Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Lola,” I say before taking a deep breath. “If Nana and Pa weren’t here, would we figure out how to make things work?”
Tears instantly fill her eyes. “Are you sick?” She looks to them for answers.
“No, honey. We’re not sick,” Amos reassures her while Tia frowns at me.
I can’t win.
“If they moved away from here, would we be okay?” I rephrase.
“Ozzy, that’s a lot of pressure to put on a ten-year-old,” Tia says. “How is she supposed to know if you’ll be okay? She’s ten. Who’s the adult?”
“Why are you leaving?” Lola asks, rubbing the unshed tears from her eyes.
Amos and Tia look to me for that answer.
I’m the bad guy—a lousy guy who wants to sacrifice them to save myself. That’s what Tia did to me.
Despite what she thinks, I won’t use Lola as a pawn.
“Pumpkin,” I say in a calmer tone. “Forget I mentioned anything about Maren. You are my number one priority. And it’s incredibly loving of Nana and Pa to be here for you.” Words have never tasted so bitter. I don’t want to bend the knee, but I don’t see any other choice.
Lola’s too young.
Too traumatized.
Too everything.
I told Maren to be patient, but I’m the one showing a lack of patience.
“When the day comes that you overcome your fears from the accident, and I know that day will come, then we will look into life changes for the both of us. But for now, I think it’s best to continue doing what we’re doing. And”—I raise a finger—“Maren suggested we look into using virtual reality gaming to help you. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“Pfft.” Tia rolls her eyes. “Just what a ten-year-old needs—video games that take them away from reality.”
“Well, when her reality is—” I bite my tongue. We can’t do this in front of Lola.
I smile at Lola while digging my phone out of my pocket because it’s vibrating with a call. “It’s just something I will ask your therapist about,” I say, standing and heading toward the kitchen. The number isn’t familiar. “This is Ozzy.” I hold the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Ozzy. It’s Ira from work. Taylor gave me your number.”
“Oh. Okay. What’s up?” I can’t imagine why Ira is calling me.
“Did you hear about Maren? Taylor didn’t realize you and Maren were a thing. And maybe you’re not still a thing, but—”
“Ira!”
Silence.
“What about Maren?”
“Ozzy,” she says in a softer tone. “Maren’s plane went down.”
I take a step back. “Wh-what did you say?” My legs want to give out until the wall of floating shelves catches me with a thud, followed by dishes shattering.
“Ozzy?”
“Where is she?” The words rip from my chest. This can’t be happening. This can’t happen to me twice. No god is that cruel.
“Dad!” Lola yells my name as she, Tia, and Amos enter the kitchen. “What happened?”
“Search and rescue are on their way. That’s all I know. I’m sorry. We’re all praying for her. A lot of people are,” Ira says.
“Was it in the drop zone? Were there other aircraft involved? Did anyone—” My mouth can barely keep up with my thoughts and a million questions.
“Ozzy, what’s going on? Who are you talking to?” Tia asks.
“Lola, stay back. There’s glass everywhere,” Amos says with his hands on her shoulders.
“Ozzy, that’s all I know,” Ira says. “I heard about it from my friend who works at the base. She said she’ll let me know when she hears more.”
With my phone clutched in my hand, my arm flops to my side, glass scattered all around me and my bare feet.
“Don’t move, Oz. Let me grab a broom and shoes for you,” Amos says.
“Dad, what happened? Your eyes are red. Are you crying?” Lola’s words become as desperate as mine were with Ira.
“Lola, you’re going to get glass in your feet. Wait in the living room until we get this cleaned up, and then you can ask your dad whatever you want.” Tia ushers her out of the kitchen.
Amos returns from the garage with a broom and a dustpan. “Oz, did something bad happen?” he asks in a slow, steady voice while clearing a path with the broom to get to me.
I can’t fucking move.
Clank.
My phone slips out of my hand.
I still don’t move.
“Ozzy, you need to tell us what happened,” Tia huffs.
“Stay in the living room with Lola,” Amos says.
“I want to know what—”
“For God’s sake, woman!” Amos snaps. And he never snaps. “For once in your stubborn life, do what I asked you to do.”
She stands her ground for a few seconds before exiting the kitchen.
All this talking, yelling, and questioning. For what?
My wife is dead.
My father is dead.
My daughter can’t get into a car.
My ex-mother-in-law hates me.
And Maren and her plane are who knows where in Canada—shattered into a million blazing pieces of rubble?
I no longer believe there is a purpose to life.