If Forever Comes (Take This Regret #2)(17)
Author: A.L. Jackson

It was humiliating. Demeaning.

Yet I took it because I didn’t know what else to do. The thought of having to get up every day and go to work churned my gut into a frenzy of anxiety. So I took from the man I had broken, or maybe he had broken me.

My chest squeezed.

The truth was, it was life that had broken us both, ripping from us what we didn’t know how to live without.

Natalie folded one of Lizzie’s shirts and stacked it on top of the growing pile. “So how are you feeling today?” she said in the most casual way, but with the heaviest of undertones.

God.

Every time I saw my family, it was the same—them looking at me, waiting for me to snap out of it, all of them constantly telling me one day it would be okay. Resentment had steadily built, because none of them understood. I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t even want to see them, didn’t want to be in their presence, because all they did was encourage and judge and prod and promise me things that could never be. None of them knew what they were talking about.

They didn’t.

They couldn’t.

I stood at the bottom of the last step, clinging to the railing as if it were a lifeline. “I’m actually feeling pretty well today. You know what, why don’t you go on without me? While I have the energy, I think I’d better clean up some stuff around here. The house could really use a good cleaning.”

Frowning, she lifted a brow as she called my bluff. “You can clean later. And we have reservations. Come on, let’s go.” She tossed the last shirt on the folded pile and grabbed her purse from the floor.

She headed out the door, leaving it wide open behind her.

Sighing, I followed, knowing there was no chance I was going to get out of this. I stepped outside into the day. Natalie already sat waiting for me in her little, white four-door sedan.

In surrender, I settled into the front passenger seat.

The ten-minute drive to the restaurant was taken in near silence. Natalie continually stole glances at me, kneading the steering wheel as if she were building up the nerve to say something. I kept my attention trained on my fingers that I twisted on my lap, just wishing for the next hour to be over with.

Natalie pulled into the restaurant parking lot, found a spot, and cut the engine. I stepped from the car. My attention darted around to see the parked cars of the women of my family who’d gathered. The ones who were always there to support and love.

A wave of guilt crashed over me.

God, what was wrong with me?

These women only cared about me.

I dropped my head, squeezing my eyes shut as I put a hand out to steady myself on the car, knowing I’d do anything to make it back, to dig myself out of this hole that I had fallen into.

I just didn’t know the way.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” Natalie asked as she climbed from her car. Brown eyes full of worry met mine over the roof of the car.

“Yeah,” I lied.

She smiled and inclined her head toward the restaurant door. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

I followed her inside. Small, square tables filled the entirety of the authentic Mexican restaurant. A din of voices rose up in the intimate space as waitresses rushed around during the busy lunch hour, casting quick smiles as they wove through the tables to serve their guests.

Toward the back of the restaurant, where two tables had been pushed together to accommodate all of us, Sarah waved wildly above her head.

“There they are!” Natalie lifted her own hand and waved. She grabbed one of mine and wove us through the crush of tables. “Hey, guys,” she said as we approached.

Both of my sisters tossed their napkins to the table as they stood, greetings on their smiling faces.

“You made it,” Sarah, my older sister, said as she rounded the table and pulled me into her arms. Her hold was warm in its unending support.

I stiffened.

I knew she noticed my reaction, and still, she only hugged me tighter.

“It’s so good to see you, Elizabeth,” she murmured quietly, pulling back to look me in the face.

“It’s good to see you, too,” I said. I knew somewhere inside me it was the truth.

Squeezing me by the upper arms, she stepped back.

Carrie, my younger sister, was hugging Natalie before she pranced over to me. A cheery smile split her face. “Elizabeth! God, where have you been? I miss you.” She hugged me a little too hard.

I struggled to breathe.

It was always a chore, forcing the air in and out of my lungs, taking in this requirement for life. It was a hundredfold in the presence of her overzealous welcome.

And it wasn’t her fault, I knew. That was just it. Of everyone here, Carrie was the one who understood the least. She’d spoken words that had cut through me with the force of a knife.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

I knew she truly only meant it as encouragement.

Still, it’d made me want to rip her face off, to scream at her and tell her to shut her mouth.

Instead I’d ended up on my knees, puking, trying to purge her comment from my consciousness.

“Miss you, too,” I forced myself to say, like with my older sister, knowing somewhere inside me I felt it, even if it was obscured.

She bounced back and plopped back down into her seat.

Slowly Mom rose from her chair. Her approach was calculated as she watched me. I’d been avoiding her. I didn’t know why. I just couldn’t handle the way she looked at me. I understood how hard it was for her to see me this way, that I too only wanted joy for my own child. It would kill me if Lizzie had to go through something like this in her life. It made me want to wrap her up and shut her away, keep her protected from any tragedy that could befall her.

Maybe I was broken. But there were enough pieces left of me that I still adored my daughter.

That’s the one thing in this messed up life I was giving thanks for. Lizzie my light, Lizzie my life.

She was the hope that coaxed me out of bed in the morning, what gave me the ability to put one foot in front of the other, the last bit of drive that sustained my weary soul.

Through all of this, I was able to recognize that my mom felt the same for me.

Strong arms wrapped me up, my arms pinned between us, Mom’s rough voice low. “Thank you for coming.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me, every movement meaningful, full of support.

I nodded and lied. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

She pursed her lips and dipped her head once, accepting the deception for what it was.

I took my seat and opened the menu in front of me.