Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
My tears finally fell. The last time I fully sobbed like this was at his funeral.
“I’ve tried to do what I could to live a life you’d be proud of, to take care of people, save people. I couldn’t save you, but I can save someone else in your memory. That’s the best I could come up with.”
After my tears dried, I sat in silence for a while before I resumed talking to him.
“I’m sure you’ve seen Bridget. The one with the best arse. Yeah…her. If you were here, I’d definitely ask for your advice on what to do. The truth is, I know a lot of my hesitation when it comes to her—getting close to her son, ironically, has everything to do with you—my fear of hurting them, like I hurt you. I failed to protect you and I’m sorry. I know I have no right to ask you for guidance, but I do like to think of you as my guardian angel. So, if you can find the time to give me your opinion, that would be brilliant. If not, I can go fuck myself. That’s okay, too. As long as you’re okay, brother—wherever you are. As long as you’re okay…that’s all that matters.”
I stayed at the same spot at the edge of the pier the entire morning. The longer I stayed, the more comfortable I was there. The loch was no longer the scary, murky place I’d remembered. The sun was even trying to peek through the clouds.
At one point, I took out my phone to check if I had any messages. My parents had texted to check in on me. I’d told them where I was going.
I hadn’t heard from Bridget, not that I’d expected to. It dawned on me that yesterday was the day of Brendan’s party. Bridget didn’t post on Facebook much, only when there was an event involving her son.
I checked her page to see if she had posted any photos. Sure enough, there was an entire album of pictures titled Brendan’s 9th Birthday.
Scrolling through, I couldn’t help but smile. There were pictures of Brendan running around with giant water guns with his friends. Bridget had also rented an inflatable slide.
I stopped at a photo of Bridget and Brendan that nearly took my breath away. She was wearing a blue strapless dress that really brought out her eyes. Her caramel-colored hair was straighter than normal. I had never really noticed how deep her dimples were. She and Brendan both looked really happy.
Keeping my focus on the picture, I tried to imagine what it would be like years down the line to have to look at photos like this, what it would feel like to see her inevitably moving on. There was no doubt in my mind that if she put herself out there, that someone would snag her quickly. She hadn’t a clue how attractive she really was.
How would it feel, Simon?
How would it feel to truly walk away from her? From them? Forever.
I couldn’t describe in words how it would feel. But I was experiencing it in my body. That rush of adrenaline and panic. The anger inside of me that always developed when I thought about her with another man.
Then there was Brendan. He deserved someone who wanted to be a father to him—not a big, goofy friend. A father. I didn’t feel good enough for that role. But did I want it?
Stopping for a moment to look up at the sky, I got chills because there was a faint rainbow forming. It hadn’t even rained.
I continued to scroll through the pictures from Brendan’s party, laughing at myself for thinking I was going to somehow find the answer to my dilemma in a Pokémon piñata.
Bridget had really gone all out. She’d even had place settings featuring the names of each boy written on a piece of folded paper with a different Pokémon character next to the name. She’d taken a separate, close-up photo of each one.
It wasn’t until the last name that I realized maybe I was getting my answer in a Pokémon party after all.
BLAKE.
I couldn’t wait to see her.
Straight from the airport, I drove to Bridget’s house. She’d be leaving to pick up Brendan from school in less than a half-hour, but there was no way I could wait. Which reminded me, I needed to have more sympathy for the addicts that came into the ER. Having never experienced being hooked on anything my entire life, I was generally not empathetic when they came in seeking something to hold them over until their next fix. But I sure as shit could use a Valium myself right now. I had all the signs of addiction—craving and compulsion, loss of appetite, disrupted sleep patterns, spending an inordinate amount of time planning the next fix in my head, and lying to myself that I didn’t need my drug. When I pulled up in front of her house, my hands even began to shake. Totally fucking addicted.