Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
So I say the only thing I can think of. “Thank you.”
It’s a thank you for listening to me, for not flinching away from the dark ugliness of loss, for not judging me for how I dealt with it in those early days. Mostly, it’s a thank you for just being herself, Riley. Because while she lives in the light and in the moment, she’s been through the dark and has pain in her past too.
“Don’t put too much on Grace, though. She deserves a father who lives, not just exists for her. One day, she’ll grow up and want to spread her wings. You don’t want her to feel trapped because she’s all you have.”
I suck in a painful breath, but it catches in my throat. “That’s not what I’m doing.” Even as I say it, I’m considering whether she’s right.
Riley looks at me, and this time I do see something—sadness. “When my mom died, it felt so unfair because everyone else still had their mothers. I’d see them—at the grocery store, at school, on TV—and I’d ask why they got to have one and I didn’t. I was still so young, at an age when I thought ‘fair’ was a reality that existed for everyone. Mom’s death was my first painful life lesson that fair is imaginary, and nobody’s doling out this and that to everybody on Earth, making sure no one gets more or less than another.” She takes a measured breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly, and her voice is stronger when she continues. “I spent a long time thinking I had to live for Mom, like because her life was cut short, I had to make mine this Massively Important Experience. It made me freeze up for a while, every little decision had this weight, and I couldn’t breathe, much less decide anything.” She stares out over the yard, and I wonder if she’s done. Fuck knows, what she’s said is a lot. But she huffs out a teeny-tiny laugh like she’s remembered something funny amid this awful sadness. “I was trying to pick an outfit for school pictures one time, and mind you, I had all of two nice shirts, and I just couldn’t choose one because I couldn’t decide which would look better blown up as my memorial photo at my funeral if I died before the next round of pictures.”
“Fuck,” I growl. “That’s rough.”
She shrugs it off like that’s not the darkest of dark thoughts for a literal child to have. “There are good things, bad things, and in-the-middle things. You’ve gotta take them all, enjoy them or do your best to get through them, and in the end, try to focus on the good ones as much as you can. Even if you have to create those good things for yourself. That’s what I try to do every day.”
I feel like I learned a whole hell of a lot about Riley from what she just shared. I knew that despite her easy smiles and playfulness, she wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but hearing how deep-rooted her pain is makes the fact that she chooses light and happy as often as she can that much more surprising. There is a powerful beauty in that. In her.
“You don’t merely try. You do that every day.”
A smile blooms slowly across her face, and I feel warm inside for being the one who caused it. I’m not often a smile-bringer the way Riley is, and after the heaviness of our conversation, that she can smile is only further testament to her strength. “Was that a compliment? An honest to goodness, raving review on my awesomeness? I knew you’d come around to the dark side.” She’s teasing lightly, not letting either of us wallow in the bleakness a conversation about death would typically entail, and I appreciate that more than she could possibly know. Well, actually, she probably does know. That’s why she’s doing it.
Magic. That’s what she is. Because I’ve never said any of what I just shared with her, and yet, somehow, I do feel better now that I have. And no one has ever told me anything like what she did, and I will carry that honor with the respect it deserves.
“If you’re the dark side, what does that make me?” I ask, intending it to be rhetorical.
“Responsible,” is Riley’s quick and sure answer. “I’m not dark as in evil, but rather like instant gratification. I bounce from one thing to the next, wanting new experiences and taking every opportunity, because I understand that death is inevitable, and at some point, I won’t get any more chances. So I take advantage of every second I get.” She purses her lips in a tiny smile, and I wonder what adventure she’s remembering. I want to hear about them all, every single story about every single escapade she’s ever had.