Blue Hill, Maine

Chapter 2

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal- Unknown"
~~~
I wasn't an optimistic person. I never looked on the bright side, never saw the good on bad days. If something wasn't good, it meant exactly that. I didn't hope that things would get better, because I knew they wouldn't. Most people would consider that to be a flaw, but I generally never saw it that way. If I didn't get my hopes up, there was no way for me to be disappointed. I was realistic and practical, yet at the same time I knew when to let loose. That was the part my mom liked best about me.

She wasn't the type of person to sit in an office at a computer all day. She liked having fun and the fact that I was willing to do that with her. But she also saw my realism as a hurdle. In other words, that meant she liked taking Evan and I on spontaneous trips all over California in the hopes that she would somehow loosen me up even more. She wanted me to realize that the world wasn't just full of bad things, that there was room for hopes and dreams and a happy future. But because of the accident, she never got the chance to really show me.

I could still remember everything. It was late at night, probably around 10 o'clock. I was at an end of summer beach bonfire with a few people from the swim team and Evan was at home with my grandparents. I hadn't been checking my phone and I couldn't even hear it over the music and laughter of my friends. Turns out I'd missed a call from my mom, which was the worst part. I knew she was driving home late, but she always made sure to call first and she never drove while on the phone. Maybe if I'd answered I'd be back in L.A. with her right now.

The bonfire didn't end until nearly 11 o'clock at night and only then did I check my phone. I'd missed dozens of texts and calls from my grandparents, frantically telling me to get to the hospital as my mom had been in an accident. I could still remember my hands shaking on the wheel as I drove; I was still surprised that I hadn't gotten into an accident myself.

The first person I saw when I walked into the emergency room was Evan. He was sitting on a chair, video game in his hands, believing that our mother was okay because of course she was okay. Nobody had told him otherwise; just that there was an accident and the other doctors were working on her. But I knew that wasn't true. If it was, my grandparents would have been out here with Evan since no family members were allowed in the operating rooms.

I lost it when I saw the covered body being wheeled out of a room down the hall.

Evan was confused, understandably. No doctor had told us that she'd died, my grandparents hadn't come out, and he hadn't seen the body. But I knew. Whoever had covered the body hadn't done a very good job, since the first thing I saw was the bracelet on her wrist. It matched my heart locket, just like my mother's bracelet did.

Doctors came out moments later with my grandparents, grim looks on all of their faces. Evan started crying as soon as they walked up, crumpling to the floor beside me. I heard bits and pieces of what they were saying, words like drunk driver, lost control and no way to save her.

My grandma drove Evan and I home while my grandpa stayed behind to sort out things with the hospital. I didn't know how my grandmother managed to stay calm in front of Evan and I, but she did. None of us could sleep that night, so we all piled into my grandparents bed. I remembered grandma singing a lullaby to us, one that my mother liked to sing whenever Evan and I had trouble falling asleep. I would have thought that that would bother me, but in the moment my grandmother sounded exactly like my mom.

My grandfather took care of everything from the hospital. Deciding whether or not he wanted to press charges on the drunk driver, setting a date for the funeral, even calling my father. I remembered him coming home at six in the morning, sad, but too exhausted to cry. I'd overheard him talking to grandma while they thought that I was asleep.

When he called my father, he hadn't been able to tell if dad was upset because mom died or because he had to drive from Maine to California. Clearly, he wasn't upset enough to come to the funeral since he arrived the day after.

The funeral was held almost a week after the accident. My mother had written in her will that she wanted to be cremated; according to grandma, my mother had said she didn't want to rot underground which was exactly something that she would say. It was a simple funeral and my grandparents kept the urn at their house. Some of my friends in L.A. had been at the funeral, but I couldn't bear to tell them that I'd be leaving in two days. I couldn't even bear to think of it myself.

When dad came the next day, it was awkward. He didn't bother to hug Evan and I, not even my grandmother. He still hadn't hugged us. The funeral was still fresh in all of our minds, but he wanted to leave as fast as he possibly could. I couldn't help but wonder why my mother had ever loved him, why I'd ever loved him.

He didn't care about Evan and I. Although I hadn't known before that he would take care of us if something happened to mom, I'd known that he had visiting rights. Of course mom wouldn't have wanted him to visit, but the father that I used to know would have came anyways.

The first year away from him I was sad. Growing up, he had been my hero, just like how any other girl saw her father. I knew that Maine was a long ways away from California, but I still expected him to visit. I expected him to send a letter once a month. I expected a card and a present for my birthday. But none of them came. He never sent anything, and my faith in him quickly faded to nothing. He'd let us down, and from that point I decided I never wanted to see him again.

I wanted to believe what my mother tried to teach me. I wanted to believe that the world was a happy place, where good things happened to good people. I wanted to believe that there was a world where a father would remember to send his kids a birthday card. But the minute that I started to think that the world wasn't so bad after all, my mother was killed by a drunk driver. How would I ever be able to believe in good things again without her by my side?
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So I finished this chapter way earlier than I was expecting to, but I hope it was a nice surprise! Hopefully you enjoyed a little more background on Emma and the the events that lead up to chapter 1. Please comment and vote, I would love to hear what you guys think! xoxo