I hear her deep intake of breath. “Life sucks ass,” she says. I can hear the emotion in her voice. My best friend is always surprising me. I expected her to go with the norm. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what you are going through.” I cannot tell you how many times my dad and I heard that after… that night. I get that people don’t know what to say in these situations, but my bestie summed it up. Life sucks ass. Neither one of us says anything else. She gets me and I love her for it.

I have no idea how much time passes before I hear her breathing even out. I’m envious of the slumber she has slipped into. I know I will do nothing but toss and turn, so I slip from the bed, trying like hell not to wake her. Grabbing my Kindle off the bedside table, I quietly slip from the room. The apartment is eerily silent and I need noise. The silence makes it possible for the memories to flood my mind, to consume me. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, I burrow into the couch, pulling the chenille throw over me. There is nothing good to watch at this hour, but I don’t care. I just need the background noise, something to fill the quiet void. Skimming through my Kindle, I find my next book boyfriend. I decide on That Girl by HJ Bellus. Nic read it last week and insists I will fall in love with Lincoln. I have no doubt that she’s right. We have the same taste in books.

Settling in, I try to focus on the words, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop my mind from racing, can’t stop the memories from that night. It’s not just the memories of what happened, it’s the worry that I carry with me every single day. I worry I will forget what her voice sounded like, the smell of her sweet perfume, and the way it felt to have her wrap her arms around me and tell me she loved me. I was always close with my mom. The day after prom my junior year, I admitted I had had sex for the first time. I was so afraid she was going to be disappointed in me. I should have known better. She asked me if I was safe and if it was consensual. Looking back now, I can see how she might think it might not have been. I was a sobbing mess when I told her. The fear of seeing the disappointment on her face had me an emotional mess. The guy, my first, his name was Greg and we were not even really dating. He asked me to prom; I accepted. He was one of the nicest guys you will ever meet and it was his first time as well. Neither one of us felt pressured; it was just something we wanted to do. Sort of a rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with kind of moment. One thing led to another, and well… you know. I don’t know why I even told her. Most teenagers go out of their way to hide that kind of information. She and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie and I just blurted it out. The following day, she called and made me a doctor’s appointment so I could start birth control. She talked to me about safe sex and how you should share the act with someone you love. That giving your body to another person was a gift, just like giving them your heart.

The memories and the worry take over again as more tears start to fall. My Kindle long since abandoned. The low filtering of light coming from the morning sun alerts me that it’s time to get my ass in gear. I always meet Dad for breakfast, even though neither one of us have much of an appetite, but that is how we always start this day together. After that night, neither one of us wanted to stay in that house in the same town. Dad rented us an apartment and put the house on the market. He started applying for jobs, and that’s what brought us to our new life. I enrolled in college close to home. I couldn’t muster the courage to go far away. Too much had changed too fast. I needed to know he was close if I needed him. Neither one of us looked back. We left the past and the haunting memories behind us and did the best we could to start a new life. Just the two of us.

I am an only child; my parents struggled with conceiving for several years and two miscarriages before I came along. My mom always used to tell me that she was blessed with a healthy baby girl and that was enough for her. I know she would have loved to have more children, but it just wasn’t in the cards for them. It’s a shame really; a girl couldn’t ask for better parents.

Tears once again begin welling up. I climb off the couch and head for the shower. My only hope is to occupy my mind with mundane tasks to get through the day.

THE ANNOYING BEEP of my alarm blares from the nightstand. I didn’t get in until after three this morning and I have to be back in for a delivery by ten. Dad did this for years, ran the bar on only a few hours of sleep at a time. It pisses me off that I never noticed. I never realized what he did to keep the family business alive. The woman I refuse to refer to as my mother, never had to work a day in her life. He busted his ass to provide for us, to make sure we never went without. It’s been two years, and every time I think about her and what she did, I see red. Looking back, she was always self-absorbed and seemed to be constantly nagging. I, however, was a teenager and she pretty much left me alone. Dad seemed to always be the one she felt needed improvement. It had been that way my entire life, so I never thought much of it. It wasn’t until I learned all of her secrets, until she killed the soul of my father, that I realized she was the devil incarnate.

Kids aren’t supposed to hate their parents. I can tell you that I do. The woman is heartless. Always looking out for number one, manipulating to get what she wants, how she wants it. My dad gave her the world. Would have tried to give her the moon, if she had asked. I’m fucking surprised she didn’t.

When Dad died, Mom was already moved on to her newest conquest. She came home for the funeral and to say she was livid when she found out that everything was willed to me is an understatement. The house, the bar, everything. He left her nothing. I was expecting nothing, not because he didn’t love me, he did. He was the best dad a guy could ask for. No, I didn’t expect it, because he was never able to tell her no. Even though they had been divorced for almost three years, I just assumed it would all go to her.

She whined and tried to make me feel guilty that she had nothing to remember him by. I made sure I reminded her that she had his heart, always did. Her new flavor didn’t like that comment too well. Truth hurts, and it got them both out of my hair. It’s been two years, and I have not seen her since. She calls on occasion and I avoid her calls. Like I said, not a normal relationship, but she is not a mother. Egg donor, that’s how I should refer to her.

I took over the house that I grew up in. I was working construction at the time and quit to run the bar. Cooper’s is now a third generation establishment. My grandfather opened it back in the day and Dad took over when he was about my age. I never really gave much thought to taking over the family business. College wasn’t my scene, so after graduation, I went straight into construction. I enjoyed the work and liked being able to see the end product. When Dad’s attorney told me that he left everything to me, I knew I had to keep the Cooper name alive. I called and gave my boss notice and started on the unknown adventure of bar ownership.

My best friend, Brighton, worked at the same construction company. When I told him my plans to run Cooper’s and asked him to hop on the crazy train, he didn’t hesitate. We’ve had each other’s backs since kindergarten. That’s what family is all about. Too bad the egg donor didn’t get the memo.

Not only did Brighton jump in and help me run the day-to-day operations, he became my new roommate. The house is way too big for just me, and we easily split the expenses. Brighton and I are just two bachelors living the dream.