and lets me fall into them. He hugs me tightly, and it’s exactly the type of hug I need.
This is what a true friend does and how a true friend behaves. Jamie is my rock.
“My mom died,” I say, even though he already knows. The saying of it out loud makes it true in a way that not saying it never did. He holds me for the longest time, still standing in his doorway, before he pulls me inside, where his arms go around me like a protective blanket. He doesn’t ask any questions, he just holds me and lets me cry.
We sit on the couch, and I sob because my heart is broken, and because my mom was the only constant in my life. Jamie lets me be, gives me time, lets me get it all out. I cry until I have no more tears and my voice is hoarse.
He asks me if I’ve eaten, if I need a drink of water, or something hot, or alcohol. I shake my head. I haven’t eaten since I left this morning, or was that yesterday morning? This day has stretched out so long, it feels like a week.
He fetches me a glass of water nonetheless, and I gulp it down, then sit back against him, against the couch, not wanting to move, not wanting him to move. I tell him slowly, because he deserves to know, this man who waited up for me until the early hours. I tell him how I saw my mom in the ICU, and how I sat with her for a few hours, and how I fell asleep only to be woken up when the doctors and nurses came running in.
I tell him how when they could do no more, when she had passed, I held her hand, and told her I loved her, and asked her to forgive me for not being there sooner and for not visiting her more often.
“That’s not your fault, Mari,” he says, hugging me to him.
“I could have gone. I could have spent more time with her, instead of wasting it with …” I stop and think. Instead of getting all wrapped up in Ward’s little web.
“It’s easy to have regrets,” he says softly. He’s trying to make me feel better, but I feel wretched. I chose to spend those weekends with Ward, because weekends where the only times he’d take things slower, ease up on the writing, give himself a break. I wasted precious time with my mom, for sexy times with a man who I don’t really know, and a man I now hate.
I think back to our argument. It was only yesterday, and yet it seems like weeks ago. I turn to Jamie. “If he hadn’t smashed my cell phone, the nursing home would have contacted me straightaway. I would have gone to my mom sooner. I could have had more time with her.”
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda, these are words of regret, Mari. Don’t beat yourself up wondering what might have been.” His arm squeezes my shoulder in a reassuring hug. I shift my legs so that I’m sitting on the side with my legs tucked under me, and I’m resting against Jamie’s chest. It feels a little too familiar. I remember doing this with Ward not so long ago.
Jamie kisses the top of my head. He’s the only person that I can rely on and trust. “I have to find a job,” I say, remembering that I have now quit working for Ward.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“I have to sort out the funeral.”
The funeral.
How is it that today I’m talking about funeral arrangements, and yesterday my main worry was reading a few pages from Ward’s manuscript? Life can change in the blink of an eye. So fast, that even now, I feel I’ve got whiplash.
It will be a small affair but arrangements will need to be made.
“You need to sleep first,” Jamie says.” And worry about the other stuff tomorrow. Don’t ever think you’re alone, Mari, because you’re not. I’m here for you.”
Chapter 50
WARD
“It went up in flames,” I tell Rob when he calls to tell me he still hasn't received my manuscript. He is used to this, my timelines slipping, especially when it comes to my first draft. It’s almost like a game but I’ve never said this to him before. There is silence at the other end. I can almost see the dumbfounded look on Rob's face.
“In flames?” His upbeat voice tells me he’s not sure