Chapter 30 #2
Not uncommon, huh? Hearing that turns my stomach uncomfortably to think I’m both incredibly predictable and depressing. It’s also laughable when I remember that I’m only here like this now because I nearly forgot about the whole thing in the first place.
However, all my irritation dissolves with a fizzle at hearing how worried Luke was about me. A wave of added sadness takes its place.
“Sorry.” I close my eyes. “My phone’s on silent. I should have checked it.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Luke says firmly.
“You really shouldn’t have come over,” I repeat, though this time with less bite. The words just sound sad. “I’m no fun to be around when I’m like this.”
Luke withdraws his hand. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel the mattress shift as he stands up, and I hear him walk away.
For a minute, I think this is it. This is the moment when he decides he’s had enough of me, and he’s going to leave.
It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, it’s almost predictable.
These cripplingly low moods have a history of scaring people away.
But then I feel the mattress dip on the other side of the bed, and I snap my eyes open, turning my head to see Luke scooching over until he’s pressed up against my back.
He wraps his arm around my stomach, pulling me closer to his chest, and he presses his head against mine, as if he’s trying to force the dark thoughts away.
“Don’t be an idiot.” His breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine as he settles behind me. He’s clinging to me so tightly that I feel like he’s holding me together. “If I couldn’t handle you at your worst, then I shouldn’t be allowed to see you at your best.”
Something inside me snaps. It’s like a valve in my brain is turned on, letting the tears I’ve held back come to the surface in a powerful wave.
I’m helpless to stop the desperate sob as it breaks through, and I want to crawl out of my skin and bury myself under the earth to hide from it, ashamed for being too weak to keep it at bay.
Luke actually seems relieved as he holds me tighter in his arms. He speaks softly against my shoulder, like he’s soothing a wounded animal.
That’s what I feel like, clinging to him like a lifeline, even as I bury my face in my pillow to hide my shame.
My body is breaking all over. The only thing keeping me from totally falling apart is Luke's hold on me.
I haven’t cried this hard in a long time, especially not in front of another person in god knows how long.
The last one with that privilege was undoubtedly Marcus, though it was years ago, and under much direr circumstances.
But with Marcus, it was different. Our relationship was already rock solid before he had to pick me up off the floor, and no amount of my broken brain shenanigans could threaten that bond.
I never worried that he would think less of me.
I would have expected to drive Luke away with my issues, rather than him wanting to stick around. Yet here he is now, responding to my distress with nothing but comfort and a declaration of his intent to stay with me through it. I don’t know why that feels so significant.
It takes a few minutes of me crying myself out before I can breathe deeply again without gasping for air, and the whole time, Luke rubs his hand over my arm and back in soothing circles. I don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed after a while.
“Feel better?” Luke asks eventually.
“How do you do that?” My voice is raspy.
“Do what?”
“Keep pulling me back from the edge like that.”
Luke is quiet for a moment, but I feel his grip on me tighten ever so slightly.
He sighs deeply. “I recognize the grief you feel as the same in me. I’ve learned how to spot it in the people around me over the years, and I know what I want when I’m in that space.
It’s nice to know you’re not alone, especially when it feels like you are. ”
I roll over until I’m facing Luke, and he gives me a small smile as he puts a hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb over my skin.
As I look into his eyes, I can see there’s no judgment or fear as he gazes back at me—just softness and understanding.
The cracks around my heart begin to mend, easing the tightness in my chest a little more.
“I forgot,” I admit softly, unsure why I feel the need to.
“Forgot what?” Luke’s eyes search my face.
“I forgot what day it was.”
Luke frowns with confusion as he processes the words, but then recognition flashes through his eyes, and I know he understands what I haven’t said.
“Is this the first time you’ve forgotten since it happened?” he asks gently.
I can only nod, feeling my throat go tight as a fresh wave of tears threatens to surface.
Luke looks up at the ceiling, contemplating.
“When my dad died, I was still pretty young. I felt grown up at the time, but I was really just a kid. I loved my dad, despite hating his guts at times, but I wasn’t prepared to lose him when I did.
