CHAPTER 37
Harvey
I wish I knew how I’d reached this point in my life.
Maybe then I could’ve prevented it.
After Claire left, I spent the evening in my room in total darkness while Hen attended class. Sleep escaped me all night, and a part of me wishes I could fall asleep and never wake up again. I wish I could go peacefully and escape the hell of my own self.
Somehow I’ve never felt more alone.
Everything started the day I was thrown off my Harley.
I often wondered if I should’ve died that night. Maybe I was truly meant to leave this earth, and that’s why I haven’t been able to live happily on it ever since.
I can’t believe she quit and left me.
This hurts me more than my breakup with Gemma, or maybe they’re both intertwining and it’s too much to bear.
The thought that I won’t ever see Claire’s face again or hear her laugh destroys me.
The thought that I failed Gemma hurts me still, while she’s been able to move on so carelessly.
I’m physically weak.
I’m mentally exhausted, dead, even.
I was worried I’d kill Claire’s spirit, yet I ended up killing mine further in the process of loving her.
Because I do. I fucking love her.
And the thought of not walking again, not progressing as I have been, is killing me.
I don’t want to live this life.
I’m sick and tired of the physical ailments and the useless appointments. I don’t want to keep feeling like a failure in my relationships and within myself.
It’s something people often said about me as I eavesdropped at events post-accident: “It’s such a shame. He could’ve done great things, that man!”
Now I feel as if I’ve amounted to nothing.
I’m no one.
I literally have no one.
Henrik doesn’t count. He’s out living his best life, as he should be. He and Gemma and my parents are the only reason I haven’t sliced my wrists yet.
And now the possibility of a future with Claire is also keeping the suicidal thoughts away.
I’m no one.
I have no one.
I’m all alone.
The lack of sleep is getting to me, and the anxiety is too much to handle today.
I barely register my actions when it takes every ounce of energy I have left to transfer to my chair. I wheel myself to the kitchen and grab my medications. Some treat one issue, then the others are meant to counteract the side effects, