Chelsea
When Trevor called me this morning, my heart nearly stopped. Then I jumped into action. I packed a bag so fast I realize now I forgot underwear, and ran out of my house in my slippers, shouting fragmented sentences at my dad, stepmom, and gran. Gran chased me out of the house and threw some money and a pair of sneakers in the back of my car before I drove off.
Trevor is rightfully a mess, but I don’t think I’ve seen the worst of it yet. I can feel him holding it in. While he let out some of it when I first got here, I see him actively pushing it all down. As usual, he’s trying to hold it together for his mom and for Hyla. Though he did tell me he broke down a little with her, I’m guessing he was still restrained.
I finally got him to eat a little something. Now he’s with his mom, talking with Rae’s grandparents, who brought some food. I take the opportunity to sneak down to Hyla’s room. I saw her briefly earlier when I went in with Trevor and Liz, but a doctor came in so quickly we didn’t have time to talk.
Rae and Aaron are leaving her room when I get there.
“Is she awake?”
Rae nods. “Yep. I was just going to find someone else to keep her company. She needs that.”
So I’d assume.
I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. Somehow, I made it through middle and high school without any of my friends attempting suicide. I remember hearing about a couple of kids at school who had, but I didn’t know them, so even though it was sad, there was no personal connection.
When I push the door open, I’m greeted with more light than I was expecting. Gray, late afternoon, winter light streams into the room, mixing with the bright white hospital lights. Every single one in the room is on.
“Hi,” I say when I get around the curtain.
Hyla looks at me with big eyes. “Hi.”
I’m not familiar with someone attempting suicide, but I’m familiar with feeling lost in the darkness. I know what I needed when I was struggling, even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. Someone to crawl into the darkness and sit there with me. So, I make my way over to her bed and sit down beside her, resting my head against hers.
“I love you.”
She sniffs and takes my hand. “I love you too. I’m—”
“Don’t. Do not apologize to me. The darkness has a way of whispering things that we somehow believe as the truth. Don’t let the darkness win.”
“I’m ready to fight,” she whispers, wiping away tears.
“Good. Because you’ve got an army at your back.”
She turns her head, and I meet her gaze. I see the strength in her eyes along with the broken shards that got her here.
“I was worried you might hate me.”
“What?” A surprised laugh slips out. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I hurt Trevor. And I’d hate anyone who hurt him.”
I arch a brow. “Do you hate Sarah?”
“Of course not.”
“But she hurt him once.”
“She wasn’t trying to.”
I look right into her eyes as I speak. “Neither were you.”
Her lips tremble for a second, then she sucks in a deep breath, a ghost of a smile appearing. “I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister-in-law one day.”
That gets an actual laugh out of me. “You’re confident.”
“Confident in the love I see between you two. For the record, I saw him with Sarah. What you two have is different. It’s stronger. It’s more. He adores you. And I’m taking partial credit because I’ve been manifesting this ever since he first told me about you.”
I eye her suspiciously. “Which was when?”
“The morning after you met… and freaked out.”
I run a hand down my face. “And you were rooting for us based on that?”
“I could hear it in his voice. It’s like he already knew what you were going to mean to him.”
I slowly shake my head, but I can’t deny I felt it too.
The door swings open, then Liz strolls in, a bright smile gracing her face when she sees us.
“There are my girls.”
Something inside me cracks when she says that. That she thinks of me as a daughter. Crap. Tears well in my eyes and Hyla laughs.
“Yeah, she’s good at getting that reaction.”
“I’m sorry my love makes people cry,” Liz says playfully.
As much as I loved being raised with Gran as my maternal role model, I find myself wondering what it would’ve been like to be raised by Liz. She’s strong, fierce, deeply loving, but also so vibrant and playful.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girls,” Trevor says, strolling into the room. He’s got that casual calm mask on. There’s even a hint of playfulness there, but I know beneath it all, there’s a storm brewing.
“Suck up,” Liz teases.
Trevor kisses my forehead, then Hyla’s.
Then he gives Liz his sweetest smile.
