"Mommy, look, over here!"
"What did you find, Will?"
"A dandelion!"
"Are you gonna blow it?"
"Blow it with me, Mom."
"Hey, what are you guys doing out here?"
"Daddy, come blow the dandelion with us!"
"Ok, Will!"
Will.
Will.
Will.
Will. Oh my God, Will. How the hell am I supposed to tell Will? How is a 13 year old boy going to deal with his mother's death? I swallow hard but when I do I feel like someone sticks a knife down my throat. I stagger over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. Before I close the door, I see a ring on the clear platform where the beer Ryder took was sitting only hours ago. Where the hell is he?
I chug the water in a matter of seconds and am able to swallow without pain. I stroll over to the fire place and on the mantle is a picture of me, Ryder, and Will minutes after I gave birth. I was 18 then. 18 and confused. Ryder and I were engaged but one big fight when Will was 4 months old broke us up. We sent him back and forth between our houses until we finally made up three years later and wed. I study the picture for any kind of pain in my face, then in Ryder's face, but there is none. Pure joy. But when I look in the mirror at my face there's a completely different woman standing there. Her hair is tangled and her eyes are red with tears. I turn from my miserable reflection when the door clicks. Ryder? My heart fills with the hope that he'll walk in and apologize for what he said. But when the person at the door walks through, I'm filled with a different emotion.
"Hey, Mom!" Will walks in with his backpack slung over his shoulder. My mouth is suddenly dry again, so I just force a smile and wave. He sets his bag down on the kitchen table and throws his coat on the couch. I try to tell him to hang his coat up on the rack, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. Will notices my hanging jaw and raises an eyebrow. "Mom, are you alright?" he asks cautiously. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I should wait until Ryder gets back to tell him. "I-I'm fine. Just...please hang your coat up. I don't know how many times I've told you." He shrugs his shoulders and does as I ask. "Are you sure that's it?"
"Yes, William, I'm fine! Please, just stop bugging me!" I scream. I instantly regret raising my voice, which I hardly do, and cover my mouth. Hurt clouds the boy's eyes and he stomps in to his room. "Will, wait!" His door slams shut. The pounding in my head I was able to ignore for a while comes back slowly and I run in to my own room. I try to step over the shattered glass from the snow globe, but it's too difficult to see. I curse out loud until I finally reach my bed. Is this my life now? Is this Will's life now? I burry my face in the pillow and, although I thought all my tears were gone, cry.
