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Chapters (67)
  1. Big Boned
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. One Month Later
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Copyright
  63. About the Publisher
  64. Backad 1
  65. Backad 2
  66. Backad 3
  67. Backad 4

“Yes,” he said, sounding distant and far away, as if he wasn’t really listening.

“Well, you know what that means, right?”

“No,” he mumbled, not really paying me much attention.

“Look at me, Zac.” I moved in front of him so that I could get his attention. “Do you know what me going to Paris means?”

“That you won’t be home,” he replied.

“That’s right, I won’t be home that much. But I will come home on the holidays,” I said. “And we can Skype as much as you like.”

He looked at me for the longest time, and like most times, I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Who will give me my water bottle when you’re gone to make sure I don’t get dehydrated?” he asked. And that was it, my heart felt like it broke into a million tiny little pieces. This wasn’t his fault, though. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t express himself the way I wanted him to. And maybe that was selfish of me to expect. But I couldn’t help it: I wanted him to throw his arms around me and hug me. I wanted him to tell me how much he would miss me and how much he loved me. But instead, he folded his arms over his chest and looked up at the turbine.

“Mom will give you your water bottle,” I said, fighting back the tears. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I only like the blue one,” he said, still looking up.

“I know, I’ll make sure she has the blue one.”

I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, not angrily, but because the feeling irritated him and he was utterly engrossed in the thing in front of him.

I walked away from him a little; I didn’t want him to see that I was crying now. I was crying because I would miss him so much. I was crying because I loved him more than anything, and even though I knew he loved me, I knew he would never really be able to show me that, like other people did. I was crying because I also knew that my mother had been right. I’d been living my life for him for many years now, and as hard as it would be, I needed to let go.

I needed to learn to live without him. All these years I’d thought that I had given more to Zac than he’d given to me, that I’d been the one looking after him. But in reality, I’d needed him just as much as he’d needed me, and in many ways, he’d been looking after me too.

One Month Later