Patrick

I bought flowers. Not just any flowers, a whole three-dozen of them. It came out of the money that my dad paid me after I helped my mom garden last week, but that is the least of my concerns. My main concern is getting my head bitten off by her grandfather for even stepping foot here only two days after the accident, but after doing some thinking I just thought that this would be the mature thing to do. This is my fault after all, and the loss of Ella still makes my heart feel like it's bleeding inside of my chest every second of the day. I don't know when that'll go away.

On the way over here I have recited my apology over and over again to say it exactly how I planned, but when my finger hits the doorbell every sentence I came up with leaves my mind. I'm standing on the porch with nothing but the flowers crowded in my hands as a woman I've never seen before opens up the door. She looks at me for a quick second, a couple of dark brown strands of hair falling right in front of her eye. When I look into them it's like Ella is staring right at me again, and that's when it hits me that this must be her mother.

"U-Um..." I stutter, trying to recollect my words. "Hi. I'm, uh, I'm just..."

I stand here like an idiot with the flowers before she gently reaches over and grasps one of the bouquets in her hands. She looks like she hasn't slept in about four days, but then again I probably look the same. The wrinkles on her face stand out more than usual I'm assuming, and her eyes have a hint of red in them from all of the crying. I guess I didn't expect to run into her mom here for the first time, and I'm sure what she's heard of me hasn't been good. I highly doubt I should tell her who I am. I'll just leave the flowers and go.

"Wait." She calls out when I reach the bottom step. "May I ask who you are?"

God, I wish she didn't want to know. I turn around and walk back up to her, despite every being in my body telling me not to, and try everything I can not to cry right now. I've been a blubbering mess since it happened, and being around her mom for the first time when she wasn't with me to introduce us hurt that much more. This is not how I wanted this to happen.

"My name's Patrick." I almost whisper, extending my hand out clumsily towards her. "Connelly."

"I had a feeling it was you. I'm Ella's mother. Would you like to come inside?"

No. I can't go inside. If I go in there and her grandparents are in the living room they'll lose it on me, and then I'll lose it all over again myself. Not to mention all of the memories in her room we had together. When I came over for dinner, or the time I picked her up for our first date, or our long night out on the beach. All of them are slamming into my head at once and I can't get them out. She isn't inside waiting for me.

"Ms. Carson, as intriguing as that sounds I just don't think it's the best-"

"They aren't home." She tells me. "They're at the shack and won't be back for at least another hour. Please, can I talk to you?"

Her eyes are begging me to come inside. I don't know why she's alone at a time like this, but when a couple of tears start to fall down her cheeks I nod my head and hold my breath as I re-enter the doorway I had with Ella before.

It feels different. It doesn't feel like some homey cottage, or a place filled with love. Right now as I look around at all of the family pictures on the wall and see different ones of Ella as a little girl on Halloween dressed up as a witch, or another one of her on Christmas with her mom and Santa, it just feels empty and lonely. It feels like this home is missing a piece of itself. That piece of itself is Ella.

Her mother returns with a couple of vases to put all of the flowers in as I sit down onto the couch and fiddle with the watch that's around my wrist. I'm so beyond nervous right now, and between everything that's happened I feel like I might throw up too. It's too soon to be in here. Way too soon.

The roses fall into a vase, and then the sunflowers fall into another as she steps back to analyze them, admiring. Ella looked almost exactly like her, and in a way it killed me. I didn't want to look at her because those eyes reminded me of hers. The ones I used to love to look into.

"I didn't believe her when she said she had found someone." She says, sinking down into a chair next to me before she leans over to grab the cup of tea that's sitting on top of the coffee table. "I thought she was just making you up for me to not worry about her. She told me a lot about you though. She told me all of these things that were so-"

"Horrible." I finish for her. "I know, and I'm so-"

"Good. The things she told me were good. That's why I didn't believe her until I started to see how genuinely happy she became. She sounded happier... healthier, even. I've never seen her like that before."

For a moment I feel relieved. For a moment I feel like I was there for Ella and gave her something to hold onto, but then I remember our last encounter, which ripped all of that down and went right out the door. I highly doubt she had a chance to tell her mother what I did to her. I'm guessing if her mother knew then she wouldn't be treating me so nicely right now.

"I wanted to meet you after she had told me so much about you and what the two of you had...done."

Oh my god Ella, you didn't. Please tell me you didn't.

She clears her throat and takes another sip of tea before she continues. "I didn't expect us to be meeting under these circumstances, and what I wanted to tell you as soon as I got here was-"

"Before you finish, please let me explain." I beg.

