“That was the day I realized that he could not cope and I could not cope and, emotionally, he could take me down with him. And I discovered in myself an awful determination not to let that happen. From that moment, I was determined to get him out of his apartment and under professional eyes, or, failing that, to protect myself. How to protect myself, I didn’t know. Hire help over his objections? Take him to court and seek to have him declared incompetent? Report him to Adult Protective Services? Use my ownership of his apartment to force him out? All I knew was that, at that point, I believed myself capable of doing such things, or even of washing my hands of the situation if he would not listen to reason. I imagined telling an indignant world that I had tried my best and could do no more. You have no idea what a thing it is to have that sort of conversation with yourself about a parent.”

“I wanted to protect him, which I was sure I could do, even if I could not protect myself.”

“I leaned over to cover him with the blanket he had been promising to give away to charity for years, and I kissed his forehead, as if by doing so I could protect him from the invisible threads that kept him away from me, from that tiny apartment, and from my memories. As if I believed that with that kiss I could deceive time and convince it to pass us by, to return some other day, some other life.”

“Oh gods... oh gods... I had hurt him... so many times, I had hurt him. By trying to hurt myself, I had hurt him. By trying to push him away, I had hurt him. Every time I opened my mouth and belittled myself with my "turns of rough poetry", I had sliced his heart as fine as my wrists. I did not know why he loved me as he did. I might never know. But as I stood there and held him, my back nagging at me and my leg screaming in protest, I realized that the least I could do was welcome his love with an open heart. And part of doing that was loving myself enough to want to live.”

“Travis ran his hand over the stubble on his scalp, shaking his head. “He didn’t get out,” he whispered. “He didn’t get out, Pidge.”My breath caught as I watched the soot on his cheeks streak with his tears. He fell to his knees and I fell with him.“Trent’s smart, Trav. He got out. He had to have found a different way,” I said, trying to convince myself as well.Travis collapsed into my lap, gripping my shirt with both fists. I held him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I could resist no longer. The love, the desire tearing apart my sould was more than I could bear. I allowed him to take my arm, allowed myself to melt into him, to close my eyes and inhale once more his scent of lavender and winter skies as we walked together towards the orchards.”