Davey is getting married in two days.  I should be at the venue with the wedding planner, making sure everything is running smoothly.  I should be on the phone with the florist too, and the bakery, and the limo company, reconfirming all the things I confirmed last night.  It would keep me busy.

Keep me out of here.

Braeden arrived last night, but we’ve barely talked at all since then.  He’s an usher in the wedding, and has been helping Austin make the final preparations for Davey’s stag tomorrow night.  He said it makes him feel better to help like this.  I smiled and told him how much I appreciated everything.

In reality, I’d give anything to lock myself in a room with him and spill my guts, because I know he would listen and allow me to vent without giving an opinion.  Right now, he’s the only person that has the type of patience to deal with me when I’m hysterical.

Justin used to be someone I could stay up all night talking to.  Alone, naked together in our darkened bedroom we would talk about everything and anything that would come to mind.  Our goals, our dreams, our kids, how much we loved each other.  Those times seem so distant now, and the more time I spend with him this week, the more I just…wish I could run away.

But I can’t.

He got our baby out of jail, thank god, but has practically kept him under lock and key at his new house ever since.  Mason isn’t allowed off the grounds, and the deal is, Conner and I are to see him once and week and no more, unless it’s absolutely critical.  Justin is on this tough love kick, figures keeping him from any type of distraction will snap him out of his problems and get him to talk to the therapist more.

She’s nice enough, and according to Justin, she’s one of the best in her field.  She diagnosed Mason’s condition as severe depression, which didn’t come as a surprise to Justin and I.  She also told us she believes Mason is at higher risk for suicide, because of the discussions they’ve had together.  Naturally, we both wanted to know the best thing we could do for him, and aside from recommending a mental health clinic we could send him to, she prescribed several different medications for Justin to administer daily.  He said he’s starting to notice a change, that he doesn’t think we’ll need to send him anywhere after all.

I just think Mason has become very quiet, and dazed.  I’m not so sure I like his reaction to the meds, but I can’t come up with a better solution.  Justin seems to have a handle on this, and to be honest, it’s been better for…me, not having to worry myself sick over him every minute of the day. Conner and I have been better on our own for the first time since the divorce was finalized, and I should be happy about that.

But a part of me is still so hollow inside.

“Ab.”

I can’t look at him.  I feel like I’m going to be sick.  If Justin told me I could take off right now, I would, but I know he needs me to do this with him, just as much as I need him to be here with me.

“I’m…I’m coming.”

I step forward, and then I’m in the bedroom…Vicki’s bedroom.  I can smell the scent of her body spray, just faintly.  It’s because I’ve kept the door closed for the most part.  Now that it’s open, I know the last remaining physical memory of her will escape.  I have to close my eyes, but the tears still stream down my face.  

“Hey.”

I feel his strong arms around me immediately, rubbing his hands up and down my arms, just like he always used to do when we were in love.  

 I know we aren’t the divorced couple today.  

We’re just two grieving parents.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and tug away, rubbing at my eyes harshly before I’m able to open them up again and look around.  Everything is exactly the same.  Nothing on the dressers or desk or bed is out of place.  It’s just as she left it the day we had to move her into the hospital, and a small part of me holds out for a moment, telling me that she’s just out and will be back later.

“You think you’re ready to start?” He asks me.

“I…think, yeah.”

He walks forward, towards the closet, and slowly opens the door.  Another whiff of mango body spray lingers in the air for a few moments, and then it’s gone.  “I guess…maybe the closet is best.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s okay,” I tell him.

“Can you hand me a box?”

I grab two, and then join him inside of the massive walk in.  He’s already started with the leotards, and I feel the despair burning inside of me.  He’s so cool and collected right now, and I’m ready to break down.  He’s had coaching from a therapist when it comes to Vic and moving on though.  I decided not to go that route.

I guess I should have.  A part of me is so jealous of him.  He just…has it all together and I can barely bring myself to touch her clothing.

“Do you want any of these?” He asks, as he gently puts a pile of shining leotards inside his box.  “I was going to take a couple, and donate the rest to Coach Adamson.  I figure he must have a couple of kids who aren’t as fortunate, you know?”