As you know, my grief took the form of anger.
Anger toward him for dying, anger toward my mother for marrying someone else less than a year later. I was angry at the world.
“That anger followed me for years. It was a constant undercurrent in my life, always there, right beneath the surface. I would lose my temper over the stupidest things, blow up at people who didn’t deserve it…
It wasn’t healthy, but I couldn’t imagine it any other way after a while.
That anger was a part of me. It wasn’t until I left for New York and started a new life that I noticed the anger slowly fading.
Not gone, but easier to live around. I can still find myself there sometimes, as fresh and raw as the day he died. ”
A twinge of complicated emotion flits across his face, his stare distant. It eases more of the ache in my body to hear confirmation that I’m not the only one who carries the weight of the past so heavily on my shoulders. Like I’m not a total fuckup to find myself teetering under the pressure.
“People like to say that time heals all wounds, but that’s not how I see it.
” Luke takes a deep breath. “When someone you love dies, they leave a hole in you that can never be filled. That hole never gets larger, but it never gets smaller, either. No matter how much time passes, it stays there forever, always a part of you. But you grow around it eventually, so it seems easier to live with. Easier to move on from it.”
“Why does it hurt so much to move on?” I ask, my eyes stinging.
Luke looks at me again, a depth of knowing sadness in his gaze. He smiles as he reaches out to take my hand and intertwines our fingers.
“Because admitting that you’ve grown past the pain feels like you’re losing a part of yourself.
It’s normal,” he insists, squeezing my hand.
“You’re not losing anything or leaving something behind.
Your dad’s influence on your life will be with you until the day you die, and his absence will never be completely forgotten, even if it gets easier knowing he’s not here.
Even if you find yourself missing him less and less as time moves on because you’re not thinking about him as much, that’s not a disservice to his memory or how important he was in your life. That’s just how it works.”
“Why does it sound logical when you say it?” I huff a disbelieving laugh.
Luke’s smile grows. “When you’re not in the proper frame of mind, it can take an outsider to help you remember.”
I suppose he’s right. It’s not like this is new information after my years of extensive therapy, but amidst my panic and paralysis, I couldn’t remember any of it. Now, I’m wondering if Luke hadn’t come over when he did, how long would it have taken me to get back there on my own?
Closing my eyes, I let the truth of Luke’s words wash over me.
Taking stock of where I am and how I feel, I can’t deny that there’s been a shift in a more positive direction.
I’m still exhausted and not back up to par, but at least I’m no longer underwater.
I curl into Luke’s chest, and he welcomes me happily, tangling his fingers in my hair.
It doesn’t take long for me to drift off in the comfort of his embrace.
When I open my eyes again, my room is dark, and Luke is gone.
It’s pitch-black outside, but a glance at my phone tells me it’s only eight o’clock, which means I haven’t been asleep for very long.
Still, I can’t deny how rested I feel for the first time all day.
Something about being in Luke’s arms let me relax enough to actually sleep, even if he chose to leave once I’d finally gotten there.
I don’t know if I should be shocked that he left without even saying goodbye, despite the circumstances.
The nagging thought that this is somehow my fault doesn’t have as much bite when I know this has been Luke’s habit for almost as long as we’ve dated.
But would one night have honestly killed him?
Suddenly, there’s a noise downstairs, like something metallic crashing to the floor, and I sit up in bed with a start.
My first thought is that there’s an intruder in the house, but that seems too unlikely to be realistic.
There’s nothing but cows and cornfields surrounding me, and the house bears no obvious signs of wealth to make it a target for thieves.
But if it’s not a burglar…does that mean Luke didn’t leave after all?
I peel myself out from under the covers with some effort, and after a quick pitstop to the bathroom to pee and splash some water on my face, I head downstairs to check it out.
Sure enough, Luke is in the kitchen, and that knot in my chest from thinking he’d left eases at the sight of him.
It’s quickly replaced with concern as I walk into the room, and a wall of confusing odor hits me.
He’s clearly cooking something, but the smell is indistinguishable other than a whiff of burning.