CH- 15

CH- 15
Irene’s POV

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, my eyes glued to the horizon as Nathan’s car disappeared into the distance. It wasn’t just a car driving away—it was my son, my firstborn, slipping further out of reach with every second that passed.

My heart ached in a way I hadn’t thought possible, not even after all these years. Behind me, I could feel Del’s arms wrap around me, his warmth familiar yet distant, like so much else in our lives now.

But this time, I couldn’t hold it together. Not anymore.

The tears came before I could stop them, spilling over silently at first, then cascading down my cheeks in waves.

For two long years, I’d tried to be strong—for Del, for myself, and especially for Nathan—but today, standing here alone except for my husband, the dam broke wide open.

“It’s okay, Irene,” Del whispered softly, pulling me closer. His voice was steady, but I knew him well enough to hear the cracks beneath the surface. “It’ll be fine. He’ll come around soon.”

I shook my head, choking back sobs that refused to stay buried any longer. “We should have… done better, Del. We should have done so much better.” My words were barely audible, muffled by the lump in my throat and the heaviness in my chest.

Del tightened his grip on me, his embrace both comforting and suffocating. “Yes, we should have done better, Irene,” he admitted quietly, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the house we still called home. “And that’s something we’re going to live with for the rest of our lives. But none of it was your fault—we were just young parents who had lost a daughter and didn’t know how to deal with it.”

He kissed the top of my head gently, his lips lingering for a moment too long. “Give him time. He’ll come to understand.”

I wiped my tears with trembling hands, forcing myself to look up at the man I’d shared nearly four decades of life with.

Thirty-eight years ago, he’d been the picture of youth and vitality, his dark hair untouched by gray, his smile radiant enough to light up the darkest corners of my world.

Now, though older and wearier, he was still handsome in his own quiet way—a testament to the love we’d built together despite everything.

“And what if he never comes around?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if he never understands what really happened?”

Del hesitated, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “You can’t think about that,” he said finally, his tone firm but gentle. “We just have to hope that he’ll come around on his own time.”

I nodded slowly, knowing he was right but unable to fully let go of the fear gnawing at my insides.

Turning toward the house, I allowed myself a small, bittersweet smile as memories flooded back unbidden—memories of laughter, innocence, and days when things weren’t quite so complicated.

Elaine had only been four years old when tragedy struck, but I remembered her vividly. Her curly hair bounced with every step, her giggles filled the air like music, and her tiny hand always reached instinctively for Nathan’s.

He adored her, absolutely worshipped the ground she walked on. They were inseparable, those two, like two halves of the same whole.

One particular Sunday stood out among the rest—a perfect day marred only by its ending.

Elaine and Nathan had been invited to a pool party down the street, and I had spent hours dressing them in matching outfits: little blue swimsuits embroidered with sailboats, oversized sun hats perched precariously atop their heads.

As they skipped ahead of Del and me, holding hands and laughing, I couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky I was to have such beautiful children.

At the party, I mingled with the other mothers, exchanging polite smiles and small talk while keeping one eye on my kids.

Nathan had been splashing around in the shallow end, his face alight with joy, while Elaine clung to the edge of the pool, dipping her toes cautiously into the water.

Everything seemed normal—perfect, even—until I realized I hadn’t seen Elaine in several minutes.

“Nathan,” I called out, kneeling beside him as he played with a bright yellow beach ball. “Where’s your sister?”

My son looked up at me blankly, shrugging his tiny shoulders. “I dunno.”

Panic set in almost immediately. I scanned the crowded backyard, calling Elaine’s name louder and louder until my voice cracked.

Other mothers joined in the search, their movements frantic but ultimately futile. No one thought to check the pool—not until it was too late.

When one of the women screamed, pointing toward the deep end where a small blue figure floated eerily still, my knees gave out beneath me.

I slumped to the ground, my vision blurring as reality crashed down around me. Elaine had been wearing a blue pool dress.

“I’m sorry,” Del murmured now, interrupting my thoughts. “I know how hard this is for you.”

I turned to him, my eyes glistening with fresh tears. “Do you remember the last thing she said to us that morning?” I asked softly, my voice thick with emotion.

Del nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How could I forget? She ran back inside after putting on her hat and said, ‘Mommy, Daddy, I love you bigger than the sky.’”

I laughed through my tears, clutching Del’s arm tightly. “And then Nathan yelled from the doorway, ‘Not fair! I love you bigger than the universe!’”

We stood there for a moment, wrapped in silence and memory, letting the weight of loss settle between us once more.

But amidst the sorrow, there was also gratitude—for the fleeting perfection of those early years, for the bond we’d shared as a family, and for the hope that someday, somehow, Nathan might forgive us.

“He’ll come back,” I whispered, more to myself than to Del. “He has to especially because of this,” taking a glance at my wrist.