Flavors of Love | COMPLETE

Chapter 28

Despite my lack of sleep, I wake up Monday morning at the exact time my alarm would have gone off.

My eyes hurt, and I feel nauseous, but the idea of staying in bed any longer when there might be news about mom is unbearable.

I clamber out of bed, but I don't get far. Andrew is sitting at our desk with his head in his hands. I come up behind him and let a gentle hand rest on his back.

"Any news?" My voice comes out scratchy.

"No." He sounds miserable.

"What do we do?"

"I'unno." He shoves back from the desk and stands. "Go to school, I guess. I don't want to sit alone in the empty house all day."

"What if the police call?"

"I'll text you."

I sit down heavily on the bed. I'm exhausted-- I'm pretty sure I was crying in my sleep-- and my stomach is twisting itself into a miserable pretzel. "What if this is for real, Andrew?"

"I don't know. I don't want to think about it. I'm going to school."

"Okay. I'll come too."

"Okay."

I feel so horrible that instead of sitting with my friends, I curl up in a bathroom stall and just try not to completely fall apart until school starts. I don't remember about Owen until I walk into English and see him and my empty chair, and the realization rings my body like a gong-- I'm going to have to sit next to him. And he's probably going to make it weird, considering that our breakup is probably still at the top of his list of problems.

I slide into my seat, holding my breath and not looking at him. He has the good sense not to start a conversation, and any time his gaze passes near me, it skips over the place where I sit. Bad, but could be worse. I successfully avoid him for the rest of the day, and dodge awkward questions from my friends by telling them I'm still bummed out about Owen.

The day is, unsurprisingly, terrible. Any time I get a text, my heart kicks against my ribs, but it's never Andrew. Never the bad news.

I can't muster any energy to put into my schoolwork, and the homework that piles up in my backpack feels like a deadweight. Work. To do at home. I wonder if I can tell my teachers I have a concussion or something to get out of doing it. Somehow, telling the truth hurts too bad.

By the time we're driving home again, I'm so drained, I just want to collapse into my bed, but then I would have to be alone with my thoughts. Ugh.

Waiting on our porch for us is a surprise. The first pleasant thing all day. Sam, home from his honeymoon, and Lia. They're talking and laughing, and on her lap is a little puppy with curly black fur.

"Hi!" Sam rises and crosses the yard to me as I get out of the car and lug my backpack over my shoulder. "I hope this isn't a bad time. Lia and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought it would be a good time to drop by... She won't be staying. She just has to run some errands."

"No, this is perfect." The heaviness in my chest lifts a little. Their dog, excited by the commotion of me and Andrew's arrival, is yapping and leaping around my feet. I scratch him behind the ears. "Who's this little guy?"

"His name is Uncle. He was a wedding gift." Sam leans against our porch railing and grins. "Don't worry, he's potty trained and everything."

"Hi, Uncle." I let him sniff me, investigating, then Andrew, who can't help but smile.

"You two look exhausted. Come inside. I'll fix you something to eat," says Sam.

"Oh, you don't have to do that for us," says Andrew.

"I love cooking. It'll be my pleasure."

Soon, after Lia leaves, taking Uncle with her, the three of us are enjoying his meal together like some weird, young family. It's somehow comforting to have him with us. He coaxes me through my homework, and when I have a breakdown at bedtime and begin to cry, he doesn't judge or say anything mean as Andrew calms me down. It's a disappointment when he leaves, but he promises to come again tomorrow, maybe in the afternoon, to tend to the house.

Then there's another hollow night, with little sleep for me or Andrew, and another day of misery, only I'm beginning to get used to it.

We listen to music on the drive home, because I'm so fragile just silence is nearly enough to break me. At the house, Sam's car is in our driveway.

"Hey," he says tentatively when we come in the door, and his expression alone makes me feel like a violent storm has just blown in inside of me to bits. "They called today."

"The police?" I whisper.

He nods. His face is pale. "I didn't want to tell you while you were at school. I'm sorry." He swallows. "They found her car."

"Her car?" I repeat. "Where?"

"At the bottom of a river. She... she wasn't in it, but... it doesn't look good. I'm sorry."

I let out a cry, and the floodgates break loose, and I'm crying, loud messy tears. I can't stop the onslaught. Andrew wraps his arms around me from behind. I'm sobbing and wailing and losing my mind.

"Should we call Dad?" asks Andrew in a hushed voice.

"She wasn't pronounced dead yet," says Sam quietly. "There was no sign of her body. I would wait."

"Okay," I sob, "Okay."

Sam leaves soon after-- I can tell it's uncomfortable for him, intruding on our grief like that. Without him, the house feels hollow. Like a husk of a home. Me and Andrew are alone.

He doesn't cry. His face is pale and stony. I cry enough for the both of us.

At ten o'clock, I go to bed. He stays up, sitting by the phone in the darkness.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I come jolting awake from a comfortable rest to Andrew slamming the door open and crashing into our room, sobbing and shouting in the middle of the night. I shriek in panic, fumbling backwards against the wall, and for a moment, I don't understand.

Then it hits me. He's screaming.

My world comes crashing down, wave after wave after wave.

But then my brain catches up, and I hear what he's yelling.

"They found her! They found her! Claire, wake up! They found Mom!" He's jumping and laughing and shouting and sobbing, and then I'm crying too, and hugging him, and for a minute, we're both crying too hard to talk.

"She's okay?" I ask. "Mom's okay?"

"Yes!" He hugs me. "They found her, Claire, they found her!"

Love is complicated. At least, that's what everyone says. For a while, I was afraid of love. I didn't understand it. I wanted someone new, something I didn't already have. I looked in all the wrong places. I didn't find it.

But for a while, while me and Andrew laugh and jump and cry, I realize that our own special kind of love is turning out to be just fine after all.

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