abbie insisted.

“Keep your trap shut.” I stood to leave. “And don’t you dare breathe a fucking word of this to your beloved Professor Richards. She’s mine to protect.”

After filling the truck with gas, I went into town for a second black coffee and a vanilla-flavored thing for Claire. It’d been a rough day, and I predicted it would be an equally rough night. I’d bit off too much for one day, but I was a man. I told myself to act like one.

For some reason, I felt like talking to my dad, so I dialed him while I waited for Claire’s drink, taking a long pull of my own.

“Hey, Son,” he answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Pops, how ya doing?”

“I sure like the idea of you being here for Christmas. Quiet now. How’s that lady of yours? She looking forward to coming?”

“Claire’s doing okay. We’re going to pack up Abby’s room tonight. That was going to be her New Year’s resolution, but we’re tackling it early.”

“Sounds like it’s not going to be a fun one.”

“No, it’s not.”

The barista called my name, and I snatched Claire’s beverage and hightailed it to my truck. Our plan was to order a pizza later.

“So, remember I told you about the two girls who’d gotten themselves involved with looking for Mom?”

I tucked the phone in my neck while opening the door and shoved the coffees in the center console of my truck.

“Yeah. Honestly, I thought you’d give that all up by now. You finally found yourself some happiness, not traditional, but go with it.”

“Dad, listen…”

“Listen to me. I told you, I knew your mom was a wild one after she left. I heard plenty after she was gone. That’s not the way she was when I met her, but I guess…she was that way before me…and didn’t like my quiet way of life. I feel bad you never met your grandparents. I’m sure they would’ve liked you. But your mama is gone. I don’t know where she is. No one does, except those two young’uns who think they’re on some America’s Most Wanted show.”

I didn’t know how to break it to him, so I blurted it out. “I think Mama had another family. After she left you, Pops, she didn’t get remarried, but she apparently moved on. Didn’t stick around long for that life either.”

“Oh, Aiken. Stop with all this. You’re dredging up shit you shouldn’t care about. Let it go. I told you. Go help your lady, and for God’s sake, let her have tonight for her pain. You don’t need to bring this shit up.”

He hung up on me. I didn’t even have a chance to explain or say goodbye. The line went dead, and that was that.

Putting the car in reverse, I stared at myself in the rearview. Maybe Pops was right? Maybe I should let it go?

How the heck should I know?

“I’m here with liquid gold,” I called out, walking into Claire’s place.

“In the front,” she called.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” She was still wrapped in her coat, staring at the tree, her hair long down her back, knee-length boots covering her legging-covered calves. Even from behind, she was a beauty.

She turned, face wet, nose red.

“Come here,” I told her, setting the drinks on the coffee table.

“We don’t have to do this,” I whispered while smoothing her hair down her back, her face dripping into my chest. “I don’t want to force you.”

“No, it’s time. Mary’s been after me for a while. At least a year.”

Her voice cracked and broke. I slid my finger under her chin and tilted her gaze toward mine.

“I’m going to be with you every moment. If you need to stop, we will.”

Her palm drifted down my arm. I wanted to say, Give me all your pain, but I didn’t.

I waited for her to step away. As I shrugged off my old barn jacket, she took off her own coat. She held out a shaky palm for me to take. I kept her hand tightly wound with mine, letting her know I wasn’t going to let go, mentally or physically. I considered the reality of completing that daunting task as she guided me up the stairs.

At the top, we veered to the left rather than the right toward her bedroom. Stopping on the threshold, she peeled off her boots, each one thudding against the floor, and tied her hair up.

“Claire, this doesn’t mean you’re forgetting her, but Abby wouldn’t want to be a ghost haunting your hallways. She’d want to be one happy memory after the other, the person responsible for putting a smile on your face, lightness not darkness.”

“I know.” She carefully put one foot in front of the other and entered her dead daughter’s room. I trailed behind her, feeling an ache in my chest at her sharp intake of breath. The bed was made. A Bruno Mars poster hung on the wall alongside an old G-rated calendar of the campus football team posing with puppies. Next to that was a full-length mirror on a stand. Stickers covered the perimeter, and long necklaces hung from the corner.

The room was a shrine to her dead daughter. I was in way over my head. No, way beyond that. I was lost in the woods without a clue how to get out—yet, I was the one who led us in here.

The bedspread was lilac, with dark purple flowers haphazardly stitched into the fabric.

