Kelsy and Erik's parents were made for each other, a true love story. Unfortunately, so were Kelsy and Erik.
When Kelsy's mom marries Erik's dad, the smitten teen has to accept that her mom's new relationship makes Erik off limits. So she settles fo...
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Kelsy's (POV)
It was proving too much for me to handle alone. Last week my parents were helping me plan my wedding, this week I was planning their funeral. The process itself was stressful enough and not unlike the wedding planning: find a venue, find a minister, find a caterer, order flowers, but piled on top of everything else and I was about to have a break down.
I wish Richard was here. He's so good at keeping his calm and getting everything organized. But Richard was at the capital again. He's so busy with his campaign program and trying to gain a footing at the next level I barely see him.
And Erik...
Well. Erik hasn't been home in years. When I tried calling the last phone number I had for him, I got a nice old lady who kept calling me "dearie" but insisted it had been her number for at least 2 years. Of course, I also had to sit politely through her explanation of how her oldest son had bought the cell phone for her and how she wasn't exactly sure how it worked.
I sent a few emails to the last address I had listed for him when Mom and Dad were in the accident. I hadn't heard anything back. I don't know if he still uses that account or if he just doesn't check it often...or maybe it was just because of me.
I looked through the pile of paperwork that had been sitting on Mom's desk by her computer. Bills waiting to be paid, a letter from Aunt Dorrie waiting for an old-fashioned reply with pen and paper that will never arrive now, bank statements, catalogs, ads from the local grocery store.
I wish Mom was here. She'd know what to do. I wish Dad was here, he'd be completely useless, but he'd put his hand on my shoulder and give me the encouragement I needed to get through it. I wish anyone was here.
I found them in a drawer of the computer desk, a short stack of postcards all from Erik. Most of them photos of far away places with one line messages about how much he loved Maine or how he couldn't find good Mexican food in Iowa.
I breathed deeply. At least he'd been staying in touch with them, I thought. So that meant it really was just me. Something inside me fell at the realization.
I'd been suspicious of it ever since he left but somehow, sitting there in Mom's little office slash sewing room, looking at the postcards he'd been sending them for the last six years, it really sunk in. It was all too real for me suddenly and a stabbing pain tore through my core as the tears broke loose.
I hadn't done much crying in the few days since Mom and Dad were declared dead. Only 14 hours apart from each other. I'd had just enough time to get used to the idea that Mom was gone, just enough time to build hope that Dad would pull through. And then I got the call from the hospital that Dad was gone too. I wasn't even able to get there in time to say good bye.
Richard had said he'd come home if I needed him to but I knew he needed to stay, so I told him I could handle it myself. Now I wish I had asked him to come home.
