• • •

"your love-

wild

and warm like summer."

• • •

My body is fighting the urge to fall asleep while I type out the final page of my essay. I know I shouldn't have put off doing it, especially since it's due at midnight, but when have I ever made good decisions. At least it's only half past 7, I could've waited until 10 minutes before it was due. As I write about the plight of women in old Hollywood, trying to keep my eyes open, I hear my mom calling my name from downstairs.

Without responding I head down the carpeted stairs in my fuzzy yellow socks. My mom sits on the couch, her elbows on her knees, with her phone in hand. There is a paper on the coffee table and when I get closer I see tears falling down her face. A half drunk bottle of wine serves as decoration next to an empty wine glass and I sit next to her on the couch, immediately concerned.

"What is it?" I hesitantly ask, I've grown an irrational fear of bad news with all that's occured in my life. It sounds stupid but whenever I even think I'm about to be given bad news I feel like I have to throw up, I get cold sweats, my heart aches. I grab her free hand, interlocking our fingers.

It takes her a moment to start speaking, the only sound in our house being the rain lightly hitting our roof. "Honey, the man that um, the man that killed your father is up for parole in a few months. They're obligated by law to tell us when.....and so I guess since it's almost been 15 years he's finally eligible. I'm gonna go call you grandma to see if she's been told but if you need to talk to me I'm here." She speaks slowly, as if there is a knife in her that's turning with every word she speaks.

The emptiness behind her eyes is one that is too familiar, one that will haunt me forever. As if she's already too cried out about this, the pain in her voice travels directly from my ears to my heart. My throat begins to feel sore, like it's anticipating the crying I'll probably be doing all night. I feel a tear fall down my cheek, here we go.

I don't have anything to say, my mind is so jumbled I can't even find words to express my feelings. "What does it mean for us? Do we have to do anything? Do you want to do anything?"

"We might have to speak at his parole hearing, maybe not. I don't know. I have a few people to call." My mom's voice has no emotion behind it yet it's so emotional. She smiles and hugs me, she's checking out. I can tell.

I hold the pendant from my father in my hand as it hangs from my neck. The warm tears seem to be coming faster now, I didn't even notice my mother leave the room. I stand from the couch, walking back up to my room. I put my rain boots on, not even changing my shorts to pants but my hoodie should compensate for warmth. It's like my body is directing my mind and not vice versa. I'm not even really thinking about my actions just going along with my feelings.

I grab my keys and phone, heading downstairs. I go into my mother's room after knocking a few times. She sits on her bed staring ahead as if something is playing on her tv even though it's not on. Her phone is to her ear.

"I'll be back." I inform her. She doesn't say anything or even look over at me, she just nods her head absent mindedly.

• • •

Jacob lets me into his dark apartment, his basketball shorts hang loosely on his waist. His hair is wet, making it appear jet black as opposed to its usual brown color. Once he can finally see my face in his brightly lit room, it's clear I've been crying. He sits me down on the bed and puts both his hands on my shoulders.

"You don't need me to hurt someone, do you?" He asks sternly.

Actually.

"No." I shake my head, ignoring all the violent thoughts I'm having. I kick my shoes off and lay down in his bed, under the covers.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He gets under the covers, pulling my back against his chest. He holds my hand in his.

"Yes." I whisper, desperate to get my emotions out.

"What happened." He pulls me in tighter.

"The man that killed my dad is up for parole in a few months. I don't know what that means for us, and my mom isn't giving me a clear answer. I don't expect her to but, I don't know." I feel the tears coming down my face again, I let them fall freely.

"I'm sorry Daisy," He kisses the top of my head, "You never told me what happened to your dad, you don't have to. I know it's a sensitive-"

"I'll tell you." I cut him off.

"You don't have to."

"What do you wanna know?" I turn around so that now we're laying face to face.

"Just what happened, I guess." He asks as if his words might break me in half, I can tell he's trying to be supportive.

"Well, my dad was in graduate school. To be a genetic counselor, I still barely know what that means." I chuckle, thinking back to a video of my younger self. Where my parents caught my reaction to them trying to explain to me what that meant.

"He had to take night classes because he worked during the day. They had me while they were in college and my mom dropped out but according to her she threatened him, told him he better not let his mind go to waste. He worked during the day, went to school at night and was usually back before I went to bed."

"I remember that, he used to read to me every night. I waited for it." My throat starts to feel like I've swallowed a rock. "Well one night it was storming and my mom was trying to put me to bed, but I didn't want to cause he hadn't come back yet. I apparently would refuse to sleep unless he read me a story." I laugh at the stress I probably used to put on my mom.

"It got later and later and my mom told me I had no choice, he could read me a story tomorrow night. Then the phone rang," I take a deep breath, ignoring the tears that are making the pillow wet, "I remember us rushing to the hospital. Then sitting in the waiting room, she wouldn't stop shaking and I didn't know why. After sitting in there for forever, which probably wasn't even that long, someone pulled us into a room. I didn't hear what the doctor said 'cause he whispered it to my mom. Then she screamed, it was so loud it scared me. Then fell on the floor like she got stabbed or something."

I feel Jacob's thumb wiping the tears off my face. He's so sweet when he wants to be.

"Car accident. The guy was high on something, I don't even remember. His blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit. I didn't know what any of that meant when I was younger though. I just knew that they told me he wasn't going to read me my stories anymore." My voice begins to tremble.

"The years after that were the worst. We had to move in with my grandparents, I didn't see my mom that often. My mom lost her job, and then had to deal with the fact that she was now a single mom. She stayed in her room, in her bed. Sometimes crying, sometimes just staring out into nothing. I kept asking my grandpa why she didn't want to hang out with me but my little brain couldn't understand even when he tried to explain."

I'm probably full on sobbing now and don't even realize it.

"She kind of got better after the sentencing, but not really. She still didn't leave her room. The worst part was when I could tell she was making an effort but there was just this emptiness in her eyes. I can never get that out of my head no matter how much I try to forget about it, that's what I saw tonight. I just don't think I could mentally deal with that right now. Not again."

If I wasn't sobbing before, I am now. So much that it prevents me from speaking. He pulls me tightly into him, rubbing my back. It's soothing.

"Maybe you shouldn't keep talking about it." He suggests.

"No it's fine," I pull away slowly, "after that it got better. My grandparents made her go see someone, She was in better spirits, she wanted to get all the things that he wanted for us. It was a good way for us to work towards things without pretending like everything was okay and we could just move on like nothing happened. I feel like everything good we do is in his memory, he'd want it like this."

"Maybe you should go be with her tonight, I think you both need it." He suggests.

"You're right.Thank you for this." I kiss him on the lips and grab my things. "Love you." I leave without realizing the weight of what I just said, I'm too distracted.

When I get home most of the lights are off, except for the light in my mom's room. I walk in and find her laying in bed. I get into someone else's bed or the second time tonight and she looks over at me as I do so. She's clearly been crying but is trying to hold it together.

"Hey baby."

"How are you doing?" I ask her.

"Thinking. About your dad." She answers honestly.

"I wish I got to know him more." I say in a somber tone.

"Oh baby, if you wanna get to know him just look inside yourself. You couldn't be more like him if you tried. Trust me, he's in there." She laughs.

"Are you gonna be ok? Like okay? Do I need to call grandma?"

"Daisy, I'm not there anymore. It's hard, but... I'm better. Don't be worried about me getting like that again. And if I do please call them. We'll get through this how we always do, together."

She hugs me tightly. We're in this, together, this time.

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