This is the fourteenth part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, and Part XIII before continuing.
“Think this bouquet is big enough?” I ask as I hoist the giant vase of white lilies and roses out of the car.
“I don’t think there’s a bouquet big enough for this situation,” says Mom. “It’s coming out of your allowance by the way.”
“What?”
“It’s the least you could do.”
“How much did it cost?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars!”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down.”
I spend a few seconds moving my mouth soundlessly like a fish taken out of water. She’s right, I can’t be shouting at the doorstep of Addie’s parent’s house. I also can’t process what she just told me without screaming. It’ll take me months to pay that off!
Before I can gather myself enough to come up with a response, Mom rings the doorbell, and the door flings open. Addie’s mom stands there glaring at us.
“You have some nerve,” she says.
“We came to apologize,” I say, holding out the flowers.
She glares at me, and if looks could kill, I would go up in flames.
Fortunately for me, looks can’t kill, and after a minute, she seems to take pity on me as she watches me struggle to hold the heavy vase on outstretched arms.
After a moment of internal deliberation, she lets out a huff of air and takes the bouquet from me as she says, “You might as well come in while I find somewhere to put these.”
“Hannah!” says a man from inside the house.
“I’m sorry, Rick, but we knew we’d have to face them eventually.”
Rick – who I’m assuming is Addie’s dad – looks from his wife to me to Mom and back to his wife before shaking his head and leaving the room.
“I’m sorry about him, but he’s just not-”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” says Mom.
Addie’s mom nods, puts the bouquet of flowers on a table already laden with flowers and fruit baskets, then turns to me and crosses her arms. She doesn’t say anything, but I know this is when I’m supposed to apologize.
I look down, unable to meet her eye. I swallow hard and gather all my strength before launching into my prepared speech.
“I’m really sorry I went so hard on Addie on the socials. I had no idea she was struggling with mental health issues. I was hurt and I lashed out. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I also know there’s nothing I can say that can make this right because nothing can bring her back. I just want you to know how sorry I am, and that, if I could go back in time, I would do everything differently. I would confront Addie in person instead of attacking her online.”
I probably would have killed her myself, but her mom doesn’t need to know that.
My speech delivered, I risk a look up at Addie’s mom and I gasp.
Addie’s mom is standing with one hand over her mouth, eyes shut tight as she tries to hold back her sobs.
Addie is standing next to her. She keeps trying to rest a hand on her mom’s shoulder, but it keeps passing right through. After a few attempts she gives up and just stands there looking sad as she watches her mom trying not to cry.
To be continued…