Page 71 of Bring Me Back
âSo you decided to bake a cake?â he asks, his slippers shuffling across the floor. âMakes sense.â He shrugs and takes a seat on a barstool. âYour mom wonât let me eat cake anymore, but youâll slip your old man a piece, right?â
âOf course.â I laugh lightly and stir the batter.
âYou have some kind of powder on your nose,â he tells me. I rub it away, but I think I actually just smear it more. âGot a lot on your mind?â he prompts, playing with the pepper shaker.
âI guess you could say that.â I stir the batter like Iâm trying to beat it into submission.
âTalk to me, Kid.â He looks up at me from beneath his fuzzy eyebrows. âI only seem to find you in the kitchen at the ass crack of dawn when you really need to talk,â he continues. âSo talk.â
I set the bowl down with the batter and stick my hands on my hips. âItâs going to have been four months, dad. Four months without Ben. It feels like an eternity.â I put my hand over the slight roundness of my stomach. âI keep thinking about all the things heâs going to miss out on.â
âNo, Kid.â He shakes his head rapidly. âDonât focus on that. Instead, think about all the things he did get to do.â
âYou donât understand,â I mumble. âHe wonât be here to see our child grow up. When they learn to walk and talk. Birthdays. Christmases. Heâll always be missing. I want this baby to love him the way he deserves to be loved, but you canât love a ghost,â I whisper and look away, overcome with emotion.
âBlaire,â my dad says, his voice full of sadness. He gets up and comes around to hold me. I hold onto his robe and cry into his chest.
âIâm in love with a ghost, dad,â I whimper. âHeâs never coming back, but I canât let go.â
âB,â he says softly, worry clouding his voice, âyou donât have to let go. Moving on is different than letting go.â
âI miss him s-so much,â I sob, my words disjointed. I feel like Iâve said those words a million times but theyâre not any less true now. I do miss him. All the time. Every minute. Every hour. Some part of me is always thinking of him.
âSit here.â My dad guides me to a chair at the kitchen table. âIâll be right back,â he says, holding his hands out in front of him. My knee bounces restlessly as I wait for him to return. When he does, he has something small clasped in his hands. âI found this a few weeks ago in the closet and I held onto it until you needed it. I havenât read it, I promise.â He opens his hands, revealing the paper crane.
My breath catches in my throat. I havenât found one in so long. So long. That I began to think there were no more. I take it gingerly from his hand and hold it in my palms.
My dad bends and kisses my forehead before leaving me alone with the paper crane.
I sit it on the table, just staring at it. A part of me doesnât want to open it. What if itâs the last one? But I know I could never not open it.
I take my time unfolding the carefully-constructed origami bird.
I close my eyes when I see the thin black lines that form the words he wrote. Iâm not ready to look yet. I need a moment.
I inhale a deep breath and exhale slowly.
; When I open my eyes, his messy handwriting appears before me.
When youâre feeling down, just look to the sky and be thankful that youâre alive. We all have bad days, but we should never let them make us forget how great it is to live. On those days where it feels like you canât keep your head up do something nice for someone else. Itâll make you feel better. Trust me. Especially if that someone is me and your âsomething niceâ includes blowjobs.
âBen
I canât help it, I laugh. Thatâs my Ben. Sweet and romantic one second a complete wise ass the next.
I fold the note back up so that itâs a paper crane once more.
âThanks, Ben,â I say out loud. âI needed that, and I know exactly what to do.â
I walk into Group with my shoulders back and my chin held high. Iâm armed with sheets of paper and sharpies. There are a few people already there when I step into the gym, but Iâm early so it still gives me a chance to speak with Ryder. He looks up when I walk into the room, his eyes instantly drawn to me. Iâm not sure he even notices but his lips lift into a crooked smile and his eyes sparkle. I walk up to him and he excuses himself from speaking to Amy.
âWhatâs that youâve got there?â He points at the sheets of paper I clasp to my chest and the markers in my other hand.
âMy something nice,â I say with a shrug. His brows furrow in confusion. âItâs my way of healing,â I whisper softly. âIf you donât mind, Iâd like to explain to everyone and see if theyâd like to help.â
âOf course.â He smiles widely. âBut youâre not going to tell me first?â