15. McKenna
Nothing feels right. I’m on auto-pilot—going through the motions, completely numb from any feeling besides unrelenting heartbreak.
After Griffin broke my already-shattered heart into a million irreparable pieces, I had to come back to a dorm filled with Katie’s belongings.
The pain I feel every day without Katie here feels like I’m walking on snow, and all of a sudden, grief strikes me like an avalanche, burying me alive.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dialed her phone, just to have it go to her voicemail. She was my person. I went to her for everything, and she was always only a few steps, or a phone call away. Lately, I just call so I can hear her voice on the voicemail message.
Carson has been my rock; I’m not sure what I’d do without him. He even came by the dorm and helped pack up Katie’s things. Jack told me to keep anything of hers that would bring me comfort and the rest he would go through.
After meeting with my coach and athletic director, we decided it would be best if I redshirted this season. Because I only played two games before the accident, I was able to qualify for a hardship waiver. With the concussion that resulted from my brain swelling, combined with the grief, anxiety, depression, and survivor’s guilt I’m working through, I was on board with my coach’s suggestion.
Being a redshirt freshman means I’ll still practice with the team once I’m cleared, but I won’t travel or play any games. I also don’t lose a year of eligibility. Due to the severity of my concussion, I’ve been out of practice for over a month, and it’ll be another two weeks before I can return to light activity.
The extra time off practice has allowed me to catch up on my classes, go to some of Carson’s pre-season games, and find a therapist to work with.
My therapist’s name is Camila, and I’ve felt like I can open up to her so far. Today, I’m sitting across from her in her office, watching as she nods in understanding of what I’ve just said.
“Sometimes it feels like a betrayal to her if I get new friends. She’s irreplaceable in my life.”
“I can understand why it may feel like a betrayal. But, tell me, what do you think Katie would want you to do?” Camila asks.
“She was the most selfless person I know. Katie would want me to be happy, to meet new people, not close in on myself. But I don’t know how to do that without her. She always pushed me out of my shell.”
“Have you gone out with your team? Made any new friends?”
“Katie and I became friends with Alexa and Brooke when we trained with them this spring and summer. Brooke and I have become closer recently. She lost her brother three years ago, so she’s been talking me through the waves of grief and guilt I’m feeling.”
Camila adds notes to the legal pad that’s always in her lap during our sessions while I recount one of the conversations Brooke and I had that’s been weighing on me.
“Brooke said the first year will be the hardest. I’ll be filled with moments where I think I’m okay. Then I’ll see something, experience something new that makes me want to call her up, and grief will pull me right back under. There will be times when I’ll be reminded that something was Katie’s last. Or firsts that I’ll experience that I realize she never will.” Brooke’s words really hit their mark with me when we spoke earlier this week.
I continue, “Typically, I love going back to school, so my first day of classes would have been something I looked forward to. I was looking forward to them before the accident. Instead, on my first day of classes, I not only felt unbearable sadness and heartbreak, I was riddled with guilt for being alive—for being able to attend classes when Katie never got the chance. Will it always be like this? Will I feel guilty when I’m proposed to, get married, or start a family?”
“I can’t answer that for you. Each milestone may bring a wave of grief and possibly guilt. But instead of letting those feelings take hold of you, I want you to write in your grief journal what you would have said to her had she been there with you. Write what you would have texted her, or called her, and said.”
Hearing Camila bring up texting triggers me to look down at my phone sitting on my lap. It makes me think of my text thread with Griffin—at the weeks of unanswered texts I’ve sent him.
Me:
Did you make it back alright?
I miss her so much.
I miss you.
It feels like I lost both of my best friends that night.
Say something, Griff.
Griff hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls. I haven’t been able to bring myself to stop trying, though. It makes me feel more pathetic each time my attempt to reach out goes unanswered.
“McKenna? Where did you go just now?” Camila questions.
I shake my head, knowing we don’t have enough time to dive into my feelings about Griffin in today’s session.
