Moment of Weakness (Embracing Moments Book 1) (2 page)

I nodded, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. The lump was most likely my heart because I could no longer feel it thumping against my chest. Opening the door, Theo stepped out, his black suit standing out amongst the dark blue and black uniforms. After minutes of waiting, and Theo no longer in view, I slumped back into my seat, trying to settle my trembling hands. I wanted to listen to Theo. I wanted to stay in the car like he asked me to, but I wanted to find my parents more.

My fingers wrapped around the small black handle of the door, and as I pushed it open, a cool breeze hit my face. I dropped my feet to the ground and on unsteady legs moved toward the front steps of the house. As the distance to the front door grew smaller, a chill twisted down my spine, meeting the unsettling feeling in my stomach.

My legs stopped moving.

Something in my brain told me to look away, but my eyes remained glued on the sight before me. A group of medics gripped the side rails of the gurney, trying to carefully navigate it down the stone steps. My eyes searched frantically, trying to catch a glance at who occupied the moving bed, but when I finally caught a clear view, my lungs struggled to breathe. The black bag that sat upon it was zipped closed, and a man stood nearby with a clipboard in his hand. His words, “approximate time of death: fourteen hundred hours,” shot through the air like a directive.

Fourteen hundred hours. Time of death. What does that even mean?

“Whoa.” The sound of a deep voice cut through the commotion, and my gaze traveled to the older brown-haired gentleman it belonged too. “Lawson! We have an issue over here.”

One of the police officers turned around to face me. “Oh. Whoa. Where did she come from?”

“I don’t know. But figure out where she came from and get her out of here, would you?”

As the police officer walked toward me, my knees gave out beneath me, and my body crashed to the ground. A painful burning sensation stung the corner of my eyes, and as I fought to keep the tears from falling, my father and Theo entered my line of sight. Supported by Theo, my father stumbled down the steps, his eyes red and swollen, his cheeks soaked with tears that continued to fall. His gaze landed on me, and I wanted to call out to him, but the words didn’t come. They got lost somewhere between my throat and my mouth.

“Julia!”

“Daddy,” I sobbed. Pushing up off the ground, I moved toward my father. His legs ate up the distance between us, and the second he reached me, he pulled me against his chest. “Daddy, where is Mom?”

My father’s hold on me tightened, and his silence was deafening. The medics. The gurney. The black zipped-up bag. Time of death. Everything hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest.

“She’s gone, baby. She’s gone,” my father cried, his hot tears falling against my cheeks and mixing with my own. The image of my mother sitting in the grass beside me just hours ago entered my mind. Closing my eyes, I focused on the warmth of her hug, the soft sound of her voice, trying desperately to commit them to memory. I stayed like that until the sound of the commotion dissipated and darkness swallowed me.

Opening my eyes, I stared at the white ceiling above me. Black shadows from the swaying trees danced among them, and as I rose to a sitting position to glance at the clock, my eyes landed on a wrapped box sitting beside it. A coordinating bow adorned the top, and the perfectly creased edges gave away the person who had wrapped it. With shaky hands, I picked up the card resting against it, and slid my fingers under the glued seal of the envelope. My heart hammered in my chest as I read the card.

Congratulations, Julia! I’m so proud of you! -Xoxo, Mom

I placed the card back down on my nightstand and tore the paper from the box. My fingers traced the corners, hesitant to lift the lid and reveal its contents. When I summoned enough courage, I pushed a heavy breath from my mouth and opened the box. My eyes fell to the antique butterfly clip that rested in it, and the breath I was trying to take died in my throat. Blue rhinestones covered the broad expanse of its wings, and as my fingers traced the sparkling jewels, I jumped from my bed and darted toward the window. My heart felt like it was beating entirely too fast in my chest, which was strange, because I was positive it had stopped beating altogether a few hours ago. Looking out the window, I scanned our property. The yellow tape had disappeared, and the driveway was empty.

Maybe it was just a dream. Please be just a dream.

I swallowed hard and moved to my dresser, placing the white box on top of it. All the proof I needed was staring at me in the form of a dead weed. The delicate dandelion I placed on my dresser this morning, rested in the same spot. When reality hit me, I grabbed the dandelion from my dresser and headed straight for the back door. Theo and my father sat on the couch, a sad silence passing between them. As I raced past them, I ignored their calls, the dark sky above me, and the chirping of the crickets. My legs moved along the tiled path in quick, long strides, and when I entered the meadow, I dropped to my knees.

My chest burned. My lungs struggled to swallow the air they were grasping at, and when the image of my mother sitting in the grass appeared before my eyes, I lost it. My body folded to the ground, uncontrolled sobs left my throat, and the weight of the day’s events pressed against my chest crushing it. All I wanted to do was stop the ever-growing pain in my heart, but I didn’t know how. Staring at the dandelion still clutched in my hand, I rolled to my side and crawled across the meadow, the long blades of grass and flowers crunching beneath my knees as I made my way toward another patch of dandelions. I needed all the wishes I could get. When I reached the patch, I gripped a handful of the brownish-green stems and pulled them from the ground.

