Page 95 of True Blue

With shaky hands, I pick up the envelope and tear it open. Out drops a key—the key to the condo I had given Indie. Luke and Heath had done a whole dumb ceremony while out to dinner one night, making it a whole thing.

"Do you, Indie, solemnly swear to guard this key to HTL Condo with your life?"

"With my life," she'd said with a solemn nod, and then she turned to me with that bright smile that always made me feel like the luckiest bastard alive and sealed the whole joke with a kiss while my idiot friends whooped like idiots.

Inside the envelope is also a folded piece of paper.

I tear the edge a bit in my haste to open it, but there's only one word written, in Indie's swift handwriting.

Goodbye.

That's it. That's all she has to say to me.

And you know what—I don't have the fucking right to feel hurt. But I still do. Not from her hand, but from my own.

I did this.

With my cruel words, my cowardice, my fucking inability to see my mother for who she is. The excuse-making and endless later.

My eyes go to the folder, and I hope it's something else, something more from her, even if it's her telling me what a fuck-up I am. But when I see what it is, the sound that comes from me is all animal. A half-roar, half-whine that scrapes my throat raw.

It's Indie.

It's all Indie. All the drawings I've ever given her. My fingers gently go through each one, and each one twists the knife more.

The little anime Indie in her scrubs with stars in her eyes, the one I drew after she encouraged me to try manga-style tutorials and then acted like it was a masterpiece even though I thought it was mediocre.

She gasped so sweetly and kissed me, showering me with praise. I felt so motivated to keep trying after that.

The portrait of Indie, while I was trying stippling, was a disaster. She still smiled when I showed her and kept it next to her bedside table, proudly displaying it.

The sketch of Indie sitting in front of the lake outside. I've drawn that lake a hundred times, but that version was always the one I loved most, because she was in it. Head tilted up to the sky, watching it change from gold to pink to blue. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful, it made my chest feel tight.

It's all here. Given back to me. Not wanted any longer.

The one that really hurts is the realistic drawing of Indie sleeping. That's the most recent one.

I'd woken from another nightmare, sweaty and twisted up and unable to settle back into sleep. I turned on the lamp, pulled my sketchbook into my lap for the first time in what felt like months, and just... drew her.

I really took my time with it, getting her dark lashes right and the gentle bump on her nose that I adore. Her pointed chin and her sweet lips curled into a small, sleepy smile.

I left it on my pillow when I went to make breakfast. A few minutes later, she came up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist, kissed the middle of my back, and squeezed.

"I love it, Teddy bear."

"I love you, honey," I rasped, covering her hands with mine.

Lost, I fall to my knees and bury my face in my hands. Tears flow and keep falling, sobs ripping from my chest, my breath sawing in and out until my lungs burn.

From my lips is the name of the woman I failed, over and over.

"Indie... Indie... Indie..."

It flashes before my eyes, all the moments she bit her tongue, all the moments she was sidelined for my family, all the moments I chose them before her.

I thought my family was everything. I was taught to put my family first before anyone, that they were all we had.

Mom, Dad, Danielle, Stephanie, Pop, and Nana. My aunts. My uncles. My cousins.