“These sessions are yours. Remember, we go at your pace,” Camila reassures me, giving me the courage to speak about what’s weighing on my heart.
“I’m already grieving Katie, but it feels like I need to grieve Griffin, too. I haven’t moved past the denial phase of grieving him. I’m not even angry with him. After what he said to me—what he believes—I should have already accepted that we will never be together again. But I can’t.”
I wish he would give me something. A drunk text. A drunk dial in the middle of the night. Anything. I hate that I’m so desperate for an ounce of his attention. If it weren’t for me being able to see that he’s on the ice for each of his games, I’d believe he died that night, too.
Today was dark. I woke up, and grief kissed me with a feeling of despair I hadn’t been able to shake. I wished I could cry inconsolably, but I couldn’t. Instead, emptiness took hold of me.
I knew I needed to get out of my own head, so I called Brooke to see if she was free, and now we”re currently grabbing dinner at The Eatery on campus before our late class starts.
“Do you want to come out with us for Halloween? We’re doing a team costume theme. I guess they do it every year, and this year, the theme is Disney Princesses. You’d make the perfect Rapunzel,” Brooke suggests. “Please come, Kenna. You can’t leave me on my own. Alexa is visiting her boyfriend that weekend, so I’ll be the only freshman.” She folds her hands together, pleading for me to give in.
“Where are you guys going?”
“We’ll probably hit up Greek Row.”
I manage to hide my cringe. Drew pledged for a frat last year, and I hated every one of the parties he dragged me to until we broke up.
“Fine, I’ll be your sober companion. I don’t drink at frat houses,” I tell her.
“I don’t care if you drink as long as you’re willing to shake it with me on the dance floor. I remember your moves from this summer, girl.”
My heart sinks thinking about this summer. It was only a few months ago, and yet, I feel like these past few weeks have made it seem like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll be sure to let my hair down, as they say in Rapunzel.” My lame attempt at a joke hits the mark for Brooke. She squeals in excitement.
“Yes! Okay, we’ve got to go costume shopping. Can you go after your next class? We should take advantage of this afternoon without practice.”
“Yeah, I’ll drive us.” That’s another invisible scar I’ve picked up since the accident. I’m not scared to drive, but I refuse to relinquish control to others. So far, I’ve only been comfortable getting in a car with Carson driving. Well, and Griff, too, when he broke up with me.
Halloween weekend is officially here. Brooke and I joined our teammates at one of the upperclassmen’s off-campus houses to get ready earlier.
Now we’re at one of the frat houses on Greek Row, dancing on a makeshift dance floor to “Thriller.” I’m starting to regret my costume choice because my hair feels heavy and keeps getting tangled against my sweat-slicked skin.
After realizing my phone was buzzing, and it wasn’t just the bass of the music, I grab it from my bra.
My heart stutters when I see his name flash across the screen.
I swipe to answer the call, covering my other ear so I can hear better over the noise. “Griff?” I answer with a question, unable to believe he’s actually calling me. My feet move quickly from the dance floor. I need to get outside so I can hear him better.
Griffin’s deep voice comes through the other end. “McKenna. Sunshine, is it really you? Where are you?” His speech is slurred so much that I can barely understand him. Every butterfly that erupted in my chest at finally seeing his name on my phone is quickly laid to rest hearing him like this.
I get outside to the front porch of the frat house just as some guy says, “Hey, blondie. Who are you supposed to be?”
Griff cuts in before I can say anything. “Oh, I get it. Sorry for interrupting. Forget I called.”
“No, Griff! Please don’t hang up. I just had to get outside so I could hear you. You’re not interrupting, ever. I promise.”
“I hate the sound of your voice. Do you know that? It makes me feel. I don’t want to fucking feel anything, McKenna.” His voice cracks as he whispers, “Everything hurts, Sunshine.”
His broken voice reopens every wound in my heart.
I cover my mouth to choke back the sob before it can leave my throat. Tears flood my vision. “I know, baby. I know the pain is unbearable. But I could never hate the beautiful sound of your voice.”