I shake my head.  “I-I don’t need to keep any of those.”

“All right.”  He says it quietly and won’t look at me as he continues to pack them away.

I sit on the floor and start to go through the half dozen shoe racks.  Shoes can’t bring that much emotions out of a person, at least that’s what I tell myself, until the memories start flooding back to me.  Her running shoes.  The pink running shoes she begged me to get her on a random trip to the mall.  We were there for Conner.  He needed some soccer cleats, and I told her ‘honey you have so many pairs of sneakers’

“Please mom.” She drooped her bottom lip and gave me those puppy dog eyes that she inherited from her father.  “I’ll watch Conner anytime you want next week.”

Naturally, I caved, and of course…we picked out an outfit to match the new shoes, and then a new purse to go with that.  Not because she asked, but because it was fun.

We didn’t talk like she and her father talked, but we always had a good time when we went shopping.  That’s where we clicked as mother and daughter, and as I continue to go through all of these shoes, I realize that we were together for the purchase of each one.  Each pair of shoes holds a memory, a smiling happy memory of me and my daughter.

And suddenly, I want to keep every pair.

“We aren’t donating the shoes,” I tell Justin, immediately.  “I’m keeping all the shoes.”

He looks over at me slowly, eyeing the pair I’m holding in my hands.  “Sure.  That’s fine, Ab, if you want them.”

I just nod, and begin to put them all in a box to store away someplace in the bedroom.  Once the shoes are done, I move on to the racks and racks of clothing.  Justin has done the same.  It’s a silent process, pulling them down, seeing what they are, and deciding whether or not to donate.  I find that we don’t have to ask questions, we both know what we want, and what would be better off being donated.  It takes a good three hours before the closet is completely emptied out, and I realize that most of the clothing is being donated to charities and missions that Justin supports.

I take a step back and lean against the wall, as he starts sealing up the donation boxes with some packing tape.

He looks up at me after a while.  “You want to tape up a couple of these?”

I can’t answer him.  I’m just staring.  Staring at the boxes.  It’s Vic’s life in there, the memories of her, and they’re all going away, with the exception of a few things.  

“Abbey.”

“I can…I can just start going through the dresser drawers,” I whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to taping the boxes closed.  I think he understands.  Well, either that, or he’s just disappointed that I can’t get my emotions in check.

The dresser drawers don’t help to calm me down.  Within each one, there’s another memory.  Her better jewelry, her headbands, barrettes and hair clips.  One drawer has an envelope filled with photos of her, of us, and of her friends.  I can barely look at them, have to shove them in one of Justin’s ‘keep’ boxes, and move on.

I feel like I’m almost there, that I’m almost through it.  Just two drawers to go and I can turn my back on this, cope from afar instead of having the memories slapping me in the face and calling me a lousy mother.  

It’s when I see Taddy though, that I have to stop.  It’s like I’m stuck.  I can’t move forward.  All I can do is stare down at the small bear dressed in a purple tutu, that has one eye, half a mouth, and stuffing coming out of the hole in his side.  I remember how that little baby cried the day he ripped, how I sewed that damn hole time and time again trying to get him to stay together for playtime.

She carried this damn thing everywhere, and when she was in the hospital, it was the one thing I brought to her that made her smile.  I think…it may have been the only thing I did the whole time she was sick that made her smile, made her remember how much I loved her.  

Justin wanted to…bury him with her, and…and I pulled it out of the funeral home after the wake, kept it hidden, forced Mason to come in here and hide it so Justin would never know.

I completely forgot.  I didn’t think Justin and I would ever reach a point where we could do this together without ripping each other apart.

“Is that Taddy?”

He’s standing behind me, and his voice is full of confusion.  

I look up, see his reflection in the vanity mirror, and suck in a breath, clutching the bear closer to my chest.  “Yes.”

“I…I thought…”

“I took him back after the wake.  I was afraid to tell you.”

“Oh.”

It’s silent.  I wait for it.  Wait for him to tell me no, that he’s going to call the undertaker right now, have the casket fucking exhumed so Taddy can be in his rightful place.

