The ride home is every kind of pleasant all stuffed into a single moment. Seth has his fingers woven into my own as he brushes his thumb over the sensitive skin near my wrist. Hip-hop tunes filter in as background noise, and my chest feels full of contentment. Once again, he's got the window down, so conversation is basically impossible. It's like a hurricane in here, but my hair couldn't possibly get any wilder, so I just let it be. I'm happy to sit in these whirlwinds of bliss.

It's almost incredible to look at where my life is right now. I've lost my mom, and yet, I feel full. I wish I could say that the pain is gone. I wish I could say that I'm simply happy for my mom and that's all that matters. But that would be a lie. I hurt. Badly. I want to rip my mom's angel wings off and force her back to earth. But then again, that would be unfair and highly selfish. So, I'll let her live on in eternal splendor while I hold tight to this new happy that seems to be birthing between Seth and me.

I've been very wrong about us for so long. I assumed that intimacy was all we needed. I looked at the problems in our lives and thought that if we could just touch, kiss, and physically love each other, then we could erase the damage. What a stupid misconception. Love is not about sex. That's what the media tries to teach us. They want that to be the ultimate prize in a relationship or the ultimate prize of life. It's not. Sex doesn't make things better. Physical intimacy doesn't fix brokenness.

It's the emotional level that's important. We experience things so much more powerfully when feelings are involved. A skinned knee is nothing in comparison to the pain of a shattered heart. I'd rather bleed to death than fall into the dark pit of depression and have to live on forever in internal misery.

People speak of hell as being a place of fire and endless torment. I believe it. But, I expect it to be so much more than that. I expect it'll be every level of pain possible: physical, mental, spiritual, emotional. I imagine hell as being a thirsty tongue eager for just one measly droplet of water, an empty stomach that can never be filled, a cloud of gloom seeping through every crevice of your soul. That would be hell. And for a while there, I truly felt as though I was living inside of earth's version of it. I just can't believe it took the death of my mother for me to get my head on straight. I guess hitting rock bottom will do that to a person. It must have been the landing that woke me up.

She died and suddenly I can let go of my fear and be free. I am free to live and love the way I've been aching to for so long. I can act like a fool and I can say what I want because there is no fear of things getting worse. Maybe it's because I feel entitled to it. Like, people understand that if I act a little crazy it must be due to my mom's passing. Maybe I was willing to use that as an excuse, but truthfully, I think I just realized the importance of living. Truly living. It's so much bigger than just a few arguments and misunderstood feelings.

Even in my mom's death, she was teaching me a lesson...

Fix your problems before it's too late.

I lean back into my seat, cherishing the sensation of Seth's fingers squeezed between mine. My eyes drift shut as satisfaction settles into place, bringing with it a wave of weariness. A bed would be delightful, but I've been playing with a new possibility over the last few days, and if I want to make that possibility a reality, then I've got work to do when I get home. No sleep tonight.

We pull into our driveway a few minutes later. The streets are quiet by now, most people home enjoying dinner, but I like the sound of silence sometimes. Stepping out of Seth's truck, I pause to glance up at the star-sprinkled sky. I wouldn't mind spotting a shooting star right now, just something to tell me that life is bigger than me.

But, seeing the massive expanse of blackness above me is enough. I suddenly feel so small and insignificant. And, while that might seem like a sad realization, I'm grateful. I'd hate if I was so important that my little problems impacted the whole world. What a relief that my problems are simply mine to bear. At least I have Seth by my side now and he seems more than willing to help shoulder the burdens with me.

I'm not alone, even in this big world. While I might be only one person on a planet of billions, I still feel valuable. I do have a purpose. Even if that purpose is only to devote myself to Seth and be the best wife I can possibly be... that's plenty of purpose for me.

We step through the front door and I silently make my way to the bathroom where I hastily wash my feet. I might not be the most hygienic person on the planet, but I've always had a thing about dirty feet on a clean floor. It could be because I'm lazy and would hate to have to mop just because I trailed forest debris across my living room, but whatever the reason, I find myself smiling as I dry my feet. I feel so much better once my toes are squeaky clean. It's similar to washing my face. Sometimes just a simple face-washing can make my whole body feel cleaner, and that's how I feel now. Maybe it's a mixture of spending an evening outdoors enjoying my husband, but somehow I just feel refreshed.

I sigh in delight as I hang my towel on the peg and exit the bathroom. I make my way towards the kitchen where I presume Seth is since the light is on. I see his shoulder muscles working as he stands in front of the stove and curiosity takes over. With hushed steps, I slide up behind him and peer around his shoulder—since I'm too short to peer over it.

The smells drifting from the kitchen should have alerted me to what Seth was up to but seeing it only heightens my stomach's desire to be pleased. There, sizzling with a modest amount of butter, is a perfectly toasted grilled cheese sandwich. I'm honestly salivating just looking at the thing.