God, I’ve missed hearing his voice.
His agony bleeds through every word as he says, “I miss you. So fucking much. Why did you have to make me fall in love with you? Don’t you get it? The only two other women I’ve ever loved in my life are gone. Everyone I love fucking dies, McKenna.”
My heart shatters with the realization that he pushed me away because, in his heart, he honestly believes it’s what’s best for me.
“Griffin, baby, please listen to me. I love you so much. I’m still yours—every piece of me is still yours. Don’t push me away anymore.”
“I have to. I can’t lose you, too. Even if I can’t have you with me, at least I know you’re alive and thriving.”
I can’t help but scoff at that. “Thriving?” I ask incredulously, raising my voice. “In what alternate reality of yours am I thriving, Griffin? The one where I not only lost my best friend but also the love of my life in one go? I’m anything and everything but thriving,” I damn near yell.
“Fine, fuck, fine!” he shouts back, slurring even more now. “You’re right. Neither one of us may be thriving right now, but you sure look like you’re making one hell of a go at replacing me. I saw those pictures, McKenna. I hope little Rapunzel finds her Prince fucking Charming tonight.”
And with that, he hangs up on me. When I try to call him back, it goes right to voicemail.
How much longer can I fight a losing battle before I give up?
He doesn’t want me anymore.
The past few weeks have been a blur. I got so fucked out of my mind on Halloween I don’t even remember calling Kenna. Maks had to tell me the next day.
Lately, my life has been a toxic cycle, repeating every day. If I’m not on the ice or trying to blow off class, I’m drowning myself in a bottle of liquor. I don’t even have a preference. If it will drown out the pain, I’ll drink it.
My coaches, teammates, and friends are all worried about me, but I can’t bring myself to give a fuck. I’ve been bringing it on the ice. My sole focus and motivation is hockey. It’s become more of an obsession—a fixation—than ever before. Hockey is the one thing that brings me a modicum of relief from the pain that consumes me.
I slam the front door shut behind me, making my roommates lift their heads from where they’re playing Call Of Duty in the living room. Emmett nods in greeting to me. I nod back as I head up the stairs to my room. I need to take a shower and get ready before we head out.
I’m just tightening the Half Windsor knot of my tie when my phone rings. I answer on the third ring, hesitating when I see my dad’s name flash across the screen.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Griffin, I wanted to talk to you. Is now a good time?”
“Can you make it quick? I’m about to head to the rink for my game.”
“Right. Sorry, who do you play tonight?”
“Harvard, it’s rival night.”
“If you can get something past Calvetti, you guys have a shot at staying undefeated.”
“I’m not too worried about it. Calvetti’s ego needs to be checked, and we plan to do so tonight.”
“That’s my boy,” he says before clearing his throat. “Listen, Griff. I wanted to let you know I’ve accepted a job at Mass General in Boston as their Chief of Surgery. I originally turned them down, but with you on the East Coast and Katie gone, I changed my mind and accepted their offer. I’m selling the house and should be settled in Boston by the end of the month.”
I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around what he’s saying. He’s moving here. He’s selling the house. My childhood home. The place that’s filled with memories of both Katie and my mom. I hear my dad getting emotional on the other end of the phone.
“What?” I barely choke out the question—my voice pinched with emotion.
I hear the pain in my dad’s voice when he replies, “I’m sorry, Griff. I just can’t do it. I’m not strong enough to stay in a house that reminds me of them every second of every day. I miss Katie. I miss your mother. I feel like I’m drowning in that house, and I’m all alone.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to see his side of things.
“I could hardly stand sleeping in that house the night before her funeral. It’s okay, Dad. We should let it go,” I tell him.
And I should really listen to my own advice. I need to let everything go from that house and the one next door. I can’t fuck up anymore by calling her—I need to let her go like I said I would.
In my heart, I know I’ll never get over McKenna Wilder. She’ll always be the one I pushed away. The woman I’ll compare all others to for the rest of my life. She’s Sunshine—just not mine anymore.