Page 117 of Unfix Me

I gripped him tighter for another moment and he let me. When I pulled back, I forced myself not to ask again.

“I love you, Malachi.”

“I love you, Dad. See you in the stands, yeah?”

“Always.”

With a nod, I walked away from him. One step, two steps, three steps. I knew that this could be the last moment like this that we had together. If it was, it was a hell of a moment.

Instead of going to my room to find Sen, I went to West’s. He was sitting on his bed, clutching his phone tightly. His lips were set in a tight line and when he looked at me, his brows were drawn down in anger. Seeing the look on my face, he stood and pulled me into a hug.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I know. It still hurts, though.”

“Let it hurt, man. Isn’t pain weakness leaving the body or something?”

“That’s stupid.”

“Whatever. It’s like the toxic dude’s version of Live, Laugh, Love.”

Despite everything, I laughed. “I wish I could just bring a piece of him with me, you know?”

“That’s exactly what you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out. You’re exactly like him. You’re good at everything you do and you light up a room just by being in it. The only legacy he ever cared about was you.”

Scrubbing my hands down my face, I started to rebuild the strength that would allow me to keep going once I left here.

“Don’t get sentimental right now,” I chided. “I already cried today and I really don’t wanna do it again.”

“Well, luckily for you, I will be on a plane while you and Sen drive across the country.”

“I’m so mad at you for bringing my car here. We’re gonna miss two days of classes because of you.”

West shrugged. “Use the sick dad pass.”

“You’re annoying, but… I guess I love you. Just don’t steal my car again. That’s not cool.”

He waved a dismissive hand, which might have been an agreement, but it probably wasn’t. We’d find out eventually, I guess.

*****

“Memory jar time,” Sen announced, reaching into the back to rifle through one of the bags. He came back with a glass container, along with some thin wooden coins and a lighter.

One of his gifts to me was this jar. It was like the ones I used for wins and losses, but he wanted to apply the idea to each of our days. If the day had a memory we wanted to keep, we’d add it to the jar with the date on the coin. Otherwise, we burned it. It was cute and since it was something uniquely ours, I loved it.

“How do we feel about the day?” he asked.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. We’d parked at a sketchy rest stop to do this before midnight. I would have recommended we do it outside, but that wasn’t happening.

“Good,” I decided. “Really good, but also sad.”

“Do you want to remember it?”

“Definitely.”

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