Page 8 of Satan's Spawn
I won’t even be able to visit his grave without a gruesome six hour flight.
I know it isn’t mom’s intention to hurt me, and I also know this is her way of moving on, but she never stopped to ask if I was ready to.
It’s been weeks of packing, finishing up my last days of work, and trying my hardest to keep it together as I prepare for an entirely new life. Mom hasn’t stopped smiling, and Roman made it his mission to make sure this transition is as easy as possible for me.
I appreciate it, even him finding a way for me to virtually register for Riverside instead of having to fly in. I saw pictures of the dorms, which are nothing shy of magnificent, but still I’m finding it hard to get excited.
And we’re leaving tomorrow.
“Hi sweetie.” Mom’s voice chirps behind me, probably assuming this is where I’d be spending my last day. When I look up, I find her standing at my side, holding the beach hat on top of her head steady as her long flowy sundress dances like white flames in the wind.
“Hey.” I reach my hand up to help her sit next to me.
Mom always loved the beach too, but it wasn’t a part of who she was like me and my dad.
Probably because she was the only one of us who wasn’t born in California.
“How ya holding up?” She caresses my platinum blonde locks.
“I’m really nervous, to be honest. I barely fit in with the people here, and this is my home.”
She nods in understanding. “You were always a recluse like your dad. It’s not a bad thing.”
Says the social butterfly.
“I feel like we’re leaving him…” I look down at my feet buried in the sand, reaching for the gold cross around my neck that he bought me for my fourteenth birthday.
I haven’t taken it off since he died.
“Oh, honey,” she sighs, “how can we leave him if he’s carried in our hearts? Your dad’s body may be buried here, but you know his spirit lives on.” She kisses my temple. “Especially through you.”
“What if I never make it back here?”
“You can make it anywhere, Bex. You’re resilient and independent, in many of the ways I wish I was.”
My mother has spent most of her adult life in relationships, even though I’m not familiar with anyone before my dad. I do know she’s always had an inability to be on her own, though, which is another reason it came as no surprise she eloped with Roman so quickly.
My mother falls in love fast and hard– something I’m afraid I inherited from her. Not that I ever really tested the theory.
“This is the first time you’ve ever taken me out of California. So probably best not to speak too soon.”
“Oh, baby girl, but California will never be taken out of you.” She brushes a rustling wave from my face, admiring it. “How can it when the color of this ocean is in your eyes?”
I inherited my bluish green eyes from my dad’s Norwegian roots, but we always used to joke that I really got them from the waters of La Jolla because he’d come here so much with my mom when she was pregnant with me.
It was silly then, kind of comforting now that I’m leaving.
Leaning my head against mom’s slender shoulder, I hug her waist, trying my best to stay positive when I say, “I’m sure New York has pretty beaches too.”
This makes her laugh. “Sure do, sweetie, but I suggest you lower your standards on them real fast, preferably before you visit one.”
Well, there goes my one and only silver lining.
* * *
The plane ridewasn’t as bad as I expected it to be—then again, Roman renting out a private jet so Potato wouldn’t be alone in the cargo area definitely helped.
It wasn’t enough, though, to stop the dreariness I felt as we took off into the sky, leaving California and everything I love about it behind us.
