Chapter 50: What Hurts the Most

Abby

July 25

Party time! There's nothing better to break up the monotony of a lazy summer than a nice, lazy picnic hosted by a friend's family.

"Hey! Watch it!"

I jumped out of the way as David Michael and Benny chased after Shannon the dog, who was soaking wet and carrying what looked like someone's shoe in her mouth. Mrs. Brewer chased after them for a few paces before cupping her hands around her mouth to shout at them.

"Get Mrs. Kishi's shoe away from the dog, David Michael!" she shouted. "Then lock her up in the kennel!" She looked at me, smoothed her hair away from her face and smiled. "Hello, Abby. How are you?"

I grinned. "Clearly less stressed out than you are. How did Shannon get Mrs. Kishi's shoe?"

"I don't have Mrs. Kishi's shoe," Shannon the girl said as she approached us. She was carrying a plate with an assortment of veggies, cheese, and chips on it. I took a couple of carrots from her and crunched down on one.

"Not you," I said after rolling my eyes. "The dog."

"I was joking."

I looked around. "Where is the food?"

"Is that all you ever think about, Abby?" Shannon asked. Mrs. Brewer sighed and looked back in the direction that the dog and the boys had run. "It's amazing that you don't weight three hundred pounds already."

"What can I say? I have an amazing metabolism."

"I'd better go make sure that they aren't playing 'monkey in the middle' with Mrs. Kishi's shoe," Mrs. Brewer fretted before taking off to scold her children. Shannon shook her head sadly.

"I hope I only have girls," she told me. "Boys are nothing but trouble."

"Yeah, but they're fun." I tried to pinch a square of cheese from Shannon's plate, but she slapped my wrist. "Hey! I just wanted some cheese!"

"Well, the food is right over there. Go get your own plate and stop picking off of mine," she said, swinging her plate away from me when I tried a second time to get some cheese away from her. "Go, Abby. It's not like there's a line for cheese and crackers or anything."

"Some friend you are," I grumbled half-heartedly and wandered to the tables where several platters of veggies and cheeses had been laid out. Since we only lived a few houses away from the Brewer-Thomas household, I arrived early to the party. That meant that all the food was fresh from the fridge and hadn't been picked over yet. I selected a plate and began piling food onto it.

I knew the party hadn't been Kristy's idea. The fact of the matter was that Kristy really hadn't been all that socially active in the last few weeks. I don't know if it was because she was big enough to need to have a license plate or because she just wasn't feeling very well, but she wasn't really returning anyone's calls. I stopped by a couple of times to just say hello, but usually left after only a few minutes since she didn't seem willing to keep up her end of the conversation. I knew that everyone was concerned with Kristy's depression, but I wasn't sure that throwing a huge party with everyone and their mother invited was quite the best way to cheer her up.

Looking around, I could see that, so far, a lot of people that Kristy knew and cared about had shown up. That, at least, would probably cheer her up a little bit. The whole Kishi family, plus a man who I assumed was Janine's fiancée, were standing around by the grill. Mr. Brewer was fiddling with the kerosene tank while Mr. Kishi was crouched beside him, pointing things out. The other man was poking a stick into the top. I wasn't exactly sure what they were trying to accomplish, besides blowing themselves to pieces, but I figured it was best to just let them to whatever they were attempting to do in peace.

Scooping a spoonful of French onion dip onto my plate, I turned and almost bumped into another blonde, who let out a startled sound.

"Abby, watch out!" she said.

I grinned. "Stacey McGill, what are you doing, standing right behind me when I have a plateful of food? Did you want me to spill it and have to kill you as a result?"

She laughed. "No, I was just coming over to get some carrots and peppers." She grimaced at my plate. "Do you realize that all of that cheese will probably make you constipated?"

"It will not," I snapped. "Besides, some of us have stronger stomachs and can handle cheese better than others of us."

Stacey shrugged. "Whatever you say, just don't come crying to me when you can't poop tomorrow."

"Don't worry, I won't bring my bathroom woes to you," I told her and she smiled back at me.

Stacey walked over to where the vegetables were and I walked along beside her. I didn't say anything as she put a few of each into a paper napkin and turned back to me. Wordlessly, we both headed over to the backyard of the Brewer-Thomas estate and sunk down beneath one of the massive oak trees growing back there. I sighed contentedly as I munched my way through some cheese and cracker. I could see David Michael closing the gate to the kennel in the back where they kept the dogs in the summertime so that they wouldn't destroy the entire backyard while Benny returned to the front yard with Mrs. Kishi's shoe.

"Stacey?" I asked quietly.

"Mmm?"

"How are you doing?"

She was quiet for a moment and I felt embarrassed. She probably didn't want to talk about, especially with me. After all, Stacey and I weren't especially close, we really just hung out whenever there was a big group get together like today. I popped another piece of cheese into my mouth, feeling my face turn red.

"I'm… all right," she said slowly. I turned my face to look at her. She was staring off towards the front yard, like she was deliberately trying hard not to look at me. "At least, I think I'm getting to be all right. I just don't know what to expect anymore, you know?" When she looked at me, I nodded swiftly, as though I had no control over my head and neck. "I'm a huge control freak and this thing has really made me realize how little control I have over things."

