10. Indie #3
Teddy shifts on the couch, his cheeks bright red, and his eyes darting around for help.
I’m still frozen, trying to process that this is Teddy’s ex-girlfriend sitting next to him on the couch.
We’ve talked about exes. That was when he found out about my bisexuality, and I had braced myself for the normal response I received from men—asking for a threesome.
But Teddy…
Well, Teddy never ceases to surprise me.
“Out of all the men and women in the world, you chose me. I’m so honored, honey. I love you.”
And I’ve learned about his exes, surprised at how few there were. A middle school girlfriend named Andrea who broke up with him when he got braces, and kissing him got awkward.
A vaguely mentioned high school girlfriend he broke up with before college.
A college girlfriend he was off and on with for four years, toxic enough that Luke and Heath had to practically drag him out of the cycle of forgiving her for cheating, and then her cheating on him again.
Then me.
Teddy always tells me I’m the love of his life, that he’s going to marry me, and I believe him.
But I can’t lie that it doesn’t hurt to have his ex-girlfriend here, in his house, completely adored by his mother, who hates me.
“Oh my God,” Colleen says, pressing a hand to her chest. “That was adorable.”
“Colleen, hand me the photo album there.”
“Mom, come on, can we just—” Teddy starts, but gets cut off.
“This is going to be precious!” June squeals.
“They were such cute little kids,” Robin says, sipping from her wine. “And now look at them. Teddy’s grown into such a handsome man—”
“And Lily, you are just so beautiful,” Dawn cups her chin. “Like a little china doll.”
Lily preens under the praise, trying for demure.
A bright red Teddy sends me an apologetic smile across the room.
“Mom,” Teddy says, firmer this time.
She ignores him.
And I stand at the edge of the room as everyone gathers around Dawn, Lily, and Teddy, reminiscing over times I know nothing about.
It isn’t a new feeling—being the outsider, the one left out of the joke. When it happens often enough, you get used to it. That doesn’t mean it stops hurting when you realize there is no way in.
Teddy nods at the appropriate times and smiles tightly as his mother, Colleen, his aunts, and their friends go through memories.
Lily looks like she’s having the time of her life being the center of attention.
And I hate how the focus has been pulled away from the person who died.
Ellie.
June, Robin, Colleen, and Dawn’s friends speak over each other as Dawn flips through the photo album, turning the photos around to show everyone. Little Teddy, with his big smile, his clear green eyes with dark lashes around them, smiling, his arm around little Lily, adorable and sweet.
And it kills me that as I look at them then, and as I look at them now, they do look good together.
“Look at these little sweethearts!” Dawn coos,
“Adorable!”
“So sweet!”
“Precious!”
“Aw, I remember my first love…”
My breathing shortens, my heart pounds harder and harder as people celebrate the reunion of Teddy and Lily like they’re long-lost loves, and I am just… there.
I turn and walk out of the room, up the stairs, taking the path I took a week and a half ago.
Ellie’s room.
Quietly, I walk through the door, but freeze when I see that it’s already packed up.
Her floral bedding is gone, her antique lamp is gone, and her closet is empty. All of her framed pictures, her little knick-knacks, the treasures that used to crowd her dresser and vanity and side table—all gone.
My heart twists painfully in my chest as I search around the room for any evidence of Ellie.
I open drawers, I peek under the bed, getting my black dress all dusty, desperately hoping to find something.
Then I see it, tucked behind the side table near her bed, like it slipped and was forgotten. The blue wave cap she wore when she lost her hair from chemotherapy.
The one I gave to her.
With shaky hands, I grab it and immediately pull it to my nose and inhale deeply, searching for any trace of her scent—warm and sweet and so damn comforting.
I can't find it.
But still, I press it harder to my face and finally—finally—feel the tears sting. The numbness and shock finally break. And I feel all of it.
Grief, tearing my chest apart.
I’ve never lost someone like this before, always observing others, consulting them through death and grief, encouraging them to speak to someone. I don’t want to speak to anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
Somehow, I don’t feel like I have the right to feel this way. I was only Ellie’s doctor, but she made me feel like family. She and Teddy are the only family I’ve ever known.
And now she’s gone.
One by one, hot tears run down my cheeks, salt gathering on my lips, and I let out a whimpering sob, muffled by the fabric catching it.
My breath tears in and out of me. I rock back and forth, my muffled cries loud in the empty room. But I can still hear the laughter downstairs.
And that’s good.
It’s good to laugh through grief.
But for one awful moment, it feels like Ellie isn’t the only one who died in this room.