Let Love Live
Appointment number three and I have to say, it’s not getting much easier. Though, I’m pretty sure the weekend with Conner is screwing with my nerves, easily complicating this whole situation.
“Dylan,” Dr. Baker calls, stepping into the waiting room. “It’s good to see you.” She extends her arm to the side, allowing me to walk past her and into the office.
Rather than the usual small talk, she gets straight to her pre-planned agenda. “Today I’d like to talk about what happened after Shane died. I think some of your problems may stem from that time.”
Blindsided by her suggestion, it takes me a minute to recover and digest her idea. “Tell me what happened after you found out about his death.”
“Suicide, you mean.” The sarcastic cynicism of my clarification doesn’t go unnoticed on her end.
She nods, “Okay, then. Tell me what happened after his suicide.” Nothing in her tone reacts to the nastiness in mine, making me feel all the more foolish for snapping at her.
Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I apologize. “Sorry.” She nods again, cool and collected, waiting for me to answer her.
Simmering in my own frustration, I bounce my leg in nervousness – or avoidance. “There’s not much to say.” She shoots me a look of disbelief. “Fine.” I return the look. “When I went home, I tried to see Reid. I tried to get to the funeral, but I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? How so?” Dr. Baker rests her elbows on the arms of the chair, settling back comfortably, as if she already knows it will be a long story.
The entire drive home, I kept repeating to myself that it couldn’t be real. Ignoring call after call from my mom and Reid, I knew that he was gone, but somehow by not talking to anyone right away, it made it less real.
The reality was just a delay of the inevitable. I pulled into my driveway, already feeling Shane’s absence. Mom stood in the doorway, arms hugging her waist as she watched me walk up to her.
“Mom,” I croaked, sadness thick in my throat. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shook her head. “No, no… it can’t… please tell me he’s not…”
“Oh, baby.” Sobs overtook her body. She extended her arms and pulled me against her. “I’m so sorry, but he is.” She whispered her words against the top of my head.
“It’s all my fault,” I screamed, pushing away from her. “He’s dead because of me.”
Mom swiped at her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It is not your fault. Not one bit, honey.”
The crippling realization of my new world – a one in which Shane no longer existed – weakened my legs, making standing impossible.
I crashed to the step, the hard concrete scraping at my legs in the process.
It was a welcomed pain, a physical bite I could deal with, vastly different from the emotional grief I couldn’t.
We sat there for a long time – though, to be honest, every minute felt like an eternity.
She rubbed circles on my back and I cried on her shoulder.
Even though she attempted to fill me in on the details of what she knew, I mostly blocked them out.
They didn’t matter. He was gone and there was nothing I could do to change it.
“When is the funeral?” I asked, my voice a shaky mess.
She cradled my face, sweeping my hair out of my eyes. “Tomorrow morning.” She placed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Your father and I will go with you.” There was no point in challenging her. I’d need them by my side, anyway.
At night, I lay in my bed. Restlessness and gnawing pain made it impossible to sleep.
The only thing that brought me any kind of comfort was the quiet lull of Shane’s voice on playing on an endless loop from my phone.
I fell asleep with the phone against my ear, memories of Shane playing through my dreams.
When the phone rang, my heart lurched into my throat. Through blurry eyes, nearly swollen shut from crying, I somehow managed to make out Reid’s number. “What’s wrong? It’s two in the morning?” No greeting necessary.
“Whend’ya get back?” His drunken words slurred over the line.
I sat up in bed, scrubbed a hand over my face. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Not home. That’s for sure.” There was music thumping wildly in the background.
“I’ll come pick you up. Tell me where you are.” I shrugged on a pair of jeans and put on a sweatshirt. As I grabbed my keys off the desk, I heard him mumble something incoherent.
“Reid. Tell me where you are.”
The sounds of whatever party he was at moved in waves through the phone line. “Why did this happen to him? Why Shane?” His words transformed into yelled curses. When his fit of anger had run its course, the sound of retching came across the line. The phone hit the ground.
“Reid, pick up the damn phone. Reid. Reid!” My yelling was pointless. Footsteps approached my door. My father tapped lightly, “Everything okay in there?” He peeked his head in, a worried and tired look plastered to his face.
