I wish that we could begin from the start
I pray that I could be brave enough
To show you how easily I fall apart
But I can't let you know
And I can't let it show
Because I'd rather be without than be without you.
~Jack Savoretti "Without"
He was growing tried of the stares. The look of pity in people's eyes, or was it sorrow? He wasn't sure anymore, the looks all looked the same now and he hated it all just the same and how it reminded of him of everything they had lost.
And that she was gone.
He hated the sound of the ticking clock and how it echoed through the house, reminding him that life went on and he was standing still, stuck between what was and half realities.
He hated the way Haley hovered around, always appearing when all he wanted to be was alone.
But he'd never say a thing; he let her fret around the house cleaning, watching how she'd pause at picture's of Peyton, her fingers gently brushing over her captured image, her eyes closing before she'd continue on her way.
He hated how her voice, every now and than, would drift through the quiet, reminding him of some bill he had forgotten or an activity Peyton had long ago set up for Sawyer to attend.
And he hated how he'd simply nod in response, watching her movements and waiting for that moment when she'd turn and look at him in that way he'd grown to hate.
He hated how Brooke would cling to him a little longer. Her raspy voice quivering as she fought her tears, too afraid to let them fall.
He hated how she was too afraid to tell him she missed her best friend and life just wasn't the same without her.
He hated the way he'd hear her whispering stories about Peyton to Sawyer, her voice fading whenever he'd walk into the room and she'd stare at him with that look in her eyes.
And he hated the way she could never really meet his eyes anymore.
He hated how Nathan was the only one who never let his sorrow shallow him whole, pushing him to leave the house and live.
He hated how it seemed like Nathan was moving on and forgetting all that she meant, when it reality he knew he was struggling along with the rest of them.
He hated it all and he wished the ticking clock would stop and time would stand still and he could just pretend for one moment, one second that she was still there and they weren't alone.
He found solace in sitting with her. His back pressed against that old willow tree, just a stone's throw from her mother's grave. He'd sit there for hours, just talking to her, telling her how much Sawyer had changed in the short time she'd been gone and how he was trying.
Sometimes he'd sit there in silence just listening to the sounds around him and wondering if she was there beside him, missing him like he missed her.
Sometimes he'd get angry with her, he'd curse her and the silence when he'd couldn't hear her voice in his head and he'd feel tears burning the back of his eyes and he'd bow his head just as the sobs would rack his body, wishing he could hold it in because he had always been the strong one.
Sometimes he would just lie there, curled on his side, his hand pressed against the damp grass, right over where she laid, like she was beside him and they were somewhere else. He'd close his eyes and picture her, her hand in his, gently rubbing over that scar on his right palm and he'd whisper how he missed her and how he'd love her until the end of time.
But most of the time, he'd sit there before her headstone, his legs out before him, crossed at the ankles with Sawyer tucked at his side, staring at her name and those years with that small dash between and those words craved in stone;
Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer-Scott
Loving mother, friend, daughter
and wife
"There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart."
They'd sit there for hours, staring at that stone and those words with Sawyer softly whispering to her mother. Her small hand pressed in his and he'd image her sitting there before them, legs crossed all with that smile he knew told him, she loved them more then anything.
Sometimes he'd pull that book and that crayon from his jacket pocket and simply write everything she was in the margins. Sawyer's soft voice whispering in his ear, everything she was to her.
She was my mamma.
He can still her yell his name, the tone scaring him so that as he stood, his chair flew back, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud and left his heart pounding in his chest.
He could still see that look in her eyes as he rounded the corner, his heart in his throat but when she softly whisper, her voice low as she whispered she called me momma. He had wanted to laugh at that moment but when he saw those tears in her green eyes, all he could do was close the distance between them and pull her to him.
She had clung to him in that moment. Her hands clasped around his shirt, holding him close as her shoulders shook until he heard that faint laugh he loved, escape her lips and she pulled back with a smile and a look of utter amazement and words that had left him laughing and pulling her back to him; I'm someone's momma.
She was home.
He can remember the moment when he first realized she was home, that she was everything to him.
He had been away, another book tour when he had quietly padded through the darken house, making his way to their room in an attempt not to wake Sawyer. Not to wake her.