"That's rough." I didn't really know what to say. What do you say? "How did he send that email anyways? I thought he was in jail?"

"He asked a friend to send it for him," Stacey said softly. "He gave his friend his email account and password and told him word for word what to write. The prick."

"Yeah," I murmured. We sat in silence for a while and just ate our food. Gradually, I could tell by the rising din of conversation that more and more people were arriving. I touched Stacey's shoulder gently. "Do you want to go and mingle?"

She grinned. "Mingling is what I do best."

50

"Abby, did you try this potato salad?" Mom asked me. "It's fabulous."

"Glad you like it," Mrs. McGill replied. She was sitting at the end of our picnic table, next to Stacey and Jessi Ramsey. "It's an old family recipe. I was thinking about changing it up a little bit, but I decided that it's better not to try to fix something when it isn't broken."

"The apples are a great touch." Mom ate another forkful thoughtfully and smiled. "I mean, it really is good."

"Thanks."

"She loves praising the cook," Bob, Mom's boyfriend, teased her. Mom nudged him with a grin. "Every single time I cook for her and the girls, she's always going on and on about how wonderful everything I make is. It's great for my self esteem."

"I'm just glad that I didn't have to cook it myself," Mom defended herself. Mrs. McGill laughed. "I suppose I don't really care who cooks for me so long as it tastes good and I didn't have to lift a finger to help with it."

"Lazy," Bob murmured and pressed a kiss to her lips. I looked away, feeling the usual hot embarrassed blush heat up my face as they kissed. I was all right with them dating and I loved that Bob made my mother happy, but that didn't mean that I liked to watch my mother kiss my old gym teacher. It was still a little bizarre. "No wonder the girls memorized the numbers for every take out place in town."

"Not everyone is as excited about making homemade pizzas and lasagnas as you are, honey," Mom told him. She was right. Like my mother, I had inherited her hatred of spending time in the kitchen. I would just as soon pick up a menu for Chinese food than to try and grill a steak.

They kissed again and I glanced over at Anna who gave me a sympathetic smile. At least there was one other person at the table who felt the same way I did about this whole dating thing.

Abruptly, Bob cleared his throat and stood up. Everyone at the table turned to look at him.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" he called loudly enough so that everyone at the party, at all of the tables, turned to stare at us. I slouched down a little bit, feeling my cheeks heat up again. "There's something that I'd like to do while I have a big audience to witness it."

"Oh, no!" Anna gasped, pressing her fingertips to her lips. I looked over at her.

"What?"

"What do you think, Abby?" was all she would say. Her mouth fell open into a small "O" of shock and I turned around in my seat to stare hard at Bob.

"Rachel, would you mind stepping over here?" he asked, taking Mom's hand and leading her towards a patch of grass. She was laughing and looking around like this was all some kind of huge, ridiculous joke. Everyone was chattering in low voices, grins on their faces. Something in my head was refusing to click into place. Maybe I didn't want it to.

Bob knelt onto one knee and I almost jumped out of my seat in disproval. Mom let out a gasp and nearly leaped away from him. Everyone at the picnic burst out laughing as she covered her face with her hands and shook her head. I could tell by the blush on her face that she was embarrassed, but when she lowered her hands and let Bob take one of them again, she was laughing, too. He pulled out a black box from his back pocket and her laughter froze on her face. When he opened it and slide the ring onto Mom's suddenly limp finger, she just stared down at it.

"Rachel, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked.

I could hear my heart thundering in my ears so loud that even the sounds of the people whispering and murmuring at my table could be heard. After a moment or so, Mom reanimated and a bright smile appeared on her face. She nodded happily and squeezed his hand.

"Of course," she laughed and Bob swept her into his arms. The picnic burst into cheers and wild clapping for the newly engaged couple. Shannon Kilbourne looked especially satisfied. I felt like I was going to be sick.

What was wrong with me? My mother had just accepted an engagement proposal from a really decent man and here I was, wondering how early I could slip away to a bathroom so that I could be sick. My stomach was twisting into knots and sweat was beading on my forehead. I should be happy, my brain kept screaming, but nothing was working. I pressed my palm to my eyebrows and closed my eyes.

"Abby?" Anna asked softly. "Are you all right?"

"Anna, I have to go inside. I… something isn't settling right." I glanced at my twin. She knew I was lying, but nodded sympathetically anyways. She nudged.

"I'll let Mom know that's where you went," she said softly.

I smiled gratefully, got to my feet, and rushed into the mansion. Each footstep pounded inside my skull as I nearly jogged inside and once I closed the door behind me, I covered my ears with my hands and let out a low moan. I sank down so that I was resting on the balls of my feet and didn't move for a long time. At least, I didn't move until I felt a hand reach down to touch my shoulder.

I jumped and looked up. A massively pregnant Kristy Thomas was standing in front and above me, a concerned look on her face. I pulled my hands away from my ears.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on, Abby," she groaned. "You really suck at lying. You're crouched on the floor in my kitchen, with your ears covered, and you're trying to tell that there isn't anything wrong with you?"

