t takes days for me to face the world again. My ego is so bruised from Jordan's rejection that all I can do is mope around the house reliving the moment he called kissing me a mistake. Dad tells me to snap out of it and be productive, but being productive is a lot easier said than done. Besides, productivity seems impossible when all I can think about is Jordan.

I've never believed in fireworks or any of that stuff, but I swear, that's how it felt when we kissed, like a million tiny fireworks exploding at once. While doing things with Ryan always felt nice, the I need to rip your clothes off right now passion I'd felt with Jordan is brand new to me. New, and exciting. And also depressing.

God, I wish I still hated him. But it's hard now that I know why he wants to sell the cafe. He's not just doing it for money for himself, he's doing it for his family, and if I were in his position, I'd do the same thing.

When Dad has had enough of my moping, he enlists my help in preparing some food for a barbecue he's catering later. His fingers move fast as he chops up vegetables for his famous salad, and I can't help but notice the hint of a smile on his lips. Whenever he's cooking, he lights up in a way I haven't seen him do since Mom died, like cooking is the one thing that keeps him going. I work on marinating the leaves, thinking about what one thing I have that keeps me going, but all I can think of is the cafe.

As though he's able to read my mind, Dad looks over and frowns. "I know I'm not exactly the best at talking feelings," he says, "but if you tell me what's wrong, I'll try my best to fix it."

I smile a little, because that's Dad all over. He likes to fix problems, to take away your pain, whereas my mom was the opposite. She'd just let me vent instead of trying to solve my issues, throwing in the occasional empathetic quip. When I asked her once why Dad gave solutions but she just sat and listened, she said, "You already have the answer to your problems, that's not the point. Sometimes we just need to get our feelings out."

I realized then that she got it, got me, in ways that even Dad couldn't. I didn't want someone to give me a solution to a problem I'd already figured out: I just wanted to be heard.

"It's okay," I say softly, squeezing his hand, because what I really need is Mom back, and he can't fix that. "I'm just having one of those days."

"Ah," he says, "those days. Do you need any....um, thing? Things? You know?" He does some weird floating action with his hand, and I realize he thinks I'm on my period.

"Not one of those days." I step back from the counter. "Okay, my helping you has officially expired."

After kissing him on the cheek, I head up to my room and kill some time by sorting out my closet. If I'm heading off to the mainland soon, I'll need to figure out what to pack, and that starts with clearing away some of the junk that has begun to gather dust in my cupboards.

Lexi has always been the neat freak of the family. Before she went away to college, she'd clean the house from top to bottom, including mine and Dad's rooms, so that it practically shone in the sunlight. But ever since she left, while Dad and I have managed to fend off the dust bunnies and clothes piles, it has never looked the same as in my memory.

Sighing, I start with a pile of clothes that I haven't touched in years, throwing them into a bag to give away to charity. Then I move onto old makeup that has long since expired and hair products that are pretty much empty. Finally, I pull out some of the boxes from the closet, boxes I haven't opened in what feels like forever, and start to sift through them.

The first few boxes are all of Mom's things that I couldn't bear to look at. Photographs, clothes, her jewelry. It's terrifying to think that one person's life can fit into a few cardboard boxes as if she was barely even here. It's like one moment we're here, with breathing, and the next it's all taken away without any kind of reason or warning.

A tear slips down my cheek for the first time in forever. I'm not usually a crier, in fact, it's something I actively try to avoid, but now I can't seem to stop. I just miss her so much, more than anything in this world, and the thought of her not being here for the big milestones, like college or birthdays or graduation, hurts. Deep down, it's part of the reason I'm so terrified of moving to the mainland. Seeing Lexi and I go off to college was always Mom's dream, and now she's not even here.

With a clear of my throat, I put her boxes back into the closet, closing the lid. The last box to be opened is what I call my Ryan box. It's filled with photographs and memorabilia from our relationship, which I've been trying not to think about since he broke up with me. But staring at these pictures, looking at our smiling faces, I'm reminded of how happy we were together, how simpler things had felt back then.

As much as I've hated him for breaking up with me to travel, I can't deny that he was a good boyfriend to me. He's one of the few people I felt like I could let myself be sad around. He never fed me some cheesy line about my mom's death, like how things will get better in time. In fact, he let me talk about her until I was blue in the face, and then he'd wrap me in his arms and ask all sorts of questions, helping to ease the pain.

There were other things I loved about him, too, like how he'd always send me funny videos he thought would cheer me up. How he'd kiss the stretchmarks on my thighs and make me feel beautiful. I suddenly realize in forcing myself to hate him, I've allowed myself to forget about the good times, the love we'd shared. In a way, that's the saddest part of all.

Without meaning to, I think of Jordan. He's different from Ryan in every way possible, an enigma that I haven't yet figured out. But even though we hardly know each other, I find myself wanting to. Despite the fact it would be a disaster in the making and we're running out of time, a part of me wants to see where this thing leads. If this trip down memory line has taught me anything, it's that life is short, precious, and if everything is about to explode into a fiery trainwreck, I might as well make the most of things now.