Page 54 of The Choices I've Made
This was like a twist of a knife straight into Molly’s heart.
“I don’t know, hon, but he demanded I visit you today and call it off. Otherwise, he’d do it over the phone, and I couldn’t let him be that cruel.”
“I was just there. I just saw him.”
She nodded, the warmth and understanding of a mother showing through the depth of her eyes. “He called right after you left. I argued with him over it, asked him to think it over and not make any rash decisions. He said he’d thought it over, more than any of us could realize, and it was the best choice for everyone.”
“What did his doctors say?” Molly asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I called his psychiatrist right after we hung up, and he said that this was all part of the journey.”
“What journey?” she cried. “How can this be helpful? Pushing people away? Pushing me away?”
She buried her head in the loving embrace of Dottie as I watched the heartbreaking scene below. Part of me felt like I was intruding on a personal moment, but I knew, once Mrs. Sutherland left, someone would need to be here to help pick up the pieces.
“He wants you to move on with your life,” she instructed.
“And what about his life? Does he care about that at all?”
“I think he’s trying. The doctor said he was making clear strides toward acceptance, but they were small steps.”
“Including, but not limited to, dumping his fiancée?”
“I’m not happy with him either, and believe me…when this is all said and done, he’s going to get an earful from his dear old mother for putting her through this. You know you are already a daughter in my eyes? You always have been.”
“For me, too,” Molly said.
“Let’s not forget that, hmm?”
I chose that moment to walk away. They could say good-bye without prying eyes. Unlocking the yellow room, I found myself flooded with the memories it held.
It happened every time I entered.
But, today, I couldn’t help but think about the future.
Molly had had hers all planned out—a handsome husband, a thriving business—and that had all been crushed the moment I ran into Dean.
Was I to blame for this?
And, if so, what could I do to fix it?
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I did the only thing I could think of.
I called the hospital and asked for Dean’s room.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Nice to talk to you too,” he replied, a distinct note of amusement in his tone.
“This isn’t a damn joke Dean. I just had to watch Molly get dumped by your fucking mother. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“A lot,” he said simply.
“She’s downstairs crying because of you.”
And it’s breaking my damn heart, I failed to say.
