Page 65 of Better Than the Movies
He scrunched his eyebrows at me, cringing a little. “I was trying for verbiage a tad more delicate than that, but yes.”
“I don’t know if I buy the whole dead-people-come-back-as-birds thing, but it’s a nice thought.” It was. The nicest. But I’d always felt like if I allowed myself to believe in those notions, I’d never get past her death because I’d surely spent every second of my life tearfully bird-watching.
“Do you miss her a lot?” He cleared his throat and made a little sound like he was embarrassed by his own question. “I mean, of course you do. But… is it at least a little easier now than it used to be?”
I leaned forward and held my hands in front of the fire. “I miss her a lot. Like, all the time. But lately it feels different. I don’t know.…”
I trailed off and stared at the flames. Was it easier, he wondered? I felt like I couldn’t answer that question because I refused to let it get easier. I thought about her a lot—every single day—and if I started doing that less, surely it’d get easier.
But the easier it got, the more she’d disappear, right?
He scratched his cheek and asked, “Different how?”
“Worse maybe?” I shrugged and watched the bottom of the log as it heated to almost a shade of white. I wasn’t sure how to explain it, when I didn’t even get it myself. “I don’t know. It’s really weird, actually. I just… I guess it kind of feels like I’m really losing her this year. All of these milestones are happening, like prom and college applications, and she isn’t here for them. So my life is changing and moving forward, and she’s being left behind with my childhood. Does that make sense?”
“Holy shit, Liz.” Wes sat up a little straighter and ran his hands over the top of his hair, messing it up as his serious eyes met mine in the firelight. “That makes total sense and it also sucks.”
“Are you lying?” I squinted in the darkness, but the fire’s flicker made it tough to read his expression. “Because I know I’m weird about my mom.”
“How is that weird?” The breeze lifted his dark hair and tousled it just a little. “It makes perfect sense.”
I didn’t know if it did or not, but a wave of emotion crashed over me and I had to roll my lips in and blink fast to hold it back. There was something about his casual confirmation of my sanity, mynormalcy, that healed a tiny little piece of me.
Probably the piece that had never discussed my mother with anyone other than my dad.
“Well, thanks, Bennett.” I smiled and put my feet up on the edge of the firepit. “The other thing that’s messing with me is that Helena and my dad keep trying to insert Helena into every one of these things where my mom is supposed to be. I feel like the bad guy because I don’t want Helena there. I don’t need a fill-in.”
“That’s tough.”
“Right?”
“But at least Helena is supercool. I mean, it’d be worse if your stepmom was a total nightmare, wouldn’t it?”
I wondered that all the time. “Maybe. But sometimes I think her coolness makes it harder. No one would understand why I feel this way when someone so cool is right here.”
“Well, can’t you include her and justnotreplace your mom? It seems to me that you can still hold on to your memories, even if Helena is with you. Right?”
“It’s not that easy.” I wished it was, but I didn’t think there was room for both of them. If Helena went dress shopping with me and we had a great time, that memory would be stamped forever, and my mother would have no part in it.
“Do you want a cigar?”
That stopped my train of thought. “What?”
I saw the upward movement of his lips in the dark before he said, “I was about to enjoy a Swisher Sweet out here before you showed up.”
That made me laugh, immature Wes enjoying a gas-station variety of cigar in his backyard like some kind of grown-ass man. “Ooh—classy.”
“I’m nothing if not sophisticated. In fact, it’s cherry-flavored.”
“Oh, well, if it’s cherry, I’m totally in.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” I rolled my eyes at his total Wes-ness. “I just don’t think I’d appreciate the cherry-flavored death stick, but thanks for the offer.”
“I knew that would be your answer.”
“No, you did not.”
