Find You in the Dark (Find You in the Dark #1)(82)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

Rachel rode beside me on the way home, squeezing my hand every so often. I let my head drop to her shoulder and my best friend stroked my hair as we finally made our way back home.

Epilogue

“Maggie, can you bring me the bag of salt from the garage?” My mother called from the front door. I got up off the couch and made my way to the foyer. My mom was covered in fresh snow and I could see it falling from the late January sky behind her. “I think your dad put it up on the shelf. Hurry up, this snow won’t shovel itself.” I pulled on my boots and thick wool coat. I stuffed my hands into a pair of gloves and went outside, then around to the side of the house toward the garage.

Two months and I was still trying to feel normal, like I still fit inside this life that I had once called mine. My parents kept me busy. My weekends were now filled with shopping trips and movies. My parents had decided to try their hand at some home improvements and enlisted my help in figuring out how to hang drywall and use my mother’s ancient sewing machine to make curtains.

Christmas had been hard. I had expected to hear something from Clay, but the holiday came and went. Nothing. Just silence. I tried to hide the hurt I felt, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Rachel and Daniel had been glued to my side for the entire winter break. Even though they were a little suffocating, I appreciated their presence.

Now that I was back in school, Rachel had talked me into signing up for the school musical. I was helping out with the set designs and that was eating up a lot of my down time in the evenings. Time I would have otherwise been moping in my room.

Everyone else was trying, so why couldn’t I? Most of the time I put on a good show. I had become well-practiced at pretending I wasn’t broken inside. Pretending that part of me didn’t still linger in that tiny room in the ICU where Clay and I had last been together.

“Do you need help with that?” My dad asked, as I struggled to get the bag of salt from the shelf. I gave up and let him get it down for me. “Wow, that’s heavier than I thought. You want me to take it to your mom?” He asked. I laughed at him. “You are so out of shape Dad. We’re getting you on an exercise plan as soon as it’s warm.” I threatened him. My dad feigned indignation. “I’m plenty in shape.” “Sure you are, Mr. ‘I eat four donuts for breakfast and a bag of Doritos for lunch’. Go on inside and let us younger, fitter people handle the heavy lifting.” I joked. My dad chuckled, but left me to my chore.

It felt good to have my relationship with my parents on the mend. Sure, they still watched me closely. But I really couldn’t blame them. I had dragged them through hell and back. I deserved their vigilance, despite how much it smothered me at times.

I wasn’t entirely sure what they were watching for, though. Clay was gone. I hadn’t heard from him or his parents since that day in the hospital waiting room. Not that I was surprised. His mother made it very clear she wanted me to have absolutely nothing to do with her son. But I struggled with the betrayal that pierced my chest when I wondered why Clay hadn’t tried harder to get a hold of me. I had honestly thought his love for me was stronger than that. If the tables were turned, I knew I would stop at nothing to talk to him again.

But I tried to focus on the margin of happiness I felt in knowing, that despite not hearing from him, he was getting help somewhere. Even if it was away from me. Yeah, I didn’t wear selflessness very well.

And every time I thought of him, I ached inside and I found it hard to breathe.

I had wondered a million times how I could possibly go on living when my heart was gone? How was it possible that it still beat in my chest when it felt so empty?

“Here you go, Mom.” I said, as I let the heavy bag fall to the ground. My mom stopped shoveling and bent over to rip open the bag. “Thanks Maggie May.” She said before dumping some salt on the sidewalk. “I don’t know why you bother. Just wait until it stops snowing. You realize it’ll just have to be redone in the morning.” I told her, watching her freshly shoveled path disappearing under a blanket of white. “Because it’ll be much worse in the morning if I don’t do some of it now.” She said, returning to her task.

I just shook my head and turned to head back into the house. I stopped for a moment, possessed by some childish impulse. I turned my face upwards toward the sky and stuck out my tongue, letting the cold flakes melt in my mouth. I loved the snow and it, like almost everything else, reminded me of Clay. I remembered our time at the cabin, lying together in the loft as snow fell outside and thinking that I could never be happier than I was at that moment. I sighed. Those memories were a blessing and a curse. I was thankful that I had them, but they hurt so much. It had to get better eventually, right? I asked myself this every single day. I slowly trudged forward, my steps feeling heavier than they had before.

I tried hard to pull it all together. I wanted to be the daughter my parents deserved, and the friend I knew Rachel and Danny needed. But it was hard to be that girl some days. Maybe it was the lack of closure. Not knowing what Clay was doing, or how he was doing made it tortuous. Then there were the doubts that festered like a disease in my mind. Sometimes I found myself thinking that maybe he realized he was better off without me. That what we had wasn’t as life altering for him as it had been for me. That maybe, I was alone in the love I still felt as deeply as I had from its onset. I tried to put my dismal thoughts away. Every day I tried. I couldn’t let myself get mired in them, or I’d likely find myself in the same depression I had been drowning in for too long after leaving Clay lying there in the hospital. I determined that I must go on, move forward, live my life, and be as happy as I was capable of without him. Despite how daunting and impossible the task seemed.

I caught sight of the mail truck as it skidded to a stop in front of the house. I don’t know why it made me pause, but it did. I walked out to meet the mail man. “Here, I’ll get that.” I said, forcing a smile and taking the pile of envelopes. “Drive safely.” I told him as he got back in his truck. He thanked me and left.

My hands began to shake as I sorted through the stack of bills and junk mail. My reaction was always the same when the mail arrived. I always wished, actually yearned, for just once be a letter addressed to me. I hated that I repeatedly go my hopes up, but I did anyway.

But this time, I found what I was looking for. There at the bottom of the pile was a small envelope. Pulling it out, my heart stuttered at the sight of my name written in a familiar, sloping hand. Funny how just the sight of his handwriting had the power to shred my guts.