41. Now
Now: February 20th
I t’s been almost two weeks since I left the hospital, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. My new medication seems to be working out okay, and so far no side effects that I’ve noticed. If anything starts to seem off I’m sure Wendy or Dad will be the first to notice. They are both watching me closely, making sure that I’m okay. It’s nice having them care so much, but at times I need my own space. Maybe it’s time to start revisiting that idea once again—the idea of me finally moving out and living life in the real world, without my dad a couple of rooms over from me.
I don’t have a clue what it’s like, but I honestly think I could handle it. I’d move somewhere close, obviously, so I could still see Dad as often as I wanted or whenever he needed me. But we both have been living separate lives for over a decade now, the only thing we share when it comes to this house is occasional meals at the table. Dad does just fine on his own, and if things continue to progress with Deb, like I hope they will, he might eventually want her to move in with him. I don’t want to be in the way of that happening. I’ll add that to my to-do list for this weekend. Start looking for a new place to live.
I’ve replayed my conversation with Marvel many times in my head. She hasn’t shown back up at my doorstep, and it’s still been radio silence from Denver’s end—not that I expect anything else from him. Not really. I checked my phone a few too many times and had messages I typed out and ready to send before I’d chicken out and delete the text. I don’t want to push him. If and when he’ll ever be ready to speak to me again, it has to be on his terms. He’ll have to come to me this time.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wendy asks as she pulls into the familiar parking lot of Grieve and Grow. It feels like it’s been ages since I’d run out of here during that first meeting. I haven’t braved coming back, and tonight is the first night in months. I’m also nervous about how Denver will react. Did Marvel tell him I would be here, or will my presence be a complete surprise? Well, I’ll find out soon enough.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the sides of my legs and take a deep breath and exhale. “Yes. I need to do this.”
I ended up telling Wendy everything after I’d melted down two weeks ago. She’s my closest friend, she deserves to know the truth. She took it all rather well and held me in her arms after I was finished. She made us both steaming cups of hot tea with honey and we stayed up past midnight talking about it all. I don’t deserve her friendship one bit, but she’s stuck by my side the longest. She didn’t run when I told her the truth.
“Okay, hun. I’ll be right here when it’s over, okay? And if you end up needing to leave sooner because it’s too much, I don’t mind taking you home earlier. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” Tears brim her eyes, and I lean across the seat to steal a hug from her. I’m getting a little better at the whole affectionate thing. It’s warm and inviting and says everything that I can’t get out right now.
I push open the car door and climb out. I’m going in, I can do this. I can do the hard things. No running.
The room is already full by the time I grab a few refreshments and find a seat. Quickly scanning the room, I recognize most of the same people from before. I’m just missing the one familiar face I was hoping to see. Denver isn’t here yet. There’s a chance he isn’t coming at all. I don’t know how much he knows, but Marvel said that he needs to hear the rest of my story, and I think she’s right. I only gave him the second half of it. But the first part matters, too. He’s not the only person that lost someone that day, and he doesn’t know that.
Sam, the leader, sits down in her chair at the front of the circle and opens us up with a prayer. Did she pray last time? I must have missed it somehow, been too much in my head. I pop a piece of a cookie in my mouth to help calm my nerves and keep my hands busy. It’s a short prayer, yet somehow it helps my body relax. I let it. I let her words about hope, peace, and courage wash over me, and suddenly I don’t feel as afraid as when I first walked through the doors.
As soon as she says amen she starts going around the room and asking if anyone has anything new in their lives to share, any updates, or anything at all they’d like to talk about. The room is mostly quiet, but a few speak up. Someone named Pam shares about her husband that passed away earlier this year and how, for the first time, she was able to visit his grave. Somebody else says they lost their last grandparent and how that’s been hard, but they are planning to take a family trip to their grandma’s favorite place when she was a kid.
I swallow down the last little bit of nerves that are fighting their way up to the surface. I force them down and clear my throat. I’d like to go next.
I start with my name, my real one this time. Phoenix Jo Larrs. I tell everyone that’s the name my mother gave me. Hearing that name now is painful, it brings up so many memories that I’ve tried to erase. Yet, I can never seem to. As I’m saying it again out loud, I wonder if it’s the name I should be using. I’ve run from my own roots for so long, and I’m sick of running. Tonight will be a new starting point.
Sam lets me continue, so I do. I tell the entire group about my mother. About her highs and lows, her good days, and her bad days. I tell them about how she had always been the love of my life. I loved her with my entire being, and one day she ripped that all away from me—without my permission. The day she took her own life, she took a large chunk of me with her. I have never been the same, everything has changed. Dad is all I have left, and we barely speak to each other.
