𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭
ɴᴏᴀʜ
𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀' 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲. The day that no one prepares you for. The day that no one tells you about. The day when the pain hits you like a train, but today, it's carrying cargo. A boxcar full of things that weren't yours, but after loss, are now.

JJ walks up to me with an empty box in each hand. "You ready?"

My gaze flickers between her and the townhouse. I stand at the top of the driveway like a child looking at the only home they've ever known. The home I built with Emily stands strong, but my heart feels more fragile than ever. I didn't think I'd have to be back so soon. The last I walked inside, there was nothing wrong. Everything was perfect, but of course, that couldn't last for long.

"Noah, before we go in, I should tell you that some agents had to go through some of Emily's things, but they tried to put everything back where it was," JJ explains, but I can barely hear her.

I furrow my brows and bite the inside of my cheek to keep my tears concealed. I don't hear much of anything. Officers are swarming the area. They've blocked off a three-mile radius around us, protecting me from my father—my only living parent. But I don't hear any of it.

I take slow steps down the driveway, each one feeling like I'm further and further away from Emily. Eventually, I'm at the front door. I take the key out of my pocket and slowly open the door. And there it is—home. A place I thought I'd never have to be in without Emily.

JJ puts a hand on my shoulder as we walk in further. "Again, some things might be out of place, but they tried their best. I wanted to make sure that you were able to come in and see it exactly the way it was. And we can go upstairs and get your things, they said—"

"JJ," I cut her off by putting my hand up. "Please, just one second."

"Sorry," she mutters and stands behind me with her hand still on my shoulder for support.

I feel my throat close up as if the very air is thick with memories. I can smell her perfume and feel her presence. It's almost enough to make me see her. I can see her running down the stairs to make it to work on time, yelling for me to hurry up. I see her attempting to cook in the kitchen with her short hair in a messy ponytail and food all over her shirt. I see her reading in the chair and looking up at me every few minutes to see if I'm reading faster than her. I see her asleep on the couch, having given in to her exhaustion trying to stay up while I finish studying.

She's all around, but nowhere at the same time. Only traces of her that can never be reclaimed.

"Okay," I say aloud. "We can go upstairs."

I turn to look at JJ and see her nod. She follows me upstairs, allowing me to go as slowly as I need. When we get to the hallway, my hands shake at my sides. I go to my bedroom, avoiding Emily's room, not prepared to be in her space just yet.

"So, what do we do?" I ask.

"We have lots of boxes, so anything you need, we have room for," JJ explains as she puts two boxes on the floor. "Where do you want to start?"

"Let's start in the closet, I don't need to go through it, we can just box all of it up," I say and turn to see Penelope and Derek in the doorway.

"What can we do?" Penelope asks.

"Everything in here can be boxed up. I don't need to throw any of it out. But if something looks like trash, you can just toss it."

"Can we start on any other room?" Derek asks.

"Everything else can go," I mutter.

JJ steps closer to me with worry in the creases above her eyes. "What? Noah, are you sure?"

"I don't need it—"

Derek steps up and wears the expression that he now uses when he's trying to convince me to be reasonable. "You could need it later when you have your own place one day—"

"I don't need it," I repeat sharply. "They're just things."

"They're your things," Derek says.

"Yes, but they're things," I repeat myself again. "They're objects. They're just things that sit here and take up space. They're not her and they won't bring her back—"

"But they can help you remember her—"

"I don't need help doing that!" I reply, my voice raising out of pressure. "I think about her every day—every second! I remember her face, the browns of her eyes, the parting in her hair, the sound of her voice, the smell of her favorite perfume—everything!"

I can't help it as tears stream down my face. Derek quickly comes over to catch me before I crumble to the floor. He holds me up and guides me to the bed.

"Noah, it's okay," he says softly. "You don't have to throw anything away. We just want to be sure."

"Please," I plead as I grip his shirt.

"What?" JJ asks as she sits beside me, rubbing her hand up and down my back. "What can we do?"

"Please don't touch anything," I whisper against Derek's shoulder. "Don't throw anything away."

"We won't," JJ says, making me pull away from the embrace and look at her with puffy eyes. She strokes my cheek softly and wipes my tears away. "This is your decision."