We eat together in front of the TV as usual. We've still got ourselves squished into opposite ends of the couch but we're comfortable. There's no tension, and when I turn and stretch my legs out, Seth doesn't shy away when my toes graze his pant leg.

This seems to be an improvement, but unfortunately, I still have to break away from our quiet comfort to get some work done. I'd originally planned on getting all our dirty laundry out in the open, but my brain is too tired and I have too much work to do now. I've given myself tomorrow as my deadline and if I want to meet that goal—which I very much want to—then I need to detach myself from the couch and get to it. So, with a yawn, I pull myself upward, collecting Seth's empty plate on my way to the kitchen. I make quick work of washing up the few dishes and then trudge my way out of the kitchen, past the couch, and towards the back doorway.

"Where you headed?" Seth asks just as I'm reaching for the doorknob.

"Got work to do," I grumble, but I see the displeasure my statement brings to his face.

"Mm-Hmm," is his only response, and I stand staring at him for a moment after he returns his gaze to the movie I won't be able to finish watching.

"I promise not to make a habit of this again," I explain lamely, but Seth just shrugs before turning to face me, one arm slung over the back of the couch as his eyes pin me in place.

"You know," he says, "I'm trying to make an effort here. I'd be nice if you at least met me halfway."

I knew this would happen. I've almost been waiting for it because it's no lie that I've been less than enthusiastic about our relationship these days. To go from being the one desperate to hold us together, it seems weird to suddenly feel so lethargic when it comes to saving our marriage.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, my hand still resting against the doorknob. "I'm just trying to figure myself out right now. But, I swear I have good cause for ditching you tonight."

There's a moment of silence, but eventually, Seth nods. Just as he's turning back towards the screen, he mutters, "Prove it," and while it could be taken as a challenge, I don't miss the slight smirk crinkling his eyes playfully.

I almost breathe out a sigh of relief. At least I haven't lost all chances with him. I still have time left, and hopefully, what I have in mind will be enough. If so, things could be blossoming between us in no time. I just hope my plan is successful, and I'm starting to think that it's fairly close to impossible for it not to be.

I spend the rest of my evening in the shed, and I can almost pretend that our lives have returned to normal. No marriages have been trashed, no lives have been lost. We're all just living our lives the way we were meant to be. Once again, I'm pretending, and I know it's about time that I pull my head out of my butt and face the truth. Seth and I need to dedicate some precious time to each other in order to get back what we've lost, and I need to recognize my mother's loss. By tomorrow, I'll be taking a step towards fixing both issues. I think it's about time I owe my sweet Daddy a visit. I haven't abandoned him, but I have avoided talk of my mom any chance I've gotten. Though I'm glad to offer my father company and chat about life, I've neglected to give him what his heart needs...

Someone to talk to.

I know that if it's true for me, then it must be true for him as well. He needs someone he can spill his emotions to. He needs someone who will listen and empathize completely. That person has to be me. Hope has been back at school for two weeks now, so my dad no longer has her company, which means I'm the only other choice. And, for the first time in nearly a month, I'm okay with that. I want to be that shoulder he can lean on. I'm just ashamed that it's taken me this long to stop groveling selfishly in the shadows while other people suffer around me. I've been a fool and I'm sick of myself for it.

Starting tomorrow, I'll be turning a new leaf.

Welcome home, Mercy Vans.

———

It's nearly midnight by the time I complete a set of end tables that I've been working on the past four days. I know I'll still have a few finishing touches to do tomorrow, but for now, they'll have to wait. I'm beyond exhausted and I fear that if I dedicate any more time to this project my weariness would be the cause of some stupid mistake. I'm not willing to take that chance because I'd hate to have to start from scratch on these stupid tables. Eager to seep into my bed, I trudge through the back door and slip into my bedroom. Only, it's not my bedroom anymore.

Since my mom passed away, Seth has been joining me in bed. Nothing happens apart from purely sleeping, but the fact that he's here, eyes closed, breathing heavy, makes my heart smile. He's right where he's supposed to be. I've longed for him to choose to make himself a part of my life again, and he finally is. I know it won't be long before we can call ourselves husband and wife again in the truest sense, but for now, I'm content to be friends. We have to start somewhere, and I know the beginning would be the safest place to start.

Washing up quickly, I slip out of my grungy work clothes and fling them into the corner of the room. Not bothering with pajamas, I slide into bed and breathe a sigh of contentment. Turning on my side, I let my eyes wander over Seth's face. He looks so sweet... and so devastatingly handsome that my fingers actually ache with a need to touch his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips. I just want to know that he's real.

I want to invade his personal space and wrap myself inside of his arms, but I don't. Instead, I continue to watch him until my eyes lose control and slowly drift shut. And, as I fade into unconsciousness, one thought plays over and over in my mind.

Welcome home, Seth Vans.

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