The Heartbroken - S01 E167

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E167

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 167

At first we ate in silence, but

something about her posture—

rigid and stiff—let me know that

something was up.

Sure enough, just as we began to

clean the table, she stopped and

turned to me completely. “I was

thinking,” she began, her voice

edged with nerves, “of inviting

Norman over for dinner. Would that

be okay with you?”

I blinked as I processed this

information, letting it sink in before

reacting. I cleared my throat and

said, “Okay.”

She visibly sagged in relief, looking

as if the whole exchange had

exhausted her. “Oh, thank

heavens.”

I bit my lower lip. “When? I’ll make

sure to stay out of your way.”

“Oh. No.” The nervous energy was

back again. “I actually—um—I’d

like you to meet him.”

I was just about to (violently)

refuse, almost instinctively, but I

caught myself. I thought back to

the conversation I had with Seth

earlier, about Romeo dying and

Juliet being pathetic, and only then

did it hit me that my mother was

only doing her best to live a life

without Dad.

And now that I thought about it, I

realized I hadn’t been giving her

enough credit.

“You can invite Seth,” she added

hurriedly, “if you want.”

I looked at her and swallowed hard

before saying, “Okay. When is it?”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I haven’t

asked him yet. I wanted to make

sure you were okay with it.”

“Oh.” For a long time, I didn’t think

my opinion would have mattered to

her, and knowing that it did felt

nice. I looked down, trying to blink

back some of the moisture in my

eyes, and said, “Okay.”

She let out a breath. “Thank you.”

I nodded, taking in the grateful

expression on her face, committing

it to memory, before leaving to put

the plates in the dishwasher

I hadn’t seen it before, too blind

with my own rage and anger, but

now the image was crystal clear.

My mom hadn’t given up on living

when her Romeo died. And

perhaps it should be the same for

being dumped.

I was strong enough to live a life

without Cedric. I knew this now. I

may not have moved on completely

yet, but I was getting there, bit by

bit.

All I had to do was tie the loose

ends together; close the door and

find another one. I had to know

why he broke up with me, to

understand what went wrong, so I

could accept the truth that we were

over for good.

The moment I climbed up to my

room, I walked over to the photo of

Cedric and me on the bedside

drawer. I picked the frame up,

trying to remember the way I felt

when it was taken.

I smiled at the memory. It was like I

could still feel the slightly

uncomfortable dress I’d been

wearing. I had been afraid of what

Cedric thought about it, convinced

that I was somehow going to mess

the night up one way or another,

but my worries melted away the

moment he took my hand in his.

Now, I looked at the photo and

tried to remember everything that

had gone right, and even those that

hadn’t.

Then I flipped the frame over.

For a second, my hands refused to

move, but I took a deep breath and

cleared my thoughts.

I slipped the lock off and opened

the back of the frame. With slightly

trembling hands, I finally, finally,

took the picture out.