Chapter Twenty-Nine-2

"Oh, come here poppet," she soothed, holding me close to her motherly bosom. Her scent was similar to that of floral fields and made me feel comforted, prompting me to start crying for the Mother I never had. It was an odd sensation and one I struggled to explain. Betty was of no relation to me, yet I felt like in some ways, she expressed true attributes of a Motherly figure. "I really miss him," I spluttered, burying my face further into her chest. "Both of them." "Hush now," she encouraged, rubbing my back in vigorous motions. "Nothing is worth this much upset, lovely. What would your Dad be thinking now if he saw you like this?" "That I'm weak," I cried, pulling back just an inch. "You and I both know that's not true," she scolded, point blank refusing my statement. "You are the exact opposite of that, Rosie. I've known that since the moment I met you. Strong willed with perhaps too much kindness to give." I desperately clung to her every word, as though hearing them for the first time. I knew all this, yet struggled to understand what it all actually meant. I acknowledged my people pleasing tendencies, though refused to accept it as a bad thing. Especially when it had no influence in Will's overall decision. He may have thought he was helping me by walking away when in reality, all it did was hurt me to the point where I was forced to act unprofessional at work. "I could get fired for this," I announced. "Only if they find out." Wiping under my swollen eyes, she offered my pitiful expression a loving smile and tutted at my need to crumble under such pressure. Betty was a woman of many words, yet never wasted her energy on such nonsense. Simply put; when she spoke, you listened and if you knew what was good for you, you took what she said into consideration. "You're a beautiful soul, Rosie and you'll get through this. I've often thought of you as the daughter I never had- or wanted for that matter." "Oh, bloody hell!" I giggled, unable to do anything else. "You would've been a spectacular Mother, Betty." "I would've been a terrible Mother," she shrieked, buttoning up my work cardigan. "But thank you." I smiled against her declaration and metaphorically pulled myself together, thankful for her comfort to begin with. It wasn't her responsibility to make me feel better, though she managed to do so anyway. The world was lacking women like Betty; carefree with a sense of wisdom and poise. She had all her faculties still and I probably valued her opinion more than anyone's. That had to count for something and as I stared into the depths of her warm eyes, I found the sudden urge to hug her again and that's exactly what I did. Professionalism be damned! #### Back at home, everything hurt. My feet were sore and my head was banging non-stop, reminding me of my exhaustion. Earlier, Ben had text to see if we could catch up soon and I had yet to reply. It was well after midnight and I didn't have an appropriate response that wasn't 'bugger off, I'm still mad at you'. I knew I couldn't stay angry at him forever but I just couldn't face seeing him right now. When I looked at his face, I was reminded of what had happened and I wasn't ready to relive it all. Slowly, I shrugged off my work uniform and slipped into a pair of light pyjamas, enjoying the coolness against my body. I was wide awake- I knew that much and suspected sleep was the last thing my mind wanted, even if my aching limbs and heavy eyes required it more than anything. Instead, I busied myself by making a pot of tea and drained its entire contents whilst staring across at my lifeless phone, tempted to call him. I promised myself I wouldn't but figured it couldn't hurt. I scrolled through my contacts and brought up his name, just staring at the eleven digit number. In the end, I hit the back button and called another person I knew would help. "Hello, you've reached Simon. You know what to do." The high-pitched beep sounded, prompting me to start talking. "Dad," I whispered, hating how weak my voice sounded. "Hi." I struggled to hold back the tears and took to pacing my kitchen in a bid to stop them. "I really wish you were here to help me. You see, I've only gone and fallen in love and it's all gone to crap," I informed, imagining him listening in. Cautiously, I began my explanation. "It's Will O'Connor; the other man driving that night. I know he blames himself for your death and maybe I ought to as well. But I don't. I never did. Instead, I tried to help him and look where it's gotten me? I can never be with him and it's not because I'm ashamed or in denial. It's because Ben hates him and Will has refused to factor into more heartbreak. I lost him, Dad. I lost him and it's hurts really bad." Tears escaped the safety of my eyes and slid down my cheeks, mocking me in my need to cry. "I miss him so much and you're not here to make it all better." Never before had I allowed such emotions to pour from me, too afraid to experience the turmoil. I was scared to start, for fear of never stopping, though understood how dangerous it was to bottle everything up. I somewhat buried my true feelings and stopped myself from expressing exactly how I felt. That way, it was easier to continue on with my life as though I was happy. I wasn't happy. For a while, Will had brought light back into my life but even he was gone now. "I don't hate you for leaving," I continued, blubbering through my need to say so. "I know you missed Mum. I never told you this but I used to hear you cry at night. I know I look like her and that can't have been easy for you." I grabbed a tissue from the box above my microwave and vigorously blew into it. Gross! "I just hope you know how loved you are. I wish I could've been there in your last moments because I hate more than anything that you died alone. I hate that we never got to say goodbye." Before I could continue, another beep sounded in my ear, cutting my voicemail off. Stupid bloody thing! "Bye Dad," I whispered, once again, succumbing to my emotions and crumbling apart on my kitchen floor. I lost all sense of time and cried until there was nothing left to give. My throat felt dry and rebelled against my attempts to swallow, painfully reminding me of my emotional state. I no longer possessed the will to move and had to force myself up when a gentle tap sounded at my front door, demanding my attention. "Ben, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Now isn't a good ti-" The sentence was lost on me the second I set my sights on who was currently occupying my doorstep. I had assumed it would be Ben because the very thought of it being anyone else seemed practically impossible. Though, obviously I was wrong. Stood before me (and looking truly lost) was none other than Will O'Connor; pleading with me to let him in. "Rosie..." I responded in the only way I deemed rational. I slammed the door in his face.