Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Lilly’s favorite lullabies, she told me.
Sometimes it only takes one song before she’s out. Sometimes it takes all five before those eyes close. On the rare occasions it takes more than five songs, Gracen starts at the top all over again. I know this because I observed it that second night I’d returned from my beach trip with Holt to avoid Gracen and Lilly. I lurked outside her room and listened. When Gracen came out, quietly closing the door behind her, she gave me a sheepish look.
“Sorry…my singing is pretty bad,” she muttered.
“She likes you to sing to her?” I asked curiously, because my voice was awful and I couldn’t imagine singing those songs to Lilly.
Gracen told me about the five songs, two I knew the lyrics to and three I didn’t. I have since looked them up—the songs being “Bringing Home a Baby Bumble Bee,” “You are my Sunshine,” and “The Circle Song”—and I’m determined to learn them.
I pick up the bourbon and slug it back, my eyes watering from the burn in my throat. I set the tumbler down and don’t pick the bottle back up again. I want to keep my wits about me.
Lilly must have fallen asleep fast, because Gracen’s footsteps echo lightly on the staircase as she comes down. I turn on the stool where I’d been sitting to face her as she steps into the kitchen.
She doesn’t even give me a chance to attack first. Her eyes narrow at me and she crosses her arms over her chest. Her voice is as soft as butterfly wings, though, and I know that’s in deference to Lilly asleep upstairs. “Okay. Let’s have it. You’re clearly pissed at me for something.”
“Mom…Dad…I have to tell you both something.”
That was the start of the conversation.
“I told my parents about Lilly yesterday,” I tell her through gritted teeth as I stand from the stool. “I’m sure you can imagine how it went.”
Gracen’s face crumbles and her eyes get glossy with wetness. I steel myself against it, though.
Lowering her face, she whispers, “How…how did they take it?”
In two long strides I’m before her, my hand going to her chin to force her face up. I lean into her and growl, “How did they take it? They’re devastated. Torn to pieces for everything they missed out on. For everything I missed out on. They’re not only hurting for themselves, they’re hurting for me too.”
“Marek,” she implores, but I roll right over her.
“They didn’t get to hold her after she was born, or change her diapers, or sing her lullabies. They didn’t get to fucking sit in bed with her and read The Three Little Pigs. They didn’t get to spoil her the way grandparents have the right to do.”
Okay, I might be laying it on a little thick, and I’d have to admit I’m probably pouring out my hurts and not my parents’ at this point. My dad was shocked, then he showed the famous Fabritis temper. He was pissed. My mom cried. God, how she’d cried, but toward the end, her tears were happy knowing she had a granddaughter.
By the end of the conversation, it was all about Lilly, and they asked a million questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. They’re getting on a plane this weekend to come and learn the answers themselves.
At the end, my mom told me something I didn’t want to hear. “Marek, you know that had to have been horrible for Gracen too, right? I can’t imagine the difficulty she must have had in making those choices.”
My mother had fucking loved Gracen like a daughter. They didn’t stay in contact when I left, although my parents would have loved to keep seeing her. I’m sure it was just too painful, though, for Gracen, and I understood that.
But I cannot understand how she couldn’t let them be a part of Lilly’s life.
I thought perhaps I’d rail at Gracen for a good long time, but my momentum is completely depleted. My hand drops from Gracen’s face and I scrub it through my hair. “They’re flying in Saturday. They want to meet Lilly.”
“Of course,” Gracen murmurs. She sounds thoroughly beat down, and I wish it made me happy to know that.
But it doesn’t.
It makes me feel ashamed.
I push past Gracen, my intent to head for my bedroom and some solitude so I can just brood alone while preferably watching a baseball game on TV.
“Marek,” she calls out to me. I stop and turn to face her. “Next time you decide to go off, you need to at least have the decency to let me know that you won’t be home.”
My ears start buzzing as heat flushes up my neck.
“Decency?” I ask her. I’m astounded she’d talk to me about decency.
“Yes, decency,” she says with her chin lifted stubbornly. “And the courtesy of letting me know if you’re not coming home.”