Chapter 29 #3
“Thanks.” From the way her smile faltered, she had a similar feeling—that awful twinge that came with remembering Leif wasn’t here.
They were having another baby boy… but Leif wasn’t here.
The team won a game… but Leif wasn’t here.
We were ordering Thai from the best restaurant in Sewickley… but Leif wasn’t here.
Rachel put her phone aside and pushed out a ragged breath. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. I’m just… I’m glad Leif knew. About the baby. But it’s hard because he doesn’t know…” She trailed off as tears spilled over her lashes.
I slid closer and wrapped my arms around her, trying like hell not to choke on my own emotions. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry.”
She held on and trembled, crying silently against my shoulder for a moment. “God, I’m sorry.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes with a shaky hand. “Everyone keeps telling me this will get better, but…” She shook her head. “Damn hormones.”
“I don’t think it’s the hormones,” I said gently. “I’m sure they don’t help, but like I just told you, I’ve been a mess, too, and I’m not pregnant.”
Rachel met my gaze, her eyes red and wet.
I clasped her hand in mine. “You just saw me fall apart, and believe me, it’s not the first time that’s happened.
One of the things my therapist keeps telling me is that even though society doesn’t acknowledge it, losing a close friend can hit almost like losing a partner, you know?
It’s not romantic love, but it’s love, and it fucking hurts.
” I gently tightened my grasp o her hand.
“Losing him has wrecked me in ways I never imagined it would. If it’s fucked me up this much as his friend—if it's going to have me breaking down and crying at the slightest provocation—then of course it’s going to make a mess of his wife. ”
Her shoulders slumped and some more tears fell.
For a heartbeat, I was afraid I’d said the wrong thing and made it worse, but then she gripped my hand tighter and whispered, “I think I needed to hear that.” She swiped at her eyes again.
“I feel like I should just snap out of this and go back to normal, or that everything I feel is just hormones, but it’s…
” She covered her mouth as she started to cry again. “I lost my husband.”
I pulled her back into my arms and tried to hold myself together.
Hearing and feeling her cry like this was absolutely heart-wrenching.
Even more than when I’d had my own breakdown a moment ago.
It reminded me of that day when I’d lost it in Shannon’s office; I just hoped this was because she’d also realized it was okay to feel what she felt and grieve Leif as hard as she loved him.
Society didn’t understand friends grieving like this, and friends didn’t always know how to do it; maybe spouses didn’t know how either.
After a long moment, Rachel started to quiet, and I whispered, “I’m sorry,” because I didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t be.” She drew away and reached for the tissues on the end table. “I think it’s what I needed to hear.”
“I know the feeling. My therapist and I had a similar conversation.” I wiped my own eyes. “We’re always trying to be stronger than we are.”
“God, isn’t that the truth?” She handed me a tissue, which I took gratefully. “Grief is bullshit.”
I laughed through my tears. “It really is. What the fuck.”
She laughed, too. “I want to speak to a manager.”
I snorted. “Right?”
We both chuckled and dabbed at our eyes.
Sobering, I said, “Listen, I don’t…” I hesitated, gnawing the inside of my cheek. Then I met her gaze. “I don’t want to pour salt on wounds or anything. But I have some things of Leif’s. I, um… I want to give them back, but if it’s easier for me to hold on to them for now, I can.”
Renewed pain flickered across her face. “What things?”
I couldn’t begin to explain why my voice tried to crack as I whispered, “His golf clubs.”
Her features threatened to crumple too, but she rallied and cleared her throat. “God, I totally forgot about those.” She rolled her shoulders. “I think his brother might like to have them.”
“Okay. I’ll—” I stopped myself before I said I’d go out to the car and grab them.
I didn’t want to explain to Rachel that it was still in my trunk.
I didn’t want her to figure out that they’d been there since August. That no one had moved or touched them since he’d put them in there beside mine.
That moments after he’d put the clubs in the place they still were today, he’d ridden out of the parking lot on his bike, and I’d never seen him again.
I shifted a little and coughed to get my breath moving. “I’ll bring them by next time.”
Her sad smile made me glad I’d kept that card close to my vest. It seemed like such a small, inconsequential thing, but if there was one thing I’d learned in the months since we’d lost her husband and my best friend, it was that nothing was small or inconsequential.
“Thank you, Avery,” she said. “And… thank you for being here. I hate that you’re grieving too, but it’s nice to not be alone.”
“Yeah. It is.”
Her words brought me up short, though. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might feel alone in this. It made perfect sense—it just hadn’t crossed my mind.
Unaware of my brain catching on her comment, she rolled her shoulders and pushed out a breath. “On that note, how about we order some food? Because if we’re going to be sad, we should at least stuff our faces with good Thai food.”
I laughed. “That is some sound logic.” I picked up my phone. “Your usual?”
“Yeah.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Zero star spice, though.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously? You don’t want that crazy five-star shit you always order?”
“Oh, I do.” She scowled and pointed at her belly. “He, however, does not.”
I blinked. Then I shook my head, and as I opened the app, I muttered, “That kid is grounded until high school.”
Rachel laughed with some actual feeling, and it was the best thing I’d heard all day.