I cannot live with myself. I cannot live with the memories of what we were and what I’ve become. I cannot live without her.
Continued from Chapter 19…
I stumble into the apartment, my vision blurred by tears.
My son hates me. My husband has abandoned me. I don’t even have a memento of my daughter except the bed she never grew into.
I move to the bed and lay my head on the pillow and think of her. She was so different from me, full of life and laughter. I would have tucked her into this bed with stories and kisses. At twelve, when I was crawling into bed with boys, she would have been telling me secrets and giggling over school escapades before crawling under the covers. As a teenager, her bed would have been a sanctuary in our happy home for peaceful rest.
But she never got the chance. Instead she sleeps eternally in a box in the ground, a bed she will never outgrow.
I feel like my skin’s been peeled off and my skeleton, my muscles, and all my nerves are exposed to the atmosphere. My emotions are as raw as my open flesh. I need more than anything else at that moment to be surrounded by Caroline, to touch and feel everything that was hers. I have nothing of Caroline’s in the pool house except this bed. Sinclair has everything else. At least, I hope he still has everything. He wouldn’t have thrown it away, would he? I’ve been gone so long, I don’t know. I’ve been disconnected from everything. I don’t know what happened to her things. I pull my car keys from my pocket and take off in my car.
As I pull into Sinclair’s driveway, I realize how early in the day it is. Sinclair is still at the office, no doubt treating strep throat and flu cases.