Page 64 of The Wedding Fake
“I know that,” I ground out, my voice strained. Of course I knew that. Not one day went by that I didn’t think about the way that night had broken my whole family.
She tipped her face, silently demanding I maintain eye contact while she spoke. “Because I think there are a couple things you’ve never understood.”
My breath came in ragged gulps, but I held her gaze, bracing myself for whatever revelations were forthcoming. She had the right to tell me the truth.
“Me, Mom, Dad, Amy—we know you would’ve done anything to save him. We know you would’ve killed yourself to save him if that beam hadn’t stopped you.” Her voice sounded hoarse, and tears burned at the backs of my eyes. I looked down at my knees.
“And Hud, losing Lawrence was the hardest thing to happen to any of us, but if we’d lost you, too…I don’t think Mom and Dad would’ve survived that.” She sniffed hard, but even as I looked down at my knees I could see her gaze never wavered. “Sometimes I worry you think you should’ve died that night. Like you owed that to Lawrence. And I don’t think you realize how grateful we are to still have you.” Her voice broke, but I couldn’t fill the silence, because tears clogged my throat, flowing freely from my eyes to make little wet circles on my pant legs.
She leaned forward, wrapping me in a hug, and though I wanted to say thank you or I love you, all I could do was cry.
“This family needs you—I need you,” Sammie choked out.
“Okay,” was all I could say, and hopefully she understood.
Hudson: Are you free today? I’d like to talk
Amy: ok
It was hard to read into the two little letters, and I stared at the phone, questioning this idea, not for the first time today.
Amy: 785 George Street
Hudson: Noon ok? I can bring lunch. You still like Filone?
I could so easily picture Amy and Lawrence sharing sub sandwiches from the little shop downtown.
Amy: That would be good. Thank you.
It was almost eleven already, so I began the walk that would take me from Sammie’s little apartment to the downtown.
It was a bit of a hike, but the day was cooler and a slight breeze ran through my hair. The sky was the most vibrant blue—an absolutely perfect day—in complete contrast to the emotions that roiled violently in my stomach.
I’d tried not to think about what Sammie said, but now, with nothing else to think about, my brain tried to make sense of the information. I’d blamed myself for Lawrence’s death since the first instant I awoke in the hospital. It was only logical that everyone else saw the night with the same clarity. The idea that Mom and Dad might be relieved to have one of us—well, even if it were true, I couldn’t help but think they’d rather it have been Lawrence.
I picked up the sandwiches—a veggie sub for me and an Italian for Amy, then walked to the address she’d given me. I got there at five till twelve, but didn’t bother to stall.
Amy answered after a single knock. “Hudson,” she said on a breath, her brow creasing.
I regretted coming instantly. Surely Mom was wrong about Amy wanting to see me, and that was okay. “I’m sorry, Amy. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t go. I just—God, I forgot how much you two looked alike,” she said, regaining her voice, though a tremble remained. “Come in,” she said, stepping back and out of the way.
I followed Amy into a tidy kitchen, sitting down opposite her at the kitchen island. “Your mom said you moved into the city.”
“I did,” I agreed.
“You like it there?”
I ripped my sandwich in half, picking up the larger side. “It’s good. I got a job as a paramedic. It hasn’t been easy—because of COVID, you know—but I like it.”
“I’m glad. I know your mom misses you, though.” She took a dainty bite from the edge of her sandwich.
“I miss her, too. I miss the whole family.”
“You should visit more then,” she replied, and I frowned.
“I don’t—I don’t like to be here.”