46. Jillian
FORTY-SIX
Jillian
I’m free of the prison I created for myself. The grief, still there. It will always be there, but it’s no longer center stage. No longer the dominant force in my life.
Little by little, it’s taking a step back, so very quietly, so very slowly, I didn’t notice it at first.
I’m no longer in survival mode. At some point in the last few weeks, I started living again. Being present. And I have Elliott to thank for it. His gentle presence. His patience. And kindness.
“Jillian?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay? I want to laugh, but I don’t. “Yes. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
He places two fingers under my chin and tries to tilt my head up, but I’m not ready to face him yet. “Give me a moment, please.”
His hands resume making circles on my back.
I sigh and push away from him. Lift my eyes to his.
His gaze searches my face. “Did I hurt you?”
I smile. My lips tremble. “Not at all.”
“Why are you crying then?”
“Because.” I fill my lungs with air, then release. “Because I think I had an emotional breakthrough.”
His head tilts. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head. How can I put into words the emotional hurricane I’ve experienced in the last few minutes? “I’m still processing it. You didn’t hurt me. This is good. It’s a good thing.”
He nods. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What did you mean when you said you were free?”
I smile. “I’m free to move forward and be me again.”
Elliott kisses my forehead and pulls me into his chest. His arms hold me to him and he sways left to right and back again like he’s soothing a child. Or perhaps soothing himself.
We walk back to my apartment, Elliott’s arms loaded with the extra food he ordered and insisted I take home. Enough to keep me from cooking for a couple of days and to share with Sheila, too. When we walk upstairs, the house is dark but for the flickering light from the TV. Daisy is thankfully quiet inside her covered cage. Thank goodness for the blackout cover I invested in. We got awakened at the crack of dawn way too many times as Daisy likes to screech good morning with the first sunlight coming through the windows.
Sheila smiles from her spot on the sofa and puts a finger to her lips. Jamie is asleep, his head on her lap and a blanket over him as Sheila gently rubs his back.
Elliott and I tiptoe to the kitchen, and he sets the food on the counter. We go back into the living room. “There’s lots of food if you’re hungry,” I whisper. “From Frijoles.”
Her eyes widen. Sheila is a foodie. “Hell yes,” she whispers back and slowly extricates herself from under Jamie, who settles back into the sofa.
We follow Sheila to the small kitchen, and I set the takeout containers out for her to pick.
Sheila leans over, checking out the many options. “What did you do? Order the entire menu?”
Elliott’s hands go up in a defensive gesture. “She said she wanted one of everything.”
She laughs. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Order all you want, but make sure to bring me the leftovers.”
I grab a plate, utensils, and a paper napkin for her. “Help yourself. Come back tomorrow for lunch. There’s plenty.”
Sheila opens a container and takes a healthy portion of enchilada. “Oh, I will. We should take this to the park and have a picnic.”
“That’s a great idea. Jamie would love that.” I look at Elliott. “Want to join us?”
Elliott’s shoulders slump. “I wish I could. I have a lunch meeting with a client.”
“On a Sunday?” My smile falters. “That’s okay. We can get together later.”
“Text me and send a ping for the location. I’ll make it if I can.”
“I’ll do that. ”
Elliott peers into the living room. “Let me help you with Jamie. I can carry him to his bed.”
I’m about to say he doesn’t have to, but I stop myself. I’m making an active effort to kill old habits that no longer serve me. “Sure, thank you. I’ll get his bed ready.”
I walk to Jamie’s room and move a few stuffed animals to the floor, then pull back the covers. Elliott comes in a moment later with my son snuggled in his arms. The image of Elliott holding my sleeping son washes over me like medicine for a wounded heart. It soothes and heals and warms me up from the inside. I didn’t realize how lonely I’ve been until Elliott stepped into my life and started showing me all the things I’ve been missing in my blind grief.
I tuck Jamie in, securing the blanket around him the way he likes. I kiss him lightly on the head and follow Elliott out of the room, pulling the door behind me and leaving it ajar.
We head back into the kitchen where Sheila has inhaled her enchilada and is stashing all the food in the fridge.
“I’m heading out. I have an early day tomorrow.” Elliott waves goodbye to Sheila. “Thanks for taking care of Jamie.”
This surprises me. That he would thank her.
Sheila smiles and wiggles her eyebrows. “You’re welcome. My girl needs some kid-free fun times. Maybe I should thank you for providing the fun.”
“Sheila!” I whisper-shout.
Elliott laughs and knows better than to say anything to her. He pivots toward the stairs. “Walk me to the door?”
“Sure.”
His hand finds mine and we descend, fingers intertwined, and stop at the door. I nibble on my lip, not sure how to act at this moment. Then force myself to look up at him .
His gaze searches my face in the dimmed hall light. Then he bends and kisses me. It’s a gentle and sweet kiss. His lips pass over mine once, twice, and then stay. His arms go around my waist and he pulls me closer to him, my body molding to his like it belongs. A perfect fit despite our difference in height and size. My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. The kiss turns more intense and yet reserved. He’s holding back. He’s keeping us in check, keeping us from going into the frenzy of before. My body aches for more. I grab at him, clutching at his shoulders, biceps, back. Anything I can get a hold of. It’s not enough.
A whimper leaves my mouth, escaping between kisses, and he responds with a groan. He pulls back, breaks the kiss, drops his head to my shoulder. Our breaths come in short rasps.
This is not the place nor the time. We both know this.
He steps back, kisses my forehead. And steps out into the hot summer night. And with one last look at me, closes the door. I lock it and rest my head on it for a moment.
The place and the time will come soon. We both know this as well.