Page 55 of A Lifetime of Afters
“Hawk,” I cried, my voice rasping. A decade of grief saturated that single syllable, then wrenched it from the very heart of me, and split me wide open.
My body bowed forward, caving in, my walls in flames. I clung to Lou, her softness, her familiar smell, her arms an oasis in the desert, as the loop played on. As my heart bled, my soul keened, and my walls fell into a smoldering pile of ash at my feet.
I began to shake.
And Lou held firm, her voice in my ear.
Incapable of discerning any meaning from her words, the sound of her voice alone threw a line to rescue me from my isolation, to pull me from my self-imposed pit.
The reality of all I’d lost waited at the top as I pushed my way out. Like a baby coming into the air, the first breath burned. I squeezed my eyes shut at the shock and clung to Lou. To what I still had.
For as long as I had her.
I swallowed.
Convulsed.
The first tear fell.
I allowed that.
Then the second, and a third I did not permit.
“I love you, Lou,” I blubbered.
Dan coughed behind me and cleared his throat.
“Aw, my lamb,” she stroked my hair and held me tighter, her voice strained. “I love you, too.”
I pulled back so I could see her face. I had to tell her. I had to tell somebody. I had no idea if my celestial emails were working, and I needed someone to know.
I grasped her arms. “I miss my mom,” I whispered.
A garbled sound came from my dad. I ignored it, focused desperately on Lou’s eyes. I needed another lifeline and I hoped somehow she held that one as well.
“I miss her, too, lamb.”
I nodded in acceptance and took a deep breath. Tried to release her, but my hands would not obey the message from my brain.
I nodded again, clinging desperately.
“What else, lamb?” she prodded.
My eyes flew back to hers. “Hunter,” I blurted, and grew alarmed as tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry!”
“No,” she shook me lightly. “Never apologize for bringing up his name. That’s how we keep him alive.” Her eyes searched mine. “What else?”
This was harder. Fresher. Soul-deep.
I swallowed convulsively. Tried to keep it in, but this pain, too, demanded to be shared.
“Hawk.” His name came out with a deep, guttural sob.
“I know, lamb.” Lou’s eyes held compassion. Acceptance. Love.
“Oh, no,” I moaned. My chest constricted as I struggled to hold in the worst of it. I wrapped my arms around my head to hide my face, give myself space to pull myself together, but there was no holding back the deluge.
The sharp edge of his rejection.
