Testing The Waters

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cleaning is my therapy.

It's the afternoon after the 4th of July, and I'm currently knee deep in my dad's bedroom closet organizing his ridiculous collection of ties. Why one person needs so many ties, I'll never know, but here I am, organizing them.

I'm also fully aware that this is what rock-bottom looks like.

I pick a tie up and frown at it. It has a picture of a giant hotdog. I have no clue why Dad has such a ridiculous tie, but as I stare at the bizarre material, it makes me think of mean Alex making fun of me in the school cafeteria which subsequently also makes me think of nice Alex. I glare at the offending tie and throw it in the trash pile.

See? Therapy.

The doorbell rings, and releasing a sigh, I leave Dad's tie collection and make my way to the front door, opening it. My face lifts in surprise.

Mrs. Richards eyes me hesitantly. "I'm sorry to just show up uninvited. Alex gave me your address. I hope you don't mind," she says apologetically. 

Just the mention of his name puts my heart in a grip-lock, causing tears to instantly pool in my eyes.

"Oh honey." She takes a tentative step towards me and puts her arms around me.

That's all the encouragement my stupid eyes need to release the floodgates again. At some point, you'd think my body would just cut me off for reaching my max quota of tears in one week, let alone one day.

She releases me, and I let out an embarrassed laugh as I dry off my cheeks with my shirt.

"Can I come in?" she asks, eyeing me in concern... or pity.

"Of course." I open the door for her and look down at my raggedy shirt. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I've been cleaning all day," I say, smoothing back my messy hair.

She waves me off. "You look beautiful. You always do." She looks around. "Is your dad home?"

"No. He's at work."

"Oh, I was hoping to see him. We actually know each. I had no clue you were his daughter until Alex told me."

My brows furrow. "You know my dad?"

She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. "Just briefly."

I want to ask her an assortment of questions, but the visible discomfort on her face stops me. Instead, I lead her into the living room where we both sit down, smiling awkwardly at each other. After a few moments tick by, the silence starts to get to me. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Oh no. I'm fine, thank you," she replies politely.

I nod, and we sit there for another uncomfortable moment before she lets out a shaky laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit nervous." Her face grimaces slightly. "Can we talk about Alex?"

My chest immediately tightens.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I nibble on my lip. I really don't want to talk to her about Alex. I'm sure she knows exactly what transpired last night, and apart from the soul-crushing grief I feel about her son at the moment, I'm also quite mortified by the whole ordeal. 

But she's here, and I don't want to offend her. "No. We can talk about him," I tell her.

She nods tentatively, taking a full breath before releasing it. "Alex and I had a long talk last night." She eyes me carefully. "I can't express how sorry I am... for everything."

Of all the things for her to say, an apology was the last thing I was expecting. If anything, I feel like I should be the one apologizing.

She clears her throat. "As a parent, when Anna was being bullied, I can't explain the amount of anger and protectiveness I felt. When I found out that Alex, my own child, did that to someone else—to you... Babbie, I'm heartbroken. I am so, so sorry you went through that. If I had known, I promise you, I would have stopped it."