Gambling Love

19. Jaiden

"Jaiden!" I hear a soft yell.

"Living room!" I call out. Packing up your childhood home needs to be talked about more because this shit is depressing. I look up as Imogen walks in with a brown take-out bag, she looks around. "Progress right?" I ask taping up a box in front of me.

"It looks bigger when it's empty, are those the last of them?" She asks sitting down across from me.

"Yeah, the only thing left is my bed upstairs but," I shrug. I watch her as she takes it all in. "What is it, sweetheart?" I ask.

"It must be hard isn't it?" She asks.

"It's shitty yeah. Sucks having to see which things are worth keeping and which aren't, also sucks seeing pictures," I sigh. "I found some of my old practice books my grandma gave me for when I was learning French," I wiggle a brow and she laughs.

"How are you actually doing?" She asks me tilting her head.

"I'm okay," I sigh. "I mean I don't really know how to feel so I guess I'm just okay?"

"Have you thought about seeing someone in Chicago?" She asks in a hopeful tone as she opens the take-out bag.

"Like a shrink?" I ask and she rolls her eyes. "For your sake, yes I have," I tell her. "I've also been thinking about gambling," I sigh. Her hands stop moving and she watches me. "I've sat outside the casino a few times, walked in a couple of times too but I never played," I tell her and she nods. "I don't want to rely on a stack of cards that are seriously run down you know?" She nods again.

"Your brain is probably so messed up," she shakes her head pulling out a Chipotle burrito for me and I smile. She always thanks me for remembering the little stuff but she does the exact same in return. We never grew up with big gestures or grand things so little things are our specialty.

"Definitely," I nod.

"So who's going to come and take your bed?" She asks opening her chipotle bowl.

"I don't know, I have some guys coming to take it out. Still got sheets on it though, thought I'd spend the night here one last time."

"Jaiden that's so sad," She pouts and I chuckle.

"You can always stay with me?" I suggest.

"Sleep here with you? In your childhood home?" She almost grimaces.

"Oh come on, I need at least one good memory in this house," I tell her and she laughs. I'm going to miss her laugh when I'm in Chicago, I'm going to miss everything about her.

"You really want me to stay?" She asks.

"Only if you want," I shrug, hoping she does want to stay.

"I guess it won't hurt to give you a few good memories in this house," She agrees. I have a lot of good memories in this house, despite finding both of my parents died in this house. All my childhood birthdays were mom tried to make a cake but it always failed, Grandpa playing toy trucks with me, and Grandma dancing me around the kitchen. I just want the last memory I have in this house to be with Imogen.

Imogen distracts me as we eat, she's talking to me about her studying and the local gossip at the diner from their regulars. We finish packing the rest of the house and my heart feels heavy as I sweep through every room to make sure I hadn't forgotten any, I stop in front of mom's room, my hand curling around the doorknob. I can remember Mom and Dad swaying to nonexistent music when I was a kid and then I remember all the guy's mom brought home and have had in this room.

I must seem like a jerk to feel hatred toward my dead mother, she was a mess after dad died and it may not have all been heartache but she didn't know how to help herself and I don't want to go down that road, I don't want to become them.