“Yeah, Dad. Sorry. It’s Reid. He’s drunk somewhere and I was going to go pick him up before he got hurt or in trouble. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“It’s okay.” His face turned into one of concern. “Let me get changed. I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
As he walked out of my room, Reid’s voice came back on the line. “I’m at Nick’s.”
I told him to stay there, that I’d be there in a few minutes to get him.
By the time my father and I arrived at Nick’s, the party had died down to a lull. A few kids were passed out on the lawn, one of whom was Reid. Luckily, as I scanned the cars in the driveway, I didn’t notice Reid’s. At least he was smart enough not to drive there.
Looping an arm under each of his, Dad and I hoisted Reid up from the lawn and managed to slide him into the back seat without too much trouble. It was a silent drive to Reid’s house. When we approached his house, the front porch light flickered on.
Dad pulled into the driveway and Reid’s mom approached the car. She leaned into the driver’s side door. “Thank you, Ben. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all night.” Her voice was hushed and raspy; exhaustion hung on every word.
“It’s no problem.” Dad and I got out of the car and helped Reid up to the front porch. He’d sobered up enough to at least realize he was at his own home. Stumbling warily, he walked through the door and up the stairs, leaving me, Rebecca, and my dad in the driveway.
“Dad, can you give us a minute?” There were some things I needed to say to Rebecca and I didn’t need Dad to be worried about me. “I’ll walk home in a few minutes.”
Dad nodded, offered his sympathies once more, and then pulled away.
Rebecca and I sat on the front porch, saying nothing for the first few minutes, letting the black silence of the late night settle around us.
“He loved you.” Her voice wobbled and she held a hand to her chest. She twisted to face me, a sad, lost look shining in her eyes.
I stammered, “I… he… he told you?”
“There are some things a mother doesn’t have to be told, but yes, he did tell me. But, I knew long before he did.” A weak smile pulled at one side of her mouth.
“I’m so sorry.” My emotions took over; my guilt for not coming back for him roiled dangerously in my stomach. “I should have come back, not shut him out. I could have saved him.”
She shook her head. Tears fell in rivers down her face. “I’m the one who could have saved him, taken him away from here.”
We could’ve sat on that porch for hours, days actually, and traded blame over who could’ve helped him and how we could’ve saved him, but the raw, brutal reality was that we couldn’t.
He was gone and there was no going back.
“I’m going to the funeral. I don’t care that he knew.” I tipped my head to the upstairs window where I knew Shane’s father lay quietly asleep and wholly unaffected by his son’s suicide.
Instantly, her back straightened; her senses went on high alert. “No, you can’t.” She shook her head furiously. “He’ll…” Whatever thoughts were flying through her head couldn’t be formed into words.
“I don’t care.” I shot up from where I was sitting, anger spurring me on. “Let him come down here and tell me what he thinks of me to my face, but he will not keep me from saying goodbye to Shane.”
She grabbed my arms as they flailed around in anger. “Shh. Dylan.” Her voice took on an urgent tone, drawing my attention away from cursing the window above us. “I’m serious. You can’t go.”
Seething, I tried to reign in my anger, tried desperately to make sense of what she was telling me.
“No.” I shook my head, and pulled my arms from her grasp.
“I loved him and he loved me and I need to say goodbye.” I was resolved; there was no talking me out of this.
I’d already lost him, but there was no way in hell I was not going to say goodbye.
“I wish you’d listen to me.” Her puffy, red eyes begged me, pleaded with me.
“No… I…”
“He has a gun.” Her words cut through my final protests. “Dylan, just… I know you need to say goodbye, but please, don’t show up tomorrow. For your own safety.” Her last words fell from trembling lips.
Both of us craned our heads to the front door. The loud thudding of stumbling footsteps came from inside, followed by a booming, “Rebecca, where the fuck are you?”
“Go,” she whispered, pushing me down the stairs. “You have to go. Now!” I tumbled and landed in the front bushes just as he opened the door. Without being seen, I was able to scramble to the side of the porch, hidden from his sight.
“Who were you talking to?” Even in the dark, I saw his beady eyes scanning the porch and front yard for someone, for me, even though he didn’t know it was me.
“I just couldn’t sleep. Needed a breath of fresh air. That’s all.” Her eyes were cast downward, her voice no more than a soft, obedient noise.
“You’re lying.” His hand wrapped too tightly around her frail upper arm and she squeaked in pain. “I heard a car. Someone’s out here.” His tone was laced with paranoia.