Page 80 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
What was wrong with me? Was I selfish?
Here we were, so soon after Macy's trauma, sitting in her room and gathering her belongings, where she has to say goodbye to amajor part of her life, and part of me was still thinking about that damned purse. I told Caden last night that I was afraid I would get lost in all of this, that I was afraid we would fall apart. I can't help but feel like those fears are coming true and I don't know how to articulate it.
A tear sprung to my eye, but I looked away, afraid Caden might see. I stopped myself though—maybe I need Caden to see. Maybe he needs to see that I was struggling still, that this whole situation was hard for me in ways I didn't know how to explain. Part of our issues, I know, were exacerbated by me not communicating—expecting him to change without telling him that I wanted him to change.
"Felicity?" Caden's voice was gentle. "You okay?"
I turned around, still holding Macy's clothes. "Yeah, just... taking it all in, I guess."
But I wasn't okay. Why can't I bring myself to tell him?
Looking around this sterile room that was supposed to be Macy's space, I felt overwhelmed by everything we were dealing with. Macy's trauma, our marriage, becoming full-time parents overnight, and somehow, underneath it all, my own selfish wants that I couldn't seem to shake. Honestly, I wish my mom were still with me. I feel like I could talk to her, and she would know what to do.
"Can we get my art supplies too?" Macy asked, pointing to a desk in the corner. "They're in the bottom drawer."
Caden walked over and pulled out a sketch pad, some colored pencils, and markers. "This it?"
"Yeah—it's not a lot but I love drawing. Mom said when I go through that sketchpad she'd see if she could get me another."
The reminder of Jessica hit me like a punch. Focus—just get this done and you can think these things through when we get home.
"That's great, honey, maybe with the move we can get you some more." I said, kneeling down next to the desk. "We can set up a really nice art station in your room at home."
"Really?"
"Really."
Macy's face lit up. "That would be so cool!"
As we continued packing, I found myself watching Caden with Macy. He was so patient, asking her about each item, making sure she felt heard about what mattered to her. This was the man I'd fallen in love with—attentive, caring, present. It made me wonder why it had taken a crisis to bring this version of him back. And then it made me aggravated. At him. At myself. At the situation. Tamp it down, Felicity. Let's not lose it in front of everyone, yeah?
"I think that's everything," Macy said after we'd filled two large duffel bags and a box with her books.
"What about your school stuff?" I asked. "Notebooks, backpack?"
"Oh yeah!" She ran to her closet and pulled out a purple backpack. "I'll need this for when I go back to school."
Well that felt a bit weird. We'd never had her for school drop off before. Could that really be? Damn, that can't be right. But as I thought back, it was just weekends and vacations, so dropoff at school really hadn't been a thing.
What time is drop off? Am I supposed to make her lunch? Does she need anything special? I don't even know her teachers!Internally, my wheels started to spin. I had this crushing feeling in my stomach—Am I even ready for something like this? This is bigger than we'd experienced with Macy before. Sure, we went to events and supported her for things, but this is routine stuff that I have absolutely no idea how to do.
I took a breath. Reminded myself that there was a time and a place to have my freak out and that was not here.
Brad helped us carry everything to the car while Macy did a last run through inside. As we loaded the bags, I caught Caden looking at me with concern.
"What?" I asked.
"You've been quiet. More quiet than usual."
I glanced back at the house, then at Macy who was arranging Lamby in the backseat. "Just processing, I guess."
"Okay. You want to talk?"
I looked at him like he was crazy, whispering, "not here, Caden. Yes—I want to talk, but not right this second."
"Yeah. Sorry. I'm not really thinking straight."
I sighed, realizing I needed to give a little on this one. "It's okay."
