Later that night, Will had snuck some weed from his brother's stash and we'd smoked it in the pool house and made out. But I didn't want to share that with Carolyn so I kept my mouth shut.
"We had some good times here," I said. It was true. While we didn't come here a ton and we were mostly at my house, as long as Will and I were together it had been a good time. I lifted up the box I'd brought with me.
"Carolyn, I want you to have these things." I held out the big white box to her. She made no move to take it. It was heavy so I couldn't keep holding it. I dropped the box to my lap.
Refusing to look at me, Carolyn continued as if I hadn't said a word to her. "It's good that he left, your friend," she clarified. "He didn't seem to fit in with us.” Who knew what Tucker had told her.
"Carolyn," I started again, but she just talked right over me.
"How is that afghan going? I was over at the condo the other day and saw you'd taken it down. Did you finish it? I think it would make a great Christmas gift for Tucker. Something you made in remembrance for Will."
I'd forgotten she had keys to the condo and it was a little weird that she'd gone in there without telling me. But this too was part of my own weakness. I'd relied on my family too long, not picking up the reins of my own life. This was going to be so hard. Rubbing my forehead, I thought about the best way to make it clear to her that whatever dreams she had for me and Will or me and Tucker weren't ever going to come true. "I'm in love with him," I finally said.
"Oh, I know. We all love him." she said, deliberately misunderstanding. "I guess that's why it's so hard to have his things in your home?" She nodded toward the box on my lap. "I just know you'll regret it if you give them away."
"I'm not giving them away." I told her softly. "I'm returning them to you. I know you'll treasure them, but it just isn't right for me to have all these things."
The flags, the medals, his uniforms. I couldn't keep those things and go to Gray with an open heart. He was a good man and an understanding one, but these things were better off with Will's family. I knew it and I think Carolyn knew it too even if she didn't want to acknowledge it. I had my own Will treasures. The stuffed animal he'd won for me at the school carnival. The tickets to our senior prom. Pictures. Those were the mementos of our life together. The medals and honors represented Will's life in the Army and I felt like they were better off with his mother than with me.
"I love you, Carolyn. I loved Will. He'll always be with me but I'm ready to love again. I hope you understand that."
Silent tears dripped down her face but she acted like it was nothing. "Tucker's been making noise about going back to law school. Wouldn't that be nice?"
He'd done no such thing, but I lied again. "Yeah, that would be nice." It wasn't ever going to happen.
"I was thinking of the time that you and Will handed out candy at Halloween. You dressed up like Gomez and Morticia Addams."
I laughed a little. "And Tucker was Lurch. And all the kids said I was too short to be Morticia."
"You looked so beautiful on your wedding day."
Carolyn's unhappiness was breaking my heart and I did love her, like a second mother. For a moment, I felt myself weaken. Would it be so wrong to stay here and sit in this sunroom and talk about Will for the rest of my life? But my heart was pulling me in the direction of California. Will was my past and Gray was my future.
I stood up then, leaving the box on the table. She didn't even look at me, and the guilt of loving someone other than Will threatened to sweep me under. If I stayed another minute, my resolve might break. "I'm sorry, Carolyn. I loved being an Anderson. I loved being Will's girl. But it's time for all of us to move forward."
I waited for a response but got nothing. Sighing I turned and started to leave. Her whispered words barely reached me. "I want you to be happy too."
"Thank you," I choked out. She didn't say another word, didn't turn toward me, so I left her in the sunroom, the sunlight not quite reaching her sofa, her tea untouched.
I wiped away my tears with the pads of my hands and walked toward the kitchen. Donna was standing up, either by some sixth sense recognizing something was wrong or because she'd been eavesdropping. I didn't care which. "She's gonna need something."
"I know just the thing," Donna said and then patted me on the shoulder. Pulling me in for a hug, Donna whispered. "You're doing the right thing. This family's going to be all right."
Maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't but as my mom had said to me, the Anderson family's emotional health wasn't my responsibility.