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A drunk driver was out on the highway as William was coming home from work late one Friday night. He struck him head on, with no warning. Judith and Hilary got the phone call early Saturday morning. They brought home a few things recovered from the scene of William’s. One of the things was a large, sturdy, metal case. On the outside was a singed red bow and a card. The card said, “To my baby girl, Hilary.” Hilary couldn’t bear to open the case, she could barely open the card. The case stood unopened since her father had passed 8 months ago.
It was now July of 2004. After her father had died in December, Hilary’s mom had started smoking heavier, and drinking more. People had accused her countless times that she was the one that nearly killed William with all of her smoking. She cried countless nights, and now she was hating Hilary for everything. And making Hilary move was the worst of them all.
“Let’s get out of here.” Her mom stammered. “Too many memories.”
Hilary got into their beat up pick-up truck and slammed the door. While she was waiting for her mom, Noah walked up the sidewalk and stopped short of the pickup truck. Hilary looked over at him and opened the door and got out.
She looked at her feet, and he looked at his. Hilary hated the awkward silence going on.
“I promise I’ll call you when I get there.” Hilary nearly whispered. She didn’t even want to talk, the mere thought of being 300 miles away crushed her, and she didn’t want to start to cry in front of him again. Noah looked up.
“Damn, I’m going to miss you, Hil.” He said quietly. For the first time in their year and a half relationship, she was witnessing Noah cry.