Not Looking For Love: Episode 1 by Lena Bourne Read Free Book Online

alive, and not falling apart into millions of tiny pieces that will get lost, get blown away, disappear into the darkness, never get put back together right.  
    I climb out of the pool and look up toward my mom's bedroom. The translucent curtains are blowing in and out of her window. She's awake. I wish I could feel some of the anger I used to feel at her diagnosis back in the beginning. Anger at her for not getting herself checked out properly, anger at the doctors for not knowing what they're doing, at myself for not insisting she go see them earlier, for moving away, going to school, building a new life there, and not spending enough time with her. None of that matters anymore, and anger would be pointless. Mom's death is unavoidable now. There's nothing anyone can do. Nothing I can do. The anger is a distant whisper, less than a memory, swallowed by the darkness along with all that could be but never will be.
    I'm at her bedroom door, and I don't remember entering the house, don't remember climbing the stairs.
    "You're all wet, Gail," she chides me, but I kneel beside her bed anyway, my face buried in the palm of her hand. I can't stop the tears, not today. Today I'm not the Gail crying by my mom's bed. I'm standing off to the side, by the door, watching a messed up girl doing things that will make everything worse. But that Gail rarely visits anymore, and she has faded away now. I don't see her anymore and don't see myself. She's gone, swallowed by the sand, merged with it, unrecognizable, probably gone forever.
    My mom strokes my hair and lets me cry. Her breaths are uneven, raspy, grating.  
    "Why don't you go change, and we can finish the movie?" she asks after a while. "I feel so much better today. Maybe we can even have dinner together later."
    Her voice is soft and barely above a whisper, but the tone is clear and commanding. I believe her, and I obey her. Because I have to. I have no power to make choices for myself anymore.
    On the screen, the ship is breaking, going down. I don't want to see what happens next and don't want to watch the pointless, unavoidable ending. Don't want to watch the dark green icy water sucking away hope and love. It reminds me too much of my own life, the abyss sucking me in, unavoidable and vast.
    "Didn't Gran know someone who was on the Titanic?" I ask.
    Mom nods and turns to me. "Yes, Helena Lancaster. She survived though, but her mother didn't." She smiles, a mischievous light playing in her watery, pale eyes. "Imagine Helena meeting someone on the ship, someone like this Jack. This could be her story."
    I chuckle. "I'm sure Gran would have a lot to say about that. You know, her 'old money and the help' line."
    I still can't believe Scott heard that. Or that it should bother him.  
    Mom rolls her eyes. "Gran will have her little fictions. But she didn't exactly follow her own advice, now did she?"
    "What are you talking about?" I turn off the volume and sit up straighter.
    "She never told you about Edmond?" Mom asks.  
    I shake my head. "Who was he?"
    "He was the groundkeeper's son. They had a fling. She even tried to elope right before World War II broke out. Edmond died in Normandy, I think."
    I'm still picturing Gran galloping on one of her horses with Edmond, her forbidden love right beside her. Moonlight spills on them as they race   toward a happy, loving future together. The image of him dying under machine gun fire makes my breath catch in my throat.  
    "That's so sad," I manage.
    "It is. But their love affair was over by then. Her parents put a stop to it. Gran was already married to your grandfather by the time news of Edmond's death reached her." Mom coughs, spraying my hand with spittle. I reach over and massage her back. Her skin is so loose I can feel every bump of her spine, her ribs. This is sad.  
    "Strange that she would still insist that the high born are better than the poor then," I say.
    "Do you think so?" Mom asks, her breathing under control again for