Day Six
On the sixth morning, I made a mistake.
While standing in the kitchen, I called a shoe store.
“Size eight, ivory, low heel,” I said into the phone. “For prom, yes.”
When I turned around, Hazel stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Hazel—”
“I told you to stop.” Her voice broke. “I told you. Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Baby—”
“You keep trying to drag me back to who I was. She’s gone, Mom. She died when Mason died. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because I love who you are now too,” I said, my voice shaking. “I love you in this kitchen. I love you in that hoodie. I just want you to have one night.”
“For who?” she shouted. “For you? For him?”
She slammed her bedroom door so hard that picture frames rattled.
I stood frozen with the phone still in my hand.
For a moment, I nearly called Eli. Nearly told him to stop. To put down the needle. To save his hands.
Instead, I walked to his house.
