Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I pulled Madison in for the only hug we ever shared and kissed the top of her head. “You got it, Mad. I’ll be back for fall break and we’ll spend every minute together. I’ll tell my dad to fuck off. You are not a ghost of a person. You are the only thing that makes sense in my fucked-up world. I love you too, babe,” I declared, releasing her.
It felt like goodbye forever.
Turns out, it was.
If I’d known it would be the last time I would see her, I never would have let her go. I was in school for just two weeks when I received the call that Madison had overdosed on prescription pills. To say that I was devastated was an understatement. At my next football game, I ended up beating the shit out of the other team’s quarterback after the game for no other reason besides the fact that I was distraught over having lost Madison. Dad’s words of encouragement were, “Suck it up and move on, Cale. She was just a distraction. Now, you can focus on your career and being a man.”
His words did nothing but fuel my fury and hate towards him. I ended up going back to school for a few more months but flunked out by Christmas. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. The only joy I’d found in my ‘perfect’ life had been Madison. Without her, I felt nothing.
Once my dad discovered what had happened with school, he ‘disowned’ me. Instead of feeling free like I’d always imagined, I felt even worse. I drank way too much and slept around more than I’d like to admit.
Since my money ran dry the day my dad kicked his only son to the curb, I had to figure something out. A local construction company hired me to frame houses. Eventually, I learned a lot more from Ron, the owner. I was always thankful that he took me under his wing, even letting me stay in the garage apartment for practically nothing. Linda, his wife, made sure to always bring me leftovers. With a wink, she’d say, “A good cook’s food should never go to waste.” I spent every holiday with those two. Ron and Linda were what I wished my parents could have been.
For the next few years, I worked hard as Ron’s apprentice, building homes. I didn’t do much for my own enjoyment other than throw myself into my quality of work. Ron always claimed that I worked too hard, but I think he secretly enjoyed it.
One morning, when Ron didn’t show up on the job site, I began to worry. By noon, with no answers to my calls, I was going batshit crazy. Ron was reliable to a fault. I was sick thinking about where Ron was and why he or Linda weren’t answering. When I pulled up to the house, I got an ominous feeling. Everything seemed so serene. The birds were chirping and the sun was shining. Both cars were parked in the driveway. After letting myself in when my repeated knocks had gone unanswered, I bolted up the stairs, calling their names. My heart skipped a beat once I came into their room and realized they had only slept in. But much to my horror, they weren’t sleeping. They both had peacefully passed away in the middle of the night. Later, I learned that it had been from carbon monoxide poisoning. It was damn ironic considering Ron had always insisted that we install the detectors in all of the new homes, never thinking to put one in his own.
After that, I was done. Even when a lawyer called to tell me that I had inherited Ron and Linda’s legacy, I was still madder than hell that they were gone. Every fucking person I’d cared about had died or abandoned me. It was a shitty, lonely life. I figured that whiskey would help to wash away my melancholy thoughts. At least it had worked for Madison and me long ago. A few months after their deaths and many drunken, lonely nights, I decided late one night that I would make amends with my dad since he was all I had left.
Driving drunk was the worst possible decision I could have made that fateful night. I was coasting down the highway, no other cars in sight, drowning in my sorrows, when a faint whisper of a memory said, “Find what makes you happy, Cale. I love you.” I don’t remember the accident—or anything, really, after Madison’s never-forgotten words. They told me that I was in a coma for twelve days and had nearly died. The other car’s driver lived, which saved me from a whole lot of trouble, both legal and mental.
When I was released from the hospital, I made a vow to myself. I was going to do what made me happy. So, in honor of the people I had loved and lost, I decided to dig in and start living my life for me.