Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 9

9

MARCH

“ W here is Winnie?” I ask, noticing Genevieve and Eloise standing in the hallway without her.

“Do you not know what day it is?” Eloise counters.

“Am I supposed to?” I look down at the date on my phone and as soon as I see it, my stomach drops. “Holy shit.” How could I have forgotten this? Maybe because I’ve spent the past three years trying to forget, trying to find some way to grieve. God, I feel like an asshole.

March 6th, the anniversary of Winnie’s mom’s death.

“Yeah,” Genevieve sighs. “It’s going to be a rough day.”

“I can’t believe I forgot. My mom was just talking about Susan last night.”

“It’s hard to think about,” Genevieve says. “No one’s blaming you.”

It’s hard to believe it’s been three years since one of the worst days of all our lives.

There’s a part of me that will never forget the feeling of my heart sinking through my stomach when my mom came bursting through the front door, sobbing while she fell to her knees, trying to get out the words as my dad continually asked her what had happened.

Finally, she said the words that would forever change all our lives, “She’s dead. My best friend is dead.”

At that moment, I knew. I knew exactly who had died, and I knew how drastically it would alter all of our lives.

“I need to go to Winnie's house,” I say. I know that she needs someone right now.

“That’s a good idea,” Genevieve replies. “I’m going to get all of her work from her teachers and make sure she doesn’t get too far behind.” She turns to head in the opposite direction, but I catch her arm.

“Gen, you should make sure your mom is okay.” Her mom was close to Susan too, and while she may have barely been back in the country long enough to attend her funeral, she and Susan still grew up together.

“She’s been keeping herself busy all week. I don’t think she really wants to talk about it,” she sighs.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” She looks down at the ground, her hands fiddling with her skirt. “Susan was amazing, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully comprehend the abruptness of her death. Every year, it’s just hard for me to understand, of all people, why her?”

“There is no reason, Gen.” I shut my eyes, letting out a deep breath. “There is absolutely no fucking way to describe why Susan died, and that’s the hardest part.”

U nexpected events have never been a favorite of mine.

I like to be in the know. I don’t like surprises or anything that could throw my plans off balance.

Some people–like Eloise–find comfort in the unknown or the adrenaline that comes with surprises, but not me. It makes me feel uneasy when I don’t know exactly what is happening and when.

And this feeling is no different when it comes to the death of my mom.

Everything about it has been hard, between finding out, watching my dad plan her funeral, and everything in between. But the worst part was how unexpected it was.

My mom didn’t have cancer, she wasn’t terminally ill. She wasn’t reckless either. She didn’t go out of her way to put herself in any type of danger.

Susan Carter was happy and content with life, and just trying to drive home from work when she was hit head-on by a too-tired truck driver.

And just like that, two kids lost their mom, a husband lost his wife, and the world feels a little quieter.

My life has been permanently changed, and there is nothing that can mend that feeling.

“Win?” I hear a knock on my bedroom door. It’s already dark outside and I haven’t even gotten out of bed.

There’s another knock before the door slowly starts opening.

“Logan,” I sigh when I see him. “You didn’t have to come over.”

I have a good feeling that he came over because my dad asked him to, considering how uncomfortable he looks.

“If you don’t want me here, I can leave.” He takes a step into the room. “But I have a feeling that you need someone right now, and I want to be that person.”

Tears are already welling in my eyes as I look at him. “You can come in.”

He sits on the edge of my bed, giving me a closer look at the worried look on his face and the bags under his eyes. I can tell he’s trying not to overstep, but still wants to show he’s here forme.

He’s so sweet, and it only reminds me of all the ways my mom loved Logan and all the reasons she wanted us to end up together.

“My mom has been a wreck,” he admits. “I can’t even imagine how this week has been for you.”

I sniffle, trying my best not to break down in front of him as he stares down at my comforter.

It is no doubt tough for all of my mom’s friends, but Wren was especially close to her. Hell, they built houses next door to each other.

So deep down, I know it’s hard for Logan as well.

“How are you doing?” I ask him, and when he looks up, his eyes are even more bloodshot.

“You cannot seriously be asking me that.” He laughs lightly, almost like he’s trying to hold back tears. “Win, this is your mom we’re talking about.”

“I’m not the only one who loves her.” I watch as a tear tracks down Logan’s face. “Her death is going to affect everyone who knew her.”

“Of course, her death affects me every day.” He pauses, taking a breath. “But I’m here for you , Winnie, not me.”

“I just can’t help but wonder when this is going to get easier for me.” A tear rolls down my face, and Logan takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “I don’t even know what time it is, but I know it’s late enough to make it pathetic that I haven’t gotten out of bed.”

“Win,” Logan sighs, pulling me into his arms. “There’s not a correct timeline for when you have to get over your mom’s death because the truth is, you’re never going to get over it. I don’t think any of us will.”