His movements stilling when he caught sight of her silhouette in their darken bedroom, her chest gently rising and falling in an even pattern and he hadn't wanted to move from that spot. He'd been content just watching her sleep and the grace that had been all her.
The grace she never let the outside world see.
But he did move, slipping from his dress pants and letting the button down shirt fall from his shoulders and only really noticing how's she was sleeping when he stood by the edge of the bed. She had been curled around his pillow, on his side of the bed, with his old Raven's t-shirt on. Her golden hair fanned out around her and he couldn't help but smile at the beauty was all her in that moment.
With a gentle touch, he had reached out and stroked her cheek, hoping to lull her awake long enough for to get her to move over, because he knew how much she hated it when he slept on her side. He had laughed when she had told him that, only for his laughter to fade when she had simply whispered that she liked half the bed smelling like him because when he was gone, it reminded her that he was there.
And he was home, her home.
His breathe had hitched when her eyes slowly fluttered open and there was no denying it. Not anymore because when her lips curved upward and she softly whispered you're home he realized in that moment she was everything that embodied the meaning of home.
She made the best root beer floats on rainy days.
They were supposed to go the beach but when they woke to the sound of pouring rain, their plans changed and Sawyer was treated to her first root beer float.
She had pouted. Her green eyes narrowed in that squint that Peyton had once told him, she wanted their child to have, glaring out the window at the rain that hadn't stopped falling since they woke. He had tried to coax her away from the window with a game of Wii but she simply glared back at him, her arms folded across her chest. He had wanted to speak but before the words came, the sound of clicking glass and a thud from the kitchen had that glare fading from Sawyer's eyes and her arms to fall to her side. Her gaze drifting down the hall.
She had glanced at him and back down towards the kitchen, her lips turning upward slightly at the sound of Peyton humming, what she knew was another Cure song; lovesong. He smiled down at her, his hand reaching out for her smaller one, before gently leading her down the hall and towards the kitchen.
He had chuckled at the sight that meet them; a smiling Peyton, a bucket of melting ice cream, a liter of root beer and three over flowing floats.
And their ruined day at the beach was forgotten with just one sip.
She laid with me when I was sick.
He remembers the first time Sawyer was really sick. He remembers the fear that shone in Peyton's eyes as she held her in her arms. Her soothing voice whispering in her ear as she gently rocked her. Sawyer had been three and had fever of 102 that sent them flying to the emergency room.
He had tried to take her from Peyton, but she just clung tighter to her, pressing her small form closer to her chest. Her hand gently combing through Sawyer's long blonde curls, her eyes filled with fear and tears that he knew she had been battling since they woke to sound of Sawyer crying.
And Sawyer only wanted her mother, her cries growing louder whenever another came near.
He watched them, laying there in that hospital bed, Sawyer cradled in Peyton's arms, her soft voice gently lulling her to sleep with the faint sounds of the hospital around them.
And it was how he would find them whenever Sawyer was sick; Peyton laying on her side, Sawyer curled into her as her hand gently brushed through their daughters hair, her eyes closed as she hummed a song, lulling Sawyer to sleep.
He wrote it all down, every memory, adding to the growing list of all the things she was and all the things she meant to them.
He wrote how she walked and how the sound of her laughter sounded like music. He wrote how her eyes would brighten at the sight of their daughter and how she'd tell him, in the late of night that Sawyer was the best part of her, of them.
He wrote how Sawyer thought the world of her and how she wanted to be like her. He wrote how she looked like Peyton a little more each day and how he was grateful he had a part of her still.
He wrote how he adored her beyond no end and how it ached to be without her. He wrote about the pain and the beauty that had been their life. He wrote it all down with words that he knew could never really do her justice.
He read and re-read each word, taking his time with each word he wrote and letting the memories wash over them as they'd sit there for hours with the warm summer breeze blowing.
His hand flew across those pages, filling in the empty spaces with words that described her; beautiful, brave, curious. With each turn of the page, the empty spaces faded until he reached the end and he wrote the two words that left his eyes stinging with tears and his heart aching a little more; She's gone.