I sighed. "Mom and Bob just got engaged. Like, just now, right outside. In front of Stoneybrook."

Kristy nodded. "That's rough." She looked me over. "Come on, get up. You can't be comfortable like that."

"I'm fine," I grumbled. She nodded then turned around so that she could settle herself into a chair. I watched her closely, feeling resentful that she was so calm and sure about this whole engagement thing. "You don't understand what I'm going through, Kristy, so stop pretending to be so sympathetic."

Kristy blinked, looking surprised. "Abby, I have a stepfather, too. I was just as upset as you are when Watson proposed to Mom. Believe me, I understand."

"Your dad's alive," I snapped. How dare she even begin to compare us? I was beginning to feel anger rise up in me against her and she had barely done anything. Still, I couldn't stop myself. "You can see your dad whenever you want."

"That's not true and you know it, Abby," Kristy said, her gentle, helpful voice draining into a hurt, confused one. "Why are you picking a fight with me?"

"Because you always try to pretend that you know everything!" I shouted. "Kristy Thomas, world class know-it-all! She'll solve all your problems because she can fix everything!"

"You're just upset about the engagement," Kristy said quietly and dismissively. Part of me could sense that she was trying to explain away my remarks to soothe herself and that part of me screamed at the rest of me to shut up. I don't listen to myself very well.

"Shut up, Kristy!" I snapped. "Stop trying to fix me and work on fixing yourself!"

Kristy just stared at me for a long time before she looked away quickly. In the moment before she looked away, I could see tears building up in her eyes. I closed my own eyes as she looked away, wishing I had just shut up. When I opened my eyes again, Kristy's neck was bent so that her face was looking away from me and it was obvious that she was trying to cry silently.

"Kristy-"

"Get out."

I nodded. I deserved to be told to leave, after all. I got to my feet and let myself out the door wordlessly.

50

I had a lot of time to think before Mom, Bob, and Anna came home. The picnic was still in full swing. So, I sat down on my bed with a notebook, a pen, and a photograph of my father. I chewed on the bottom of my pen for a minute or two before composing a letter to him.

50

Dear Dad,

It's me, Dad. Abby. I know that I don't really need to write you a letter because all I need to do is just think hard enough and I know that you can hear what I'm trying to say. I know that I can say your name out loud and feel your presence around me like a warm, safe blanket. Still, one of the things I remember the therapist, who Mom made me see right after you died, suggested was writing a 'goodbye letter' to you so that I could start to let go and not feel so bad. I told that I never wanted to let go and that you were always going to be there, no matter what.

But, Dad, things have gotten so much more complicated since I was nine. I'm not a little girl anymore. I know that you're always there for me and I do feel you near me when times get rough, but I know that you're not just invisible and untouchable, just out of my reach. Death is different from that and I think that I've forced myself to refuse to really understand what death is because if I did, that would mean loosing you a second time around. I don't want to lose you again, Dad.

I want to be a good girl for Mom, Dad, I really do. I know that you'd be disappointed in what a brat I've been about this whole thing. I know that if she had died, she would've wanted you to date again and find someone to love as well. But, Dad, no matter how logically I explain it to myself, it still feels like Bob is a replacement father. You're my dad, not him. Dad, I just don't know how to stop these feelings. I feel like I'm betraying everyone and the worst part is that I just can't stop.

What hurts the most, Daddy, is the real, physical pain of your death. When I was little, it didn't hurt quite so much as it does now. It's like this never ending ache that comes and goes, depending on what triggers it. When Bob proposed, I felt like I was going to die, my whole body and soul and mind hurt so badly. I wanted to scream, it hurt so much, but there wasn't anything I could do.

Daddy, I guess the only thing I can do anymore is just comfort myself with knowing that you are still with me, even if I can never touch or see you. I can sense your love, especially now as I write this, and I know that you're always going to look out for me. So, please, Dad. Please just stay near me and help me to get through this in one piece.

I miss you so much, Daddy. I really do. There's nothing I would've give to have you back again.

Love,

Abby

50

After I wrote and sealed my letter, I climbed into bed and sobbed myself to sleep. I dozed fitfully for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, until I heard the rest of my family come home. Throwing off the covers, I raced downstairs. Mom looked relieved to see me and collected me in her arms.

"Where did you go?" she asked softly.

"I didn't feel well," I whispered.

"Do you feel better?" Anna asked, knowing me perfectly well. She knew why I had left. I pulled away from Mom and nodded.

"I'll be all right." I captured Bob's hand before he had the chance to wander into the living room to watch TV. "Congratulations. I really mean it."

"We would never doubt you," Bob said and kissed the top of my head. "And, thank you. Thank you for everything, Abby."

I nodded, tears once more in my eyes. "Yeah."

Anna motioned Mom and Bob to watch TV and held me as I cried quietly against her shoulder. She knew that I was crying for Dad and stroked my back and hair gently. Sometimes, I don't know how I could survive without Anna, who knows exactly how to soothe and heal me whenever I need her.

Eventually, when there were no more tears left to cry, I slipped into the living with Anna and the four of us watched a movie like a normal, whole family.