He sits down in the chair beside the bed and an unimportant conversation picks up, but as I sit here, Trevor’s knee brushing my leg and Hyla’s hand wrapped around mine, it hits me that this is my family. A new one. One I wasn’t expecting to have, but one I love nonetheless.
I’m grateful I can be here, not just for Trevor or Hyla or Liz individually, but as a whole. To be their support and walk through this with them.
I’m so thankful Trevor found me, that I didn’t push him away, and we ended up here.
I’m glad Hyla was manifesting it.
But I think fate was manifesting it for longer.
It’s close to 7:00 p.m. when we finally leave the hospital. Liz is staying with Hyla overnight, so it’s just Trevor and me, and the second we walk out the doors and into the brisk cold of mid-January, the mask he was wearing slips off, and he looks like he did when I first got to the hospital. Empty. Broken. Numb.
Twining my fingers with his, I lead him down the street to my car, then drive us back to his house. He’s silent the whole way. We get back to the house, and while he takes a shower, I make ramen noodles. Everything is steeped in silence.
It’s not until he climbs into bed with me that he finally lets go.
His chest shudders with a sob, and I curl my body around his, holding him tightly, letting him cry like he did at the hospital. Except this is worse. The noise he makes with every gut-wrenching sob tears my heart apart. I wish I could take his pain. He’s holding on to too much.
I stroke my hand over his cheek, fingertips brushing his soft curls.
“I failed her,” he chokes out. “I shouldn’t have tried to handle it alone. I should’ve—should’ve—”
“You did the best you could.”
“It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. I should’ve protected her. Shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did with her parents.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say firmly. “She’s where she needs to be to get help now.”
He shakes his head. “All I can think about is those horror stories of people killing themselves inside the mental health units. What if she just put on that happy face? What if—” He coughs on a sob, and I hold him tighter. I don’t know what else to do.
“We both saw her before we left. There was genuine light in her eyes. Plus, your mom is there. I know it’s scary, but she’s safe. It will take time to heal, but she will.”
“But I could have lost her. I thought I did. I thought she was dead. And now, every time I close my eyes, all I can see is her lying on the floor, bleeding. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose anything—anyone—else.”
He lost his dad. He lost his ability to play baseball. And as I’ve slowly begun to realize, when he had that accident, he lost parts of his humor and his happiness. He’s damn good at making it look like he’s fine, but he’s not. I’m the only one he shows that to.
I lace my fingers through his curls, tugging at them, playing with them. Anything to comfort him.
“At least my mom didn’t have to see it. Didn’t have to see her like that. I’d do it all over again as long as my mom wouldn’t have to. She’s lost more than me.”
She lost her husband and the father of her child along with any future she thought they’d have. But still, I think Liz would say the same of Trevor. She would’ve taken it on, so he didn’t have to.
“I know you would, but you don’t have to martyr yourself to take care of everyone else. You deserve that protection and safety too. Stop trying to face the world alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
His swollen eyes find mine.
“No, you’re not.” I kiss his forehead. “Never.”
He buries his face in my neck again. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”
Tears stream down my face as I kiss his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours and you’re mine. I’m here.”
He nods against my chest, arms still wrapped tightly around me.
“I love you,” I whisper into his hair.
He’s quiet, then the last words I hear him say before his sobs subside and he drifts off to sleep are, “I love you too.”
Trevor
I wake up with a headache from hell and my body aching like I got hit by a bus.
I stretch and sit up, finding the bed next to me empty. On my bedside table is a glass of water, ibuprofen, and a note.
Take the ibuprofen. Drink ALL that water. Then come downstairs and find me. -Chels
No surprise, my amazing girl is taking care of me.
Letting my guard down and my vulnerability out so she can care for me was hard, but I’m so glad I did it. So glad I let myself have that safe space.
I needed it last night. I’m going to continue needing it.
Running a hand through my hair, I grab the water, then the meds. I swallow them down, then chug the whole glass.
I hit some kind of bottom yesterday. Whether it was when I saw Hyla on her bathroom floor, at the hospital, or once I was in bed with Chelsea last night, I’m not sure. But it happened. The last time I felt that emotionally fucked up?