I hate the thoughts that cross my mind, the ones that think maybe my mom’s death would have been easier if all of my friends weren’t so close to her.

Because yes, they all did their best to be there for me, but instead of having people to lean on, I had friends who were also toppling over because of her loss.

It wasn’t comforting knowing that all the kids I had grown up with were also hurting.

“You want to know what makes me the most upset?” I take a long breath, not wanting to say it out loud. “I’m not sure if I can remember what her voice sounds like.”

Logan looks down, like he’s afraid to admit he doesn’t either.

“I know that everyone says when someone dies, their voice is the first thing you forget, but I didn’t think it would happen this quickly.” My voice cracks as I try to keep my composure, but I’m not sure that’s possible when I see the look on Logan’s face. “I mean, who the hell forgets their own mom’s voice?”

“Winnie.” He tries to catch my attention, but his voice is muffled. The only thing I can hear is the sound of myself hyperventilating.

“I keep trying to remember, hoping that thinking about her will spark the sound to play through my head, but I can’t. I can’t remember, and it’s killing me on the inside.”

“Winnie, Win.” Logan’s grabbing my knees. “You need to calm down.”

“I, I—” I try to say I can’t , but it doesn’t come out.

“You’re okay,” he tells me. “Just try to breathe.”

I close my eyes, gasping for air as sobs rack my body. It almost feels like I’m suffocating, drowning in my own tears.

The thing about grief is that it comes in waves—ones that feel as if they are all different shapes and sizes, coming from different bodies of water—and sometimes they hit all at once, and other times the tide clears and it feels like I’m going to be okay.

My mom dying is never going to go away. The pain is always going to be there, but sometimes, it shows how much I’ve grown. And while I would have liked for my mom to see that, her death has helped prove that good things can come, even after you think your life is over.

Yet, that doesn’t ever take away the visceral ache of wanting her back.

“I wish she was here so bad.” I eventually get the words out. “Fuck.” I may not swear much, but right now, it feels warranted.

“I know, I know,” Logan sighs, one of his hands rubbing up and down my back. “I do, too.” I lean further into him, his arms wrapping me up again.

“Do you think it’s ever going to stop hurting like this?” I ask as he pulls me into him.

His arms curve around my waist to where I’m halfway on his lap, and my head falls to his shoulder. I’m completely limp in his arms, no longer bearing any of my own weight.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispers into my hair. “Maybe not completely. There will always be moments where you’re going to miss her, but hopefully, there will be even more moments where you’re able to look back at all the happy memories you have with her.”

“I’m afraid of forgetting her,” I admit, and his hands sweep up and down my back in a comforting motion.

It’s something I’ve feared since the moment she died three years ago. Throughout her entire funeral, everyone told me she would be with me forever and I would always have the memories of her to keep me company.

Yet every day my memories with her get foggier and foggier, like they are slowly slipping out of my grasp.

“I quiz myself every night before bed, just to make sure I’m not forgetting some of the last moments I had with her. I replay the last conversation we had over and over in my head because I’m so scared.”

“Winnie, all of us absolutely adored your mom, and we all have amazing memories of her.” His hands grab my face. “Do you really think any of us would let you forget what an amazing woman you came from?”

I know there isn’t a world where the presence of my mom could be completely erased, and I’m grateful for Logan’s input, but I’m not sure it helps ease my anxiety any.

“And the great thing about memories is the way the important ones cement themselves into us.” He pulls out his phone, showing me a picture of me, him and my mom at Hagen’s Lake five years ago. It’s set as his homescreen. “Do you remember this day?”

“Of course I do,” I reply, smiling at the memory. “My mom took the two of us to Hagen’s lake all the time when everyone else was busy. She loved going swimming with us.”

“Want to know what I remember about this day?” His smile matches mine. “There were these giant waves, which don’t happen often, and your mom went and bought us those foam surfboards so that we could pretend to ride waves when in reality we were just getting dragged under.”

It's one of my favorite memories with Logan and my mom. It’s clear how much he loved my mom, and now that I know he still cherishes these types of memories in the way I do, I have a little more understanding of how hard it would be to forget her, especially with how much time everyone around me spent with her.

It’s just a fear I’ve always had. One that will take lots of time to get over.

“Every time we came up from under the water, we were both laughing so hard.” He nods.

“We finally convinced your mom to join us, and that’s when we realized we were using the pieces of foam completely wrong.” Both of us laugh. “After that, we got a lot better at not nearly drowning ourselves.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt grateful to have Logan in my life, but it might be the one that pummels me the most.

It’s like he knows exactly what to say and how to say it in order to make me feel better.

When I bury myself in my thoughts, Logan is always the one to stand over me with a shovel, ready to dig me free.