The warm tears that raced down my cheeks, turned cold as a cool breeze blew through the meadow. But despite the breeze, my entire body felt like it was on fire, like it was going to self-implode. And I hoped it would. I hoped it would because I couldn’t believe anything could hurt worse than the agonizing pain that filled my heart. The delicate seeds sprouting from the center white bulbs swayed, and before they had a chance to break free, I closed my eyes and blew a heavy breath, sending them soaring through the air.

I didn’t make just one wish. No. I made several. I wished I could see my mom again, to feel her wrap her arms around me one more time. I wished this day had never happened. I wished for the fairies to go to heaven and bring her back.

Because, God, I wanted her back.

I wanted to tell her I loved her, and that I needed her. But I knew. Deep down inside, I knew none of those wishes would come true. Because fairies weren’t real, and she was never coming back no matter how many wishes I made. So I sat there, watching the dandelion seeds dance through the air.

And then I felt it.

I felt my heart break in two. Part of it kept beating, pumping blood through my veins, keeping me alive to deal with all the pain. The second half of my heart stopped beating altogether. That second half died that day. It died with her.

And I was convinced that part of my heart would never beat again.

Present Day—Julia, Age 20

STEPPING OUT OF
the cab, I took a deep breath and looked around the packed train station. I couldn’t believe how many people still traveled by train. Most seemed to be anxious college students, waiting to head wherever their destinations would take them. As my eyes scanned the crowded station, my mind wondered if anyone else was in the same predicament as me. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be just another college student going home for the summer. I should have been traveling by foot to a new destination every few days. No map. No time frame. This summer should have been the one that allowed me to push everything aside and just try to live a little. Because I hoped if there was anywhere I could just let go and live, it’d be Europe.

That was the plan.

At least that was the plan until my boyfriend decided he was sick of waiting for me to give it up. We should have gone together, Robby, his cousin Tony, and Megan. Megan was my roommate, and until a few days ago, one of the closest friends I had. We met freshman year of college and were dorm mates. She was fun and easy to get along with, and once sophomore year rolled around, we got an apartment together off campus. She even came home with me the summer of our freshman year. So, I never imagined our friendship ending the way it did. It’s amazing how one minute everything is going as planned, your life is just the way you want it to be, and then,
BAM!
Everything changes. It shouldn’t have surprised me, just like baseball, life liked to throw you its curve balls. I was over playing its game.

The heavily accented voice of the cab driver pulled me from my thoughts. “Anything else I can do for you, Miss?” He had already grabbed my bags from the trunk and placed them on the curb beside me.

“No thank you,” I said, shaking my head and pulling cash from my wallet. My father would have a fit if he knew I was taking public transportation. He constantly insisted on purchasing me a vehicle, but I never saw a need for one. When I was home, Theo would drive me around, and at school, everything was so close, I preferred to walk. If I needed a vehicle, Megan never hesitated to let me use hers. Now, I was regretting not having one. Dragging my bags behind me, I maneuvered myself through the crowds of people, trying to make my way toward the ticket counter. The long velvety ropes that sectioned off the ticket line from the rest of the crowd were overflowing with people. I took a spot at the end of the line, dropped my suitcase to the ground, and waited. I waited for what felt like an eternity. If my foot could reach my ass, I would have kicked myself for not buying a ticket earlier in the week. Leaving town was the only thing I wanted to do since getting home from work Monday night. If it wasn’t for having to finish up my final shift at the bar and completing my finals, I’d already be home.

The buzzing sensation in the back pocket of my shorts was making my ass cheek numb. While Megan had made no effort to call or text me since Monday evening, Robby didn’t know how or when to stop. It should have been the other way around. If Megan valued any ounce of our friendship, she should have made some attempt. Right? I was sick of reading Robby’s apologies and endless excuses. There was no excuse that justified sleeping with your girlfriend’s friend. No matter how many times he’d text me, my thoughts and feelings on the matter weren’t going to change. While I had no intention of forgiving either of them, I at least expected Megan to say or do
something.
Getting over Robby wouldn’t be hard. I liked him, sure. But we were dating for five months, and his pre-med courses had him so preoccupied with studying and volunteer work, I barely saw him.

Startled by the loud cheering of everyone in the ticket line, I looked around trying to see what caused the sudden celebration. The screen from the other ticket window rolled up in a quick clatter, and an older short-haired woman sat down in front of it. After a few more minutes of waiting, I made it to the counter.

“Can you tell me what time the next train leaves for Brookedale, New York, please?”

“Tomorrow evening at four pm.”

My mouth fell open. There was no way I heard her right. I leaned in closer. “I’m sorry, what time did you say?”

A huffy facial expression replaced her barely-there smile. She looked like an over-starved dog wanting to bite my head off. “Tomorrow evening at four pm,” she said, enunciating every word.

I should have expected this. Brookedale, New York is such a small town it probably doesn’t even show up on Google maps. And
everything
shows up on Google maps.

Bored one evening, I sat in the library, waiting for Megan to finish her research paper. I was playing with Google maps when I discovered the neat little street view tool. I thought it was the coolest thing. Until I landed on an image of an old man standing on his porch. Not sure I was seeing correctly I zoomed in on the image.

Big mistake!

That little old man wasn’t so little. Nope. He was overly round and naked. Sure was. Bare-ass naked. His wrinkly ass cheeks took up my entire computer screen. That was the first and last time I ever clicked on that button.