After my dad died. I was close after my accident, but I had so much physical healing to do that I set my focus on that. Which might have done me a disservice in the long run.
I love that I can rely on Chelsea—that she’ll hold me while I break. But the way I broke down twice yesterday—or even a couple of months ago on the anniversary of my dad’s death—was extreme. And maybe a sign that I need to take care of my mental health.
Hyla didn’t. I don’t ever want to end up feeling that hopeless or broken.
With a deep breath, I climb out of bed and grab my phone. There’s a text from my mom that reads: Starting the next step off the right way . There’s also a picture of her and Hyla drinking coffee from a local coffee place and eating cinnamon rolls. Of course. That’s Rae and Sarah’s mom’s specialty. I bet they delivered them early this morning.
I blink at the clock, which tells me it’s past ten, which seems impossible, but a good night’s sleep was also needed.
I stretch my back, rubbing at my sore muscles, then head downstairs, where I find Chelsea in the kitchen, cooking.
“Hi.” My voice comes out like I’ve smoked a pack a day for the last forty years.
She spins and smiles, a spatula in her hand. “Morning, babe.”
I stroll over and wrap my arms around her waist. “Pancakes?”
“It seemed like a pancake morning. I’ve made blueberry, chocolate chip, some with extra vanilla and sprinkles, and classic ones.”
“Comfort food.”
“The best kind.” She turns her head slightly, brushing her lips over mine. Then she flips both pancakes on the griddle in front of her, sets the spatula down and spins in my arms. “How are you doing?”
I hold her close, breathing in her sugary, coconut scent. “A little better.”
“You seem it. A little less weight on you, at least.”
“I think I need to go to therapy.”
Her brows lift and she smiles softly. “Yeah?”
“There’s a lot I haven’t processed. And maybe trying to take on the world doesn’t help with that.”
She shakes her head. “Not so much. It’s okay to have trauma, but it’s better when you work through it. I told Hyla yesterday not to let the darkness win. We shouldn’t either. I keep up on therapy because it helps me with that. If it’s something you’re ready to do, I think it’ll help you too. Just make sure you’re doing it for you, not for anyone else.”
“It’s for me. I want to feel better. You say my grumpiness is all an act, but it’s not always. Not inside, at least. Sometimes I feel like Eeyore on the inside.”
She runs her hand over my cheek. “You are kind of like Eeyore sometimes. That’s fine. I can be your silly Winnie the Pooh and make you smile.”
“I don’t think Eeyore and Winnie the Pooh were sexually involved.”
She laughs, big and beautiful. “I’m sure there’s a fanfic for that.”
“Two cartoon characters having sex?”
She pats my cheek. “Oh, my sweet summer child.”
“I take it back. Those are the people who need therapy.”
“Hey, bookish rules here. We don’t yuck someone else’s yum.”
“This conversation has taken a turn.”
She shrugs. “Add it to things to unpack in therapy.”
In a quick motion, she balances both pancakes on her spatula, opens the oven door, and sticks them inside, then turns the burners off.
“I found maple syrup, chocolate syrup, jam, whipped cream, and Rainbow Chip frosting. Think that’s enough pancake fixings?”
“I think that’s enough for a sugar coma.”
“You need lots of sugary sweet energy for today. I’m going to drop you off at the hospital, then head home to grab some more clothes. Currently not wearing underwear because I forgot to pack some—”
“Not a problem for me.” I wiggle my brows at her, feeling lighter and a little more like myself.
“You’re trouble.”
“Always.” I lift her onto the counter and step between her legs. “I love you, and I’m insanely grateful to have you. You’re the reason I got through yesterday. Thank you for being here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d be. You must know that by now. I’m kind of obsessed with you, book boyfriend.”
Even though it’s our running joke, I’m too lost in gratitude to laugh. Instead, I lean in closer, capturing her lips in a raw, passionate kiss. Not one meant to lead anywhere, but to show her the depth of my feelings—my gratitude and love for her.
And as she kisses me back, fingers curling in my hair, a sense of home sweeps over me. Not because of this house, but because of her. I lose myself in kissing her and my shoulders relax. Everything tight inside me eases, and for this moment at least, I let myself believe everything will be okay.