My heart is racing and the tears are already in my eyes. The only sounds you can hear are the seagulls outside and the waves crashing against the shore as her grandmother's wind chimes sound eerie almost. It sounds like a noise you'd find in some horror movie or something.

"I know that what I did was wrong. I wake up every single morning and all I do is think about her Ms. Carson. I want to let you know that I was in love with your daughter. Not an ounce of me wasn't. I know Ella's grandparents hate me, and you probably do too, I don't blame you. I just brought the flowers over to try and somehow apologize even though I know it's not going to fix anything."

"Patrick..." She trails off, shaking her head in disbelief. "I wanted to tell you thank you."

The tears immediately spill onto my cheeks when the words leave her mouth, relief flooding through every nervous bone I have right now. She's crying too, harder than she was the first time, and for a second I want to hug her but it just doesn't feel like the right time now. We don't know each other that well yet.

"I wanted to say thank you because you showed my daughter what it's like to be loved. What happened was a mistake Patrick, and you and I both know Ella wouldn't want you to blame yourself for this no matter how mad she was at you. My daughter loved you. I know for certain that the one thing she wanted before she died was to know what true love was, and you showed my little girl love. For that I can never be more thankful."

She starts to sob, and now I just ignore the awkwardness and hug her mother, me crying from everything she just said and because she just made me feel one thousand times better. She doesn't blame me. She's the only one who doesn't blame me and isn't making me feel so small about myself.

"I want her back." She cries. "God, just bring her back to me."

Her whole body is shaking, and as I try to rub up and down her back it's no use. The tiny frame of her mother is a wreck. I hug her tighter as my sobs go onto the shoulder of her shirt, soaking through the t-shirt she's wearing. When I pictured meeting her mother I pictured me dressing up in a suit and tie going over for dinner back in Washington. I'd be so nervous as Ella tried to tell her mother about me because I wouldn't be able to speak. I never pictured this. Mourning over the loss of her daughter and the loss of the only one I've ever loved wasn't in my plans.

"I'm sorry for bringing all of this on you Patrick." She sniffles, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. "You seem like a very sweet boy. I'm sorry you have to go through this."

"Ms. Carson, you don't need to apologize. My loss is one thing, but yours is on a complete different spectrum. I loved her, but your love for her was beyond what I could give her. The love a parent can give is stronger than what I could ever give, and what you're going through right now should never have to happen to anyone. Just take care of yourself right now and don't worry about anyone else. We'll get through it."

"It just doesn't even seem real." She says softly. "When I got the call I wasn't even thinking. I just booked my flight. By the time I got here it was too late. She was already gone."

We had a lot more in common than I thought, but instead of telling her my side of the story I just kind of nod my head and look down at my shoes. I still can't believe that she's gone, and I know it sounds stupid, but it's like I sit here and just think that she'll be walking through that door at any second. Then she'll smile at me like she used to, her cheeks blushing because she always got embarrassed when I stared at her. I would give anything to see her face again.

"Did you maybe want to go to lunch or something Ms. Carson? It'll be on me. It's just that I've only been in here for about twenty minutes now and I'm already-"

"Thank you, Patrick, but I'm not up to leaving just yet. I'm sorry for bringing you in here, but there is one more thing I wanted to ask you before you go."

She looks at me again and has that same look in her eye that she did when she opened the door. It's a begging and pleading look, almost as if she can't bear to ask what she's about to.

"Of course." I say. "Anything."

"The funeral's on Thursday in Harwich at one. I've been thinking a lot about it, and after spending the last couple of days planning it all out I just thought I'd ask if maybe you'd want to write a eulogy for Ella. You were one of the most important people in her life. I just think she'd want you-"

"I'll do it."

I don't realize that I've agreed so quickly without thinking, but I do. To speak at Ella's funeral is going to be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do, but in a way I think she's right. Ella would have wanted me to, and even if she was upset with me, even if she was so mad that night, I can only hope that some part of her deep down still loved me. Two days isn't exactly the longest to put something together, but I'll figure it out. I'll write it for her.

"That means the world, Patrick. Thank you."

"Of course. I just don't really know if your parents will-"

"Don't worry about them." She cuts me off, setting her cup of tea down on the table once more. "I'll sort it out."

She stands up and hugs me for at least a minute straight, her arms grasping me so tightly I think I might stop breathing, but then she pulls away and thanks me again for allowing her to talk to me. What she doesn't realize is that I should be the one thanking her. I never thought about it the way her mother did, but if giving Ella love was the only thing she wanted out of life then I'm glad I had the opportunity to show her. I just wish I had loved her a little more like she deserved.

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