“Is this an heirloom?” My voice sounded like I had a frog in my throat.

“Mary’s mom made it for Abby when she got this bed. It was a birthday present.”

“I imagine she loved it.”

“She did.”

“I forgot to bring some boxes up,” Claire stuttered, sitting at the desk.

“I’ll grab them.” I needed a quick minute, and so did she.

When I returned, Claire was smiling at an open book.

“Look,” she said, pointing to a page.

I knelt on the floor at her side and took in the words in front of me.

Dear Diary~

I like Brice Billings, and I think he likes me.

He’s so cute with red hair and freckles, and his dad teaches economics at the college, so he gets me.

We saw each other at camp and talked about how the summer was the best because our parents aren’t as busy. We both like to go for ice cream in town and the pool. Then he asked if I wanted to wait with him in the Popsicle line.

Me!

Of course I said yes. We stood there, his arm touched mine, and I think he did it on purpose.

I smiled and pretended not to notice.

I didn’t tell Mom tonight either. It felt like it was a private moment. I should have shared. Maybe tomorrow. I can keep this just for me for one more day.

Brice Billings!

Then came a long string of x’s and o’s and a signature in cursive: Abby Billings.

“She never told me. I guess she wanted the moment just for her,” Claire said, staring down at the journal. A tear fell onto the paper. “I’m so glad I read this. She won’t ever get to be Abby Billings, but some part of me is happy that she experienced that small crush. That she had the experience.”

Squeezing her hand, I suggested, “Why don’t you hold on to the journal and crack it open when you’re feeling down?”

“Who is the therapist here? Me or you?”

“Only a suggestion.” I brought her knuckles to my lips and ran a kiss across them. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Don’t be too proud to admit it.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m watching a movie…that it’s not really me, Claire Richards, getting this second chance at life.”

“Open your eyes. It’s you, and I’m damn glad it’s with me.”

She continued to stare down, her wet lashes grazing her bottom ones. “That’s why this feels even harder. I’m moving on…I know, I’m remembering the good stuff, but still. I can’t seem to put it into words.”

“Look at me, Richards. You, me…we’re going to remember every fucking thing about Abby. Okay?”

She nodded, turned, and opened a desk drawer without another word.

There were classroom poetry assignments, birthday cards, school pictures, and a ragged teddy bear shoved in the bottom drawer. Claire cataloged each item, placing a few mementos to keep into a large box, placing the old homework assignments and greeting cards into a recycling box.

I watched, helped sort, but didn’t say much. There was no judgment from me. This was her daughter, and she could hold on to and discard whatever she wanted.

Next up came the closet. Most of the clothes, Claire set aside for the women’s shelter. “Abby would be happy to help someone less fortunate. I told her one time over dinner about the building close to campus, the yellow brick one near the pet supply store, how it was an unmarked shelter and women and their children could go there to be safe. She’d like that these clothes went there.”

I closed the box and labeled it Shelter.

“Oh my God, look! I forgot about this guy. The elf. Abby was so miserable on her ninth Christmas. Everyone had the elf and we didn’t. She knew it wasn’t real, but loved the magic of it, the story, making him do funny things. She and her friends would talk about the elf all month.”

Claire dangled one of those Elf on the Shelf dolls in the air, its legs flying around.

“Do you know what this is?”

“Babe, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

She eyed me up.

“It’s an Elf on the Shelf, a mythical creature, better used for raunchy photos, drinking beer, or fooling around with Barbie.”

This got a huge laugh. “Aiken, this was Abby’s. He did no such thing.”

“It doesn’t mean he can’t now.”

I decided I’d had enough hands-off time and gathered Claire close. I kissed the tip of her still-red nose. “Does he have a name?”

“Anthony.”

“Anthony sounds like a naughty name to me.”

Her eyes brightened. “I can see you making plans in your head for Anthony.”

“Oh, I am.”

She brought her lips to mine and kissed me softly, letting the emotion of the evening go.

“Let’s grab a pizza. We can do the bed and nightstand later?”

With her nose touching mine, she nodded. “I’m going to give the bedspread to Mary for her kids to keep. The nightstand is empty. It’s the one drawer I emptied right after it happened.”

“Come on.” I took her hand and snatched Anthony the Elf before she could think about it…

“Hey,” she faux-protested.

“He’s with me now. We’re making plans. But first, pizza and snuggling.”