“You should have told me you wanted him.  I wouldn’t have minded.”

I slowly turn to face him, tears pushing from behind my eyes, threatening to escape, to make me hysterical all over again.  “We wouldn’t have agreed then.”

He presses his lips together, eyeing the stuffed toy in my hands, and then looking at me again.  “You’re probably right.”

I stroke the bears head lovingly, remembering the time Justin brought it home for her birthday.  She told him it was her very favorite thing, despite the hours I spent online putting together that ridiculous ‘fit for a princess’ dress up kit.  I tried not to be bitter, and instead, made clothes for the bear to match the dress up kit clothes.  It was another time where we would bond as mother and daughter.  I swear, I spent hours sewing those little clothes for Taddy, attaching the little sequins and costume jewels until my fingers were sore and full of blisters.

I did it for her, because it made her happy.  Because I was her mother.

“Can I see him for a minute?”

“Um…sure…” I slowly hand the bear to my ex husband.  He holds it in both hands for a few moments, his eyes filling with tears, remembering something.

“I think you should keep him, Ab.”  He hands the bear back to me.  “She always loved the clothes you would make for him, even though he was a “boy bear” and you dressed him like a “girl bear,” he smiles and wipes his eyes a bit.

I laugh slightly through the tears that have started to slide down my face.  “I never understood why she insisted that Taddy was a boy.  I just went with it, and made the dresses because I knew she would want to match.”
“It was her favorite,” he nods, but quickly goes back to sealing the boxes.

I watch him for awhile, working quickly, doing his best to get this over with.  I’m sure he wants to get away from me, not away from the room itself.  I won’t say this isn’t awkward, being completely alone with him, because it is.  I’ve been smelling that cologne of his for hours now, and it’s driving my bonkers.  That’s the scent that’s always defined him, the one that clung to our bedsheets, to my clothing and hair after he’d been holding me in his arms as we laid on the sofa watching TV with the kids.

Suddenly, that pain is in my gut again.  The one I felt the day we tried negotiating the custody arrangement.  I couldn’t sign the papers because…because I was in love with him, even though I would deny it later, when he called me over a glass of wine and poor judgement.

And the truth is, I’ve been lost without him.  

I think I might still love him.

It’s not fucking fair, because it’s over.

I whimper, and turn back to the dresser.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I manage, and miserably continue to dig through the drawers.

“I know you’re not.”

“Well want do you want me to say.”  I slam a drawer shut and open another.  “That this isn’t difficult? That being here, alone with you, isn’t killing me?”

It’s silent.  Eventually, I manage to turn back around, to find him staring at me.

“What do you mean, it’s killing you?”

“Just forget it.” I run my hands through my hair and sniffle.  “It’s just been a bad day.”

“Bad year is more like it.”

“Yeah well, who’s fault is that?”

“You asked for the divorce,” he mutters and glares at me as he says it.

“Like I had a fucking choice.”

“Oh don’t hand me that crap.  I wanted to make it work!”

“Then why didn’t you? Why’d you burst through the damn door and scream at me to sign the papers! Threaten me with a custody battle for Conner? You acted like a damn fool!”

“You pushed me away!” He screams.  “You just gave up! Right from the get go you just…you just decided that I didn’t care, so it meant we were over! You just…left! Packed up Conner, alienated me from the boys, what the fuck was I supposed to do? There were no choices! I needed to be there for Vic and that just…I don’t even know…pissed you off? She was dying Abbey!  I fucking…I resented you for that and it’s been a hell of a time coming to terms with it.  I had to learn that people cope with things differently.  It just…I thought you would have been there a lot more than you were.”

“I couldn’t do that, not like you did, and still be able to stay sane for the boys, Justin.  Especially Conner.  You should have understood.”

“I wasn’t going to leave her.  I couldn’t.  Part of me is still trying to figure out how you could look the other way while she was suffering, but I’m done asking questions, Ab.  I want to have a life again.  I wish it could be with you, but…you quit on us a long time ago.”

