-- THIRD BOOK IN THE WRONG NUMBER SERIES --
"Hey Valerie, it's just me checking in, I want to know how have you been, Chris keeps telling me you're fine, I just need to hear it from you, you can't just ghost me like this, we had it all planned out...
Heeey first of all, I'm really sorry I should've updated ages ago, I have no excuse, I've been busy and lazy, soooorry
Secondly, I'm sorry if there are typos or spelling mistakes, this was not checked before I posted because I really wanted to update asap.
Thirdly, happy birthday to my baby Noah, i really wish you could read this my noodle head (remember how many times I said we have the same birthday? Hahaha I literally could not forget his bday even if I wanted to) happy birthday to Valerie too, I guess 😂
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Valerie :
“MA! No quiero tomar eso!!” (mom! don't want to drink that) the green juice in front of me looks disgusting. I don't even know what is made of but if anyone could make me drink it it'd be my mother.
“Ese jugo tiene todas las vitaminas que no te tomaste estos días, mira lo flaca que estaas!! ” (that juice has all the vitamins you haven't drink in all these days, look how skinny you are! ) I rolled my eyes, but she was holding the juice in front of my face, while her other hand is pinching me, softly but still threatening me to pinch much harder if I don't drink her damn juice.
I take one big gulp and I feel it nearly coming back. When my gag reflexes make the sound my mom glares at me holding her index finger up. I'm too scared and I just swallow it again and take a deep breath. I bet she would've made me drink that for the baby of I had been here when I was pregnant.
I sigh. Why does my mind always seem to come back to the same thing? I miss Stacy's room, I want to hold one of her stuffed animals and cry myself to sleep, but I don't get to do that here, my mom would've kill me. She is all about moving on and accepting God's will. She says he must've taken Stacy for a reason.
I really wish it is that way. I am not a religious person myself, but if my baby is going to be somewhere other than my hands, I really hope she is in some sort of heaven, instead of believing her soul died and everything left of her is in a little coffin I'm the cemetery I never went to.
The few tears I shed where masked by the tears I let out when drinking that hideous juice and coughing in disgust.
My sister Andrea has been nothing but sweet. She ran to the craft store and got me paint and canvases just for me to paint when I mentioned that would help me ease my stress.
I'm numbly watching TV with my arm around Jason, he's cuddled up into me while he watch a superhero movie, he swears I'm watching it, my eyes are open and I nod like a robot everytime he asks me something. But I'm not really watching. All I see is him.
He consumes my mind. More than i thought it should. Having him come every night sort of made me only focus on Stacy. But now he's not here, I miss him to no end. But I can't come back now. I have so much to work on.
I hope my mom's though way to handle my loss really helps me move on from this. Since Noah's gentle way didn't. I'm grateful he tried to be understanding, he is too sweet to be bosy and force me to tough it up and get better. My mother's approach better work.
I feel sleepy all day, I try to take as many naps as possible but my mom drags me down to the garden or grocery shopping whenever she realizes I've been hiding from her for over 2 hours. It really annoys me but I can't say I won't go, she’d literary grab me out of the house by the ears.
I seat in my bed with my canvas in front of me. I bite my lip thinking about the painting in front of me. I just let myself go with the flow and paint whatever came to my mind it was cathartic, but now I can't decide whether or not I liked it.
I turned to my right when I hear the door being knocked. I sighed and told them to come in.
“hermanita, do you mind if I grab your…” Andrea stops on her tracks as she sees the painting. “that is…” she purses her lips in thought.
“interesting? Cool?” I try to guess the words, but I know that they aren't those. Now that I see it, i want to throw it away imidiately. I hadn't paint in a long while and this is the first thing I do.
“it is… terrifying… “ she sighs and sits on the bed next to me. “is that really how you feel, sis?” she says holding my hand. I'm sitting on the bed too, and I bite my lip frowning.
“no… “ I reply, she smiles a little thinking I don't feel that sad. My painting is really dark, it has harsh stokes everywhere showing how angry I feel. I don't even know exactly what I feel but that painting does not represent that “that's not how I feel.. I.. I feel worse.” I confess, her relieved face was now cool of concern
“do you… want to talk about it?” she asked carefully, I know I tend to storm out when they bring Stacy up. That's why she is so careful.
“is there really anything to talk about?” I say sharply. Her eyes widen a little but I want to make my point on why I don't want to talk about it “it happened. She's dead, there's no way of bringing her back, I'm stuck, there's no way for me to feel better” I blurt out in my little angry spree. She looks at me sad
“don't say that, I.. I know she's not coming back but.. But you have other things in your life to be happy for…“ I rolled my eyes and shook my head, I had nothing, nothing.
“yeah? Like what? All I have is a broken heart and an empty womb” I tell her angrily for pushing the subject she sighs and tries to hold my hand again
“you have us, Chris, a successful art gallery in New York.. And most importantly.. You have Noah.. “
“I lost Noah, he must hate me” I say frowning while I fidget with my fingers in my lap. I haven't gotten a call from him, I turned off my phone and asked Chris to take it away from me.
“ he doesn't, he calls everyday asking for you” Andrea looks at me and I can't help but feel a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and the thought of him worrying about me. But then I felt sad and angry, me comming here was supposed to help him move on and be happy. Not stay worried about me and calling my sister.
“can you ask him to not call anymore?” I whisper. She widens her eyes and looks at me dispprovingly. I hate that look on her.
“I'm not gonna do that, he's sweet and he's worried about you” she says annoyed and I stand up from the bed heading to the desk to grab a brush and keep painting.
“please close your door on your way out…” I dismiss her, I'm so done talking about all this. I have been doing relatively fine these days and she has to ruin it. I want to cry but I don't want her to see me. I feel a knot on my throat growing every second.
“we're not done talking about this.” she says and I don't know what her face is, I'm giving her my back as I press the brush into the canvas and make a random stroke.
“I am.” I simply say, trying to sound as emotionless as possible, but knowing inside of me that I could break down in any second. She can't see me like this.
She sighs and stands up, walking to me and hugging me from the back. I stay motionless not wanting to hug her back but not wanting to reject her. She takes a deep breath before heading outside my room.
I turned around to look at the painting... What is wrong with me?
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