Page 61 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
Free
Forgiven
Filled
We head back inside where Mom grabs her tablet so she can start on the meal signups. “I know you need to head home, and I need to work on the meal train for Coach.”
I pull her in for one final hug before collecting all of Grace’s things. “I need to get Grace home before she decides to party all night.”
Mom laughs, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I remember those days. You text me once you’re home.”
“Always, Mom.”
I gently close the door to Grace’s tiny bedroom and head to the sofa to deal with my feelings. Poor Grace got a head full of tears as I breastfed her before bed, pouring out my heart to God. She didn’t seem to notice or care, but I feel bad for showering her little head like that.
I tip my head back, and stare at the ceiling, willing the tears to be done. Some nights I read, some nights I watch a show or two, or plot out new recipes or designs for baked goods. I don’t feel like doing any of those things tonight. Part of me wants to cry some more, give in to the overwhelming feelings.
But there’s a little voice telling me to do something else. Something I should’ve done a long time ago. Well, I have done it, but I haven’t gotten the desired result. Ms. Rosa’s death, and her little prompt to call him again, is the excuse I need to finally work up the courage and call Austin.
I want to call, not just to make sure that he heard the news, but also so I can hear his voice. I miss the way his deep baritone voice can wash over me and make me feel loved, cherished, safe. I haven’t heard his voice in so long, aside from the videos that I have of him.
I pull out my phone and tap his name. Then the call button. My breath is squeezed and held captive in my lungs as I wait. After four rings he finally picks up.
“Hello?” His voice is filled with shock and surprise. I was almost expecting it to be the girlfriend, or to get his voice mail.
“Austin? ... It’s me.” I whisper. Partly because I’m nervous, but also to avoid waking Grace. Even though she sleeps through everything.
He laughs, “I know.”
“I um… I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend was there.” I stumble over the words. “Anyway, um, I wanted to make sure that you’d heard about Ms. Rosa.” I bite my lip, holding my breath.
“Hi. Um. I don’t know what to say…” He leaves the sentence hanging. I can picture him running a hand through his hair. In the past when he did that I always wished it was my hand instead.
“Me neither. I wasn’t sure if you would answer.”
“I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from you again.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever call you again after your girlfriend answered last time.” My chest pinches with dread. I’ve done everything I can to think of him as someone else’s. But now that I’m hearing his voice… I still see him as mine.
“I’m not dating anyone.” His voice is low, almost angry. “What do you mean ‘last time?’”
“I called almost a year ago. Some girl answered your phone. She sounded drunk or high, but the message was clear. You and I were over.” Tears clog my eyes and nose, stealing my breath. I just wanted to tell him about Ms. Rosa and hang up. I don’t really want to talk. Sure, closure is nice. But I don’t want the heartache of losing him all over again.
“I promise you, there’s no one else, Raegan. There never could be.” He pauses and takes a breath, almost like he was going to say something else, but something stopped him.
“I…” I clear my throat. “I’m not calling to hash things out. Um, I just wanted to make sure that you knew about Ms. Rosa.”
I hear him swallow. “What about Ms. Rosa?” He asks.
“She passed away this afternoon.” I slowly and reverently whisper the words. I know Coach was more involved in Austin’s life than Ms. Rosa was, but they were a package deal. I know that they talked about everything, and prayed for everyone together.
“Wow.” Shock fills his voice. “I knew she had cancer, but didn’t know it was that bad.”
“I thought she had a little more time. But God’s timeline isn’t always the same as ours.” Oof, those words hit a little too close to home. Guess I’m preaching to the choir here.
“I’m actually coming to Clear Creek next week. I’ll be there for Christmas.”
I don’t know what to say. My mouth is hanging slightly ajar. “Well, I um… I guess I’ll see you when you’re in town.” I try to swallow the dread in my stomach, but it rises like bile up my esophagus. “Anyway, I, um, wanted to make sure you knew.” I pick at the edge of my shirt. “I have an early morning, um… so I need to go.”And I want to cry again, but I don’t want you to hear me cry.