I nod weakly and stand back up. "I want everything downstairs boxed and put in storage," I say in between hiccups. "And I want everything in her room boxed, but I want to look through everything first. There are probably things I'll want with me now."

"What about your room?" Penelope asks softly.

An odd thing about Penelope is how quiet she's been. She's placed herself in the background and I know it's because she can't bear to see me in this state. It's part of why I agreed to go to Derek's. I know he'll take care of me without falling apart himself, but I don't blame her for that.

"Just take everything," I say. "I know I'll use all of it."

Everyone agrees and goes to tell the agents and moving people downstairs. I stay in my room, looking around at all my belongings. I came here with a duffel bag of clothes, some photographs I used to hide under my pillows, a blanket from my childhood, and a few books. Now, I have an entire closet of clothes that aren't hand-me-downs. There are photos taped all around my walls of the friends and family I've made, most of them of Emily. I'm not even sure where the blanket is because I don't need it to sleep anymore. And I have two bookshelves full of novels with stacks forming at the bottom because there's not enough space for all of them.

Emily gave me everything I ever dreamed about. It was never about what I needed for her, it was about what I wanted. She gave me the life she knew I wished for. I could never repay her, even if she were alive today.

I start to pick up some things in my room. The last time I was here, I didn't know I wouldn't be back for a long time and I certainly didn't know I'd be back without my mother. I pack my things away, starting with my books. They fill so many boxes that the moving team has to take a load to the storage unit just to start putting my boxes in the truck. We work for hours, packing every little thing up, and before I know it, my room is empty.

I walk downstairs with the last box in my hand and see the nearly empty living room. There are boxes scattered around and the only piece of furniture that remains is the couch. I put the box down and stand still in the middle of what was once our living room.

The place I built with her, I'm now taking apart without her. The memories I made with her here are just that—memories. We won't create new ones; I only have what I can remember. In a few months, this place will be someone else's home. In a few years, it will be a past memory for me and years after that, it will just be a building. A place I could pass on the street and not even recognize.

I just hope that whoever comes here next creates the same magic that Emily and I did. I hope they dance in the kitchen, read on the windowsill that overlooks the Capitol building at night, learn where all the creaks are in the staircase, lose things between the couch cushions, and most of all, I hope they find love here because I know I did.

𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗸'𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁

"Ready?" Penelope asks as she walks me through Derek's apartment with her hands over my eyes.

I keep my balance as she stops me and nod. "I guess so."

Penelope pulls her hands away from my eyes and I open them. After I adjust to the light, I see my bedroom. Same setup, same furniture, same curtains, same everything, but just not in Emily's home.

"Wow," I mutter as my gaze takes in the room.

"We figured you'd be more comfortable if we kept Emily's vision for your room," Penelope explains, but my silence must scare her because she starts to ramble. "Or we can change it and make it all new. We can get a new comforter or rug or decorations—whatever you want. We don't have to keep it. I know it can be hard to—"

"It's great," I cut her off before I turn to face her. I see Derek leaning against the doorway with a small smile on his face. "Thanks."

Derek stands up straight and walks over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's good to hear your voice more, kid."

Penelope comes to me as well and hugs me tightly. I can see them holding me, but it's almost like I can't feel it. I can't even pretend that it's Emily holding me, the numbing that's keeping me from breaking down too strong.

Penelope pulls away and looks at me. "We're all here for anything you need."

I nod but don't look at her. It's hard to concentrate on anything other than the visions of Emily in my head. I can only wonder if she's watching me now. Would she be happy that Derek has taken me in? Or would she be jealous? Maybe even insecure, knowing that she was hellbent on being the best mother.

Between trying to do better than Gia and attempting to show up more than Elizabeth, Emily was hard on herself. She wanted to give me the childhood neither of us ever had. She wasn't a conventional woman, but deep down, she wanted the white picket fence life. Maybe she didn't envision a man in her life and maybe there's no dog chasing a tennis ball or no little kids running through the house, but maybe it was just me and Emily.

That's what it always came down to, just the two of us. A mother who strived to be present and loving, and her daughter, who was sometimes hard to please, but loved her mother more than anything in the world. And without knowing, we were those people. And I'm still the daughter who loves her mother more than anything. I just never got to tell her that she got everything she wished for.