“Do you think I wanted this for us! God, don’t you know how much I think about it! How much I remember how it was, how we were? How you…how you kissed me that day in the Filligans parking lot? I would have died for you then Justin.  I would have done anything for you!  I miss loving you so damn much that it physically hurts me! You just…you moved on! I try to be happy for you…but I can’t…I can’t be!”

I cry.  I hate it, but I can’t help myself.  I sob into my hands hysterically like it’s the day Vic died, and for the longest time I feel like I’m all alone.

But then…then he’s there, his strong arms around me, pulling me close to him like before, when we were happy and in love.  All I can think is how much I wish it could be real, that everything that happened could be some horrible dream that we’ve awoken from. The kids are all downstairs waiting for breakfast and we’ll go to the ocean this afternoon.

I want to go back to that time, desperately.

But we can’t go back.

“I need you too, you know?”

I hear him whisper it as he presses his nose into my hair and breathes me in.  I pull back slightly, and look up at him.  “Justin…”

His lips land on mine then, so gently, so passionately, just like I remember, and I don’t stop him, despite the dangers of this.  I can’t make myself do it.  I just kiss him back, hungrily, running my hands through his short curls as he gently pushes me out of the room and into the hall, pressing my body against the wall while he continues to work his lips from mine down to my neck and then to my chest, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on my blouse.  My eyes close, my head falls backward slightly, and I moan gently as I feel his lips land on the tops of my breasts.

We make it into the bedroom.  Our bedroom.  Countless nights of passion have commenced here, between us.  I thought those moments were gone, but here we are.  In seconds, my back hits the pillows, and I’m pulling his dress shirt out of his pants and clumsily pulling the buttons through the holes, nearly ripping the shirt off of him to get to the undershirt hidden beneath it.  We kiss as I help him get it up over his head, and I end up flinging it somewhere.  Then he’s helping me get my blouse off the rest of the way, and gently works his fingers on the clasp of my bra, getting it to snap apart in one swift motion, his lips landing on my bare shoulder the moment he slides the strap off, and does the same to the opposite side.  I work on his belt…his pants, his boxers…

Then we’re both naked, and we pause, both of us in a daze, taking each other in like it’s the first time.

I guess it has been a really long time.

He takes the plunge first, slams his lips into mine and pushes me completely down onto the mattress.  He’s silent while we make love, and the most I can do is breathe out his name heavily, quietly, my legs wrapped around him, my hands caressing his face that I love more than anything in the world.  We’re both in tears.

We climax together, moaning and groaning unearthly things into the abyss before we collapse against each other, our bodies glistening with sweat.  He strokes my face, runs his fingers through my hair, as he stares back into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against mine.  “I’m sorry…I’m sorry that I lost you.”

I feel a smile emerge after a couple of minutes, and it feels absolutely incredible.  “We lost each other,” I manage.

His eyes lightly up just slightly, and he leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead so gently, so lovingly.

“What happens now?”  I keep my gaze focused on his bare chest, gently caressing his pecs with my fingers.  

“I don’t want to think about it,” he says quietly, pulling me closer to his bare chest like he’s trying to keep me…like he never wants to let me go.  “I miss the hell out of you, but life is different now.  We both know that.”

As I gaze up into his eyes, I find that there’s only one thing I want to say to him, after all this time, and after what just happened.  “We can always start by being friends,” I smirk.

And he laughs.  It’s the laugh that I love, and the one that I’ve missed so badly for such a long time.  “That could work.”

“Or maybe it won’t.”

"Maybe," he whispers.

“Do you love me?” I whisper, searching his eyes for that light.  That light that was always there, that reassured me how much he cared.

It isn’t there now.

“I don’t know,” he says sadly.  “Do you love me?”

And I know I can’t tell him yes, because I’m just as confused.  “I don’t know.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he reassures me and holds me tighter in his arms, not hesistating to give me another soft kiss on the lips.  “I promise, we’ll figure it out.  Right now, let’s just watch Davey start his life, all right?”

I nod, and close my eyes after that, allowing myself to doze off in his arms.  I feel safe.  I feel like things are turning around, getting better, might work themselves out.

And that…

That’s all I really could have asked for.