The In Between

Chapter 44

Tara

When you're dumped by your boyfriend, you're supposed to eat ice cream and watch rom-coms and sing along to sad songs. But when you're dumped by your dead boyfriend, is the protocol different? 

It's not like I have to worry about seeing him again at school—or seeing him again, ever. And I don't have to worry about him dating other people; although maybe since he's stopped haunting me he'll go haunt Amanda. I don't really know how it works. All I know is that I'm mourning Justin Westcroft all over again.

I roll over onto my side and curl into a ball, my fingers clenched so tightly that my knuckles turn white. My eyes ache from sobbing and lack of sleep, but whenever I close them all I can see is Justin's hard, impassive face telling me goodbye, telling me it's over, telling me that we need to forget each other.

I thrash in my bed, tangled in sheets.  

It's morning. My bedroom door swings open and my mom hurries in. She stops when she sees me.

"Tara, are you okay?"  

I turn my back to her so she won't see my red, swollen eyes. The only thing I want is to be left alone.

"What is it, sweetie?" my mom asks.

I want to make a fort out of my blankets like I did when I was a kid.       

"Tara," she repeats.

I force myself to answer. "I'm fine. I turned the wrong way and I banged my rib. It's no big deal."

"I'm calling Dr. Gerard. I think we should go in and have it checked before your appointment next week."

"I'm fine, Mom," I insist.

She makes no sign of moving. The only hope I have is to prove to her something that is still isn't true: that I am a functioning human being. I'm not, of course.

"How can you stand it, Mom? Him even being in the same city?" I say without moving.

"Oh, baby," she says, taking a seat next to me. I keep my back turned away from her, still curled up in a ball. "I should have known that was what's bothering you," she mutters.

I shrug, letting her believe what she wants. I mean, I guess it was bothering me. It's crazy. Unfortunately, my estranged father making a surprise appearance for the first time in nine years is like a drop in the emotional bucket of my life right now.

She puts her hand on my back, rubbing it contemplatively in tiny circles. "On the one hand, it's like finally breaking up with the world's worst boyfriend. You want him gone, you never want to see him again. But the mother in me just wants him to come back and try and make up for everything, for you guys..." she trails off, sighing a little. "I want him here every weekend. I want him picking you up and telling you a lifetime of bedtime stories, kissing bruised knees, and helping you with math homework. If there is any way him being here helps you and Meg—any small way—then I'm glad of it," she says finally. She looks at me, studying my face for some kind of reaction. "If this is too much for you, I'll tell him to leave. Just say the word," she adds.

I don't say anything. It would kill Meg.

"I need to get dressed," I say instead. 

"Isn't Luke picking you up?" 

Oh God, Luke. Amanda's photos of the two of us. And we have grief group. What if he decides to air his feelings about that?

"I guess."