Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,8

was a terrible mother when Savi was a baby.” Her cheeks flush from the admission. Inwardly, Crystal cringes thinking about Savi as an infant. She suffered from postpartum depression and didn’t feel attached to Savi the way a mother should. Looking back, she still marvels that she got through it in one piece. It’s why she never wants to hold her friends’ babies or talk much about them. She’s not good with babies. Once Savi could walk and talk though, she knew just what to do.

To her surprise, Rebecca laughs. “You mean, you didn’t enjoy sleep deprivation, leaky boobs, and being hormonal? What’s wrong with you?”

Crystal laughs too. That’s why no one else gets her. They can’t possibly understand how two women who’ve lost so much can sit here, making jokes. Everyone thinks it’s their obligation to help her heal instead of just being her friend. But she still wants to smile. She still wants to laugh. And she can do those things with Bec. “Well, I literally can’t admit that to anyone but you. I feel like it automatically shoves me into the bad mom group.”

“Oh, please.” Rebecca waves one thin wrist in the air. “Savi is well-behaved, kind, and an absolute musical prodigy. You did something right.”

“Don’t forget about her budding magician skills.” Crystal rolls her eyes.

Rebecca laughs. “She’ll outgrow that.”

“Here’s hoping,” Crystal says. Savi’s musical talent definitely didn’t come from her or Paul. Paul. His name cracks through her chest. Savi loves playing cello more than she loves playing outside or trying to make friends. It’s become her entire world, and she’s so thankful Bec can give her lessons.

“I’ve got big plans for her,” Bec says. “So get ready.”

Crystal smiles and pays their check. “Cool if I come over in a bit to go over the kitchen designs?” Though Crystal hasn’t been in Elmhurst a long time, she’s already booked several interior design jobs, and Bec’s is one of them.

“Of course.” Bec fingers her watch and then downs the last of her coffee. “Want to say an hour or so? It will give me time to put him down for a nap.”

“Sure.”

Outside, they go their separate ways. Crystal refrains from asking Bec if she wants her to walk her home. Bec knows these streets better than she does, and Crystal’s learned it’s a source of pride to be able to navigate on her own.

Rather than go home, Crystal decides to take a walk. Savi is at the library with Pam, and all of her design plans are already in her car, which is parked a block over. She takes her time downtown, waving at moms and shop owners.

When she and Paul were looking to move from Chicago, he’d immediately set his sights on Elmhurst. Once she’d glimpsed prices, she’d told him no way, but he’d made it work. He always made it work. They’d only moved in a few weeks before he died. He’d never even gotten to enjoy the house.

Crystal mulls over what they discussed in group today—emotional wounds. They had to write them down, put them in a hat, and draw one to discuss. What was Crystal’s emotional wound?

What wasn’t?

She takes a right behind a row of buildings and steps toward a clearing. There’s a bench and a few skateboarders and dog walkers. She sits and tips her face up to the sun. There’s so little time to process these days. Even though it’s summer and Savi hasn’t started her new school, Crystal’s been trying to get the house in order, set up enough jobs to cover their mortgage, foster her friendship with Bec, attend counseling with Dr. Gibbons, go to grief group, and deal with her demons … but it’s all so much. At the end of every day, she’s so exhausted, she can’t even think straight. She has too much to do at home, but she never wants to be there. Home reminds her of Paul. Home reminds her of …

She slaps her thighs and stands, picking up the pace as she loops around the park. A few cyclists shout “on your left,” and she hugs the corner of the path. Why did she pick Rebecca to be her friend? Most people would say grief, but she wonders if it’s because Bec can’t really see who she is.

Crystal can hide and Bec will accept her anyway. She pumps her fists and grinds her teeth, a terrible habit that’s given her TMJ. She makes a few more loops and then checks the time. It’s