I decide not to share what else happened that day after I found my mother. Maybe not all secrets are meant to be shared, especially in a room full of strangers. I don’t know who else may have lost someone in that way. Besides, the one person I wanted to hear all of this isn’t here. He already knows the rest of the story anyway. He ran away as soon as I confessed. I’d been hurt, but I also expected that very thing to happen.
Sam thanks me, and I see several other heads nod in agreement after I finish.
“That was very brave of you to share with us, Nicki. How are you doing with all of this today?” she asks me .
“I’d like to start going by Phoenix again if that’s okay. I shouldn’t have taken that away from her, even though she isn’t here anymore.”
I’ve blamed her for sixteen years for taking a huge piece of me. Maybe that part of me will always be with her. But I’m not faultless either.
“Absolutely. I think she’d love that.”
“And to answer your question. Honestly? Most days I don’t feel like I’m okay. Most days I feel like I’m drowning. I miss her so much… everyday. But I am also grateful to still have my father with me. He’s been so supportive of my writing career, and he really has taken great care of me. We became each other’s everything when we were left with nothing. When I believed I deserved nothing after what I’d done. But if my father could still love me despite my past mistakes, maybe someday I can too.
“He’s happy again, and I’m working towards that myself. One day at a time, baby steps. It’s been sixteen years, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. I will never stop loving her, even after what she did.” And for the first time, I realize that’s the truth.
Sam nods and thanks me again and they move on towards closing the meeting. I fight the urge to get up and leave. This was my fifth time telling my story in a week, and I was beginning to feel its weight. It was a lot. But I push through until the end before standing back up.
I help the rest of the group stack their chairs, overcome with emotion, yet relieved for having opened up again. The more times I retell my story, the easier it’s starting to get. Little by little. Maybe this won’t be the last time either. I can’t help but feel disappointed that Denver hadn’t heard any of it. The one night he was supposed to be here, he hadn’t shown up, and now my chances of talking to him are running out. If he is even willing to listen to me. His words replay in my head like a broken record, I’m sorry I met you.
I grab my things and walk out of the double doors. I don’t see the person standing right outside the doors and slam into their chest. On instinct, my palms instantly fly up in front of me, and I quickly realize my hands are on this man’s chest. My gaze flicks up to the person towering over me and when I realize who it is I gasp. It’s Denver. He came ?
“Hey,” he offers.
I search his eyes for anger or hatred at running into me like this, but I don’t find either. Instead, I find something else. It’s always something else. If I’m not mistaken it looks a little more like he’s glad it was me that had run into him. Is he? No, that couldn’t be. He said he wished he never met me. I remove my hands from his chest and stare down at the ground.
His hand reaches out and cups my chin, lifting my face back towards his. He’s not a lot taller than me, and I can feel his warm breath against my face. Warm and sweet, like honey and cinnamon, and it makes my whole body tingle.
“Denver… what are you doing?” I barely breathe out. Suddenly, I feel a little self-conscious. Here we are in a public place, and anyone could walk right out of those doors any minute. He doesn’t seem phased one bit.
“Is it true? Is all of that about your mom true?” he asks me, gently.
How much did he hear? Had he been here the whole time? Why hadn’t he come in?
“Yes. It is.” I say, unsure of what’s about to happen next.
His eyes search mine and his soften. A complete turnaround from our last encounter at the hospital. I’m not understanding.
“I am so sorry… Really, I am. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh and step slightly away from him, giving us both a little space.
“I’m honestly not sure… I think because I thought you needed to know the other part first. I had just made the connection to your sister earlier that evening, and it was eating away at me. I couldn’t continue being with you knowing something that big ab out that night. I’m so sorry that I blindsided you with that, but you deserved to know… you deserve a lot more than what I can give you,” I say.
“Can we go somewhere else to talk, Phoenix?” he asks, using my full name. He used my birth name, the one my mother had chosen for me. The gesture is simple, yet sweet, and it isn’t lost on me what it means for him to say that. I nod my head yes.
“I just need to let Wendy know, she’s waiting for me outside.” I gesture in that direction and he understands.
“Okay, I’ll wait in my car for you. I won’t run this time,” he says, and I believe him.
I run out to Wendy’s car and fill her in on the latest. She smiles and tells me this is a good sign. I hope she’s right.
I find my way back to Denver’s car while 90s band Keane’s song Somewhere Only We Know plays in my head. Mom is here with me tonight, and I feel it. I look up towards the heavens and whisper, Love you, Mom.