What Comes After

by Toppen, Melissa

  “But you’re chasing a ghost. Finley isn’t coming back, no matter how much you wish it so. You owe it to yourself to see where this new relationship might go. You said you agreed to something casual, so keep it casual and let it develop naturally. If it’s there, then you’ll know and if it’s not, then you move on.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “There’s nothing simple when it comes to matters of the heart, but some things are easier than others and this is one of them. All you have to do is open yourself up to the possibility. When you’re ready, you’ll know.”

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t know much these days.” I snort.

  “I’m sure it feels that way sometimes, but Abel, you are stronger than you think you are. And you will get past this. Maybe in six months, maybe in five years, but one day, one day you’re going to wake up and the pain will be gone. Not the memory of what you lost or how it felt, but that gut-wrenching pain. The kind that makes it hard to get out of bed in the morning. That pain will eventually fade, and when it does, you’ll find your place again. That much I can promise you.”

  “When did you become so smart?”

  “Become? Pretty sure I was just born this way.” She laughs, patting the back of my hand. “I’ve gotta get back to work. Poor Olivia over there looks like she’s about to blow a gasket.” She gestures to the young girl running around the dining room like she’s got mini rockets attached to her feet. “You’ll be okay?”

  “I will,” I reassure her.

  “If you need to talk more, you know where to find me. I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

  “I know, thank you, Aunt Claudia.” I watch her slide out of the booth, her lips hitting the side of my head moments later.

  “I love you, Abel. I promise, you’ll get through this.”

  “Love you too.” I smile, watching her take off toward the kitchen.

  ——

  My phone ringing abruptly pulls me from sleep. I groggily search for the device on my nightstand, swiping my finger across the screen and pressing it to my face without even looking at who is calling.

  “Hello,” I grumble into the phone.

  “Abel, it’s Chuck.” My eyes pop open and I’m suddenly wide awake.

  “Chuck. What is it? Did you find her?”

  “I did. She popped up on my radar yesterday when she was booked in Rock Hill, South Carolina.”

  “Yesterday? And you’re just now calling me?” I don’t try to hide the irritation in my voice.

  “I had to be sure we had the right Cherie Holt before I contacted you.”

  “So, does this mean you’re sure it’s her?” I ask, careful not to be too hopeful.

  “It’s her, man. I cross referenced her information with what I have on Finley. This is her mom.”

  My heart thuds so loudly against my ribs I can hear the sound in my ears. We finally found her. After three long years we’ve finally found Finley’s mom.

  When I first had my P.I. friend, Chuck, look into her, he wasn’t hopeful that we’d find her. She jumped addresses so often and never held a job, and if she did, she was paid under the table. So tracking her down led to dead end after dead end. So, we stopped looking and Chuck put a flag on her name so that if she was picked up by police or brought to court on any legal charges he would be notified. Looks like our waiting game has finally run its course and Chuck’s patience has paid off.

  “Fuck, man. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You thanked me by paying me, remember? I’ll text you the address of the station where she’s being held. They got her on drug charges, but I don’t know how long they’ll hold her. If you’re going to see her, now’s the time to do so. If you wait too long you might miss your window.”

  “Send me the info. I’ll leave today,” I tell him, thanking him again before quickly ending the call.

  I pull up Claire’s number and hit call, and it rings twice before she picks up.

  “Good morning.” I hear the smile in her voice.

  “Claire, we found her. Finley’s mom. Chuck found her.”

  “What?” She sounds as shocked as I feel. Neither of us ever really thought this day would come.

  Finley had chosen not to tell her mom she was dying. That was a choice she had the right to make. But after she was gone, I felt like I had to let her know. She was a piece of shit mom who cared more about drugs than her own daughter, but at the end of the day she was still her mom. I can’t help but feel like a small part of her still cares and deserves to know that her daughter is gone.

  Claire agreed with me and together we started the process of trying to track her down. I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by going to see her, but I know I have to.

  “She was arrested on possession in Rock Hill, South Carolina. Chuck says he doesn’t know how long they’ll hold her, so we need to go now.”

  “Now, as in today?”

  “Now as in now. Can you get off work?”

  “I’ll call in sick if I have to. There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone.” She doesn’t hesitate. “Why don’t you start packing and I’ll get online and see what flights I can find. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something.”

  “Sounds good.” I end the call, throwing the covers back before quickly climbing out of bed.

  ——

  Peyton: Are you free tonight? Henna is staying at Aaron’s house. Thought maybe we could order pizza and watch a movie...among other things.

  I read Peyton’s message as I sit in the airport terminal with Claire waiting on our flight to be called. She was able to get us plane tickets for four o’clock in the afternoon. In just a few short hours we will be in South Carolina. I’ll be in Finley’s hometown for the first time ever. A part of me hopes it will make me feel closer to her, though I know it probably won’t. Finley hated South Carolina and ran away from it the first chance she got. She ran away from her drug addict mother and the horrible environment she was raised in. And here I am, running toward it in an effort to somehow reconnect with her.

  I stare at the message for a solid two minutes before deciding to text her back.

  Me: Sorry, wish I could. Had to leave town unexpectedly. I’ll text you when I’m back in Chicago.

  Her response comes almost immediately.

  Peyton: Oh, okay. No problem. I hope everything is okay.

  Me: Everything’s fine. I just had something come up that I have to take care of.

  Peyton: Do you know when you’ll be home?

  Me: Not sure yet. Could be a day. Could be a few. I won’t know until I get there.

  The dots bounce across my screen for several moments and then disappear, like she was typing something but changed her mind. They reappear again after a few seconds before her next message fills the screen.

  Peyton: Be safe. Text me when you’re home.

  Abel: Will do.

  I lock my phone and let out a hard breath, shoving the device into my bag.

  “Everything okay?” Claire nudges my shoulder with hers.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “Was that Peyton?” she asks knowingly.

  “Yeah.”

  “I like her.” She smiles.

  “Yeah, me too.” I shrug like it’s nothing.

  “She seems like someone that would keep you on your toes. You need someone like her in your life.”

  “Why, when I have you?” I divert, not wanting to get into this with Claire right now.

  I need to figure out what the hell it is we’re really doing and how I feel about it before I share it with Claire. Talking to my aunt is one thing. I’m not ready to have to answer a ton of questions I’m sure Claire will have when I’m not sure I have any answers to give.

  “Ha. Ha. Aren’t we the funny one today?” She crinkles her nose at me.

  “I’m always the funny one,” I counter.

  “You wish.” She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m trying really hard
not to be offended right now,” I tell her on a laugh.

  “But it’s working as a distraction, isn’t it?”

  “So that’s what you’re doing? Trying to distract me?” I give her a disbelieving look.

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “Or maybe I’m trying to let you down easy because really, Abel, you aren’t that funny.”

  “You’re lucky I love you, Claire Roberts.”

  “You’re lucky I love you, Abel Collins,” she fires back.

  Before I can think of a witty comeback, our flight number is called and everything I’ve been trying so hard not to think about comes boiling back to the surface.

  The questions that have sounded over and over in my head since I received Chuck’s call this morning.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  What if I get there and she’s gone?

  What if she’s even worse than when Finley left?

  What if she’s better and Finley missed it?

  That last one I seriously doubt considering she was arrested on drug possession. But there’s one question that sounds louder than all the others. The one that’s been eating at me all day.

  Would Finley be okay with this?

  She made her wishes known before she died. She had no desire to see or contact her mom, even in her final days. I just don’t know if it’s that she really didn’t want her mom to know or if it’s that she didn’t want her mom to give her one last chance to disappoint her.

  Either way, there’s no going back now. I’ve committed to seeing this through and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  “You ready?” I look up to see Claire is already standing, her carryon bag slung over her shoulder.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I push out of the chair, grabbing my bag off the floor before following her to the loading gate.

  ——

  We arrive in Rock Hill just after seven in the evening. It’s muggy and much warmer than I expected it to be. The drive to the police station has been a quiet one. I think Claire, like myself, is nervous about what we’re going to find once we arrive.

  When the Uber slows outside of the police station, I’m not sure if I want to get out or to tell him to drive me back to the airport. Claire doesn’t give me the chance to choose because the moment the car stops she’s climbing out.

  “Well, this is it.” She steps up next to me as soon as I exit the car.

  “This is it.”

  “It’s now or never.” She loops her arm through mine and together we make our way into the police station.

  We have to jump through a few hoops in order to get to see Cherie. One of which involves Claire lying and saying she’s her daughter and I’m her son-in-law. I didn’t feel good about it, but it wasn’t all a lie. Technically, I really am her son–in-law, although it feels weird to think that when I’ve never met the woman.

  We’re taken to a nearby room and have to wait nearly thirty minutes before a knock sounds against the door. My stomach twists into tight knots as it swings open and an officer steps inside, followed by a woman I’d never guess as Finley’s mom if I didn’t know otherwise.

  She looks nothing like her daughter. Where Finley was dark hair and perfect skin, her mother is gray, wrinkled, and severely strung out looking. She looks at Claire first and then her eyes move to mine. When she meets my gaze, it takes everything in me not to lose the contents of my stomach. Her stare is vacant, detached, like she wouldn’t know who we were even if she actually knew us.

  I know instantly that coming here was a mistake.

  “You have ten minutes,” the officer informs us once Cherie is seated at the far end of the table, caddy corner from both Claire and I who are sitting on opposite sides.

  The door slams closed, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

  “Do I know you?” Cherie finally speaks, her voice strained and hoarse.

  “Cherie, I’m Claire Roberts. I’m your daughter, Finley’s sister,” Claire starts, approaching her cautiously.

  “Finley.” A flash of recognition crosses her face before the blank stare returns.

  “Yes, Finley,” Claire continues. “This is her husband, Abel.” She gestures to me and the woman’s eyes slide in my direction again.

  “My Finley isn’t married.” She narrows her gaze at me.

  “She did get married.” Claire draws her attention back to her.

  “Where is she? Where’s my daughter?” Her voice goes up and she starts looking around the room like someone is going to jump out of the walls and attack her.

  “That’s why we’re here, Cherie. We’ve been looking for you for a very long time. We wanted to tell you sooner, but we didn’t know how to find you.”

  “Tell me what?” she barks, growing irritated. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  “If you’d let me, I’m trying to explain.” Claire’s patience is the thing of legends. I can’t even open my mouth because if I do, I might lose my shit. “Finley, your daughter, she passed away three years ago from cancer.”

  This seems to get the woman’s attention and for the first time since sitting down she shows some sort of real emotion.

  “What do you mean she passed away?”

  “She died.”

  “She’s not dead.” She shakes her head. “What kind of game are you trying to play? Who sent you?”

  “No one sent us. And I’m not playing a game. It’s true. She came to live with me in Chicago. She met Abel and fell in love. Then she got sick.”

  “You’re lying. Where is my daughter?”

  “I’ve already told you. She’s gone.”

  “She’s not gone.” Cherie smacks the table, the sound echoing off the walls around us. “Why are you lying to me? What do you want?”

  “We don’t want anything!” I explode, not able to hold it in for a moment longer. “Your daughter, the one you didn’t give a shit about. The one you chose drugs over, time after time after time. That daughter.” I make sure I have her full attention before continuing, “She defied all odds. She escaped you and this fucking life.” I gesture around the room. “And she was happier than she had ever been. And do you want to know why you didn’t know she died?” I lean in close but make no attempt to lower my voice. “Because she fucking hated you and she didn’t want you to know,” I seethe, anger pouring out of me like hot lava.

  “Abel.” Claire lifts up in her seat, placing her hand against my chest. “That’s enough.”

  “No, you know what, I knew better than to come here but I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d actually give two shits that your only daughter died. But look at you.” I sneer at her. “You don’t care about anything except when you’re going to get out of here and get your next fix.”

  “Abel.” Claire tries again but I’m not being silenced.

  “You really are a piece of shit,” I spit.

  “Abel.” Claire stands all the way, her voice harsher than I’ve ever heard it before. “I said, that’s enough.” She glares at me and it suddenly dawns on me that I’ve never seen Claire mad before. And damn is she pissed. I’m not sure if it’s at me or Cherie or the situation. Probably a combination of all three.

  I take a deep breath and try to reel myself in for Claire’s sake.

  “I may be all of those things,” Cherie begins, causing Claire to reclaim her seat. “I was a horrible mother. Awful. The absolute worst, but I love my daughter.” Tears well behind her eyes and for the first time I think maybe she’s hearing us. “I deserved the chance to say goodbye.”

  “Well, your daughter didn’t think you did,” I respond, much calmer.

  “Maybe she was right.” She shrugs, tears breaking free and streaking down her sunken cheeks.

  “We just thought you should know,” Claire says. “We don’t want anything from you. We aren’t here for any reason other than to share this information with you. And now that we have, I think it’s time we go.” Claire pushes to a stand. “Abel.” She jerks her head toward the door.

>   “Will you tell her I’m sorry?” Her broken voice halts me as I reach the door. “When you visit her grave, tell her I’m so sorry.”

  “You can tell her yourself,” I say, knowing she never will. Raising my fist, I knock hard on the door. It swings open moments later revealing two officers standing on the other side. “We’re done here,” I tell them, storming out of the room.

  I can’t get out of the station fast enough. I’m so pissed I can’t see straight, yet it’s exactly as I expected so I don’t know why I’m so mad. I knew this was likely how we would find her. I didn’t come here for any reason other than to tell a mother her daughter had died. That’s it. So why do I feel like I’m the one that received the bad news?

  “Abel.” Claire catches up to me outside where I’m pacing the sidewalk, not sure what to do with all this anger.

  “She fucking told us, Claire. She told us what kind of person she was, and we came anyway. I thought I’d feel better. I thought this was the right thing to do. But seeing her.” I gesture toward the station. “Seeing firsthand what Finley grew up with, it makes me fucking sick.” I tug at the ends of my hair.

  “Finley was dealt a shit hand. There’s no denying that. But she didn’t let her childhood or how she was raised define her and neither should you.”

  “I’m not. I swear to God I’m not. I just... Fuck... That woman.” I throw my hands in the air.

  “She’s the worst of the worst. But Abel, we knew that coming in.”

  “I don’t think I realized it would be this bad.” I stop pacing when Claire steps in front of me.

  “I did.” She gives me a sad smile. “And I tried to tell you. But you were so hellbent on doing this for Fin that you wouldn’t hear otherwise. I knew it wouldn’t make you feel better.”

  “So, what? This is your I told you so speech?”

  “This is my, we came here and did what we said we were going to do and now it’s time to close this chapter speech.”

  “Well it’s a shitty speech,” I tell her, her gaze slicing to mine seconds before we both start laughing.

  “And to think I said you weren’t funny.” She bends over, holding her stomach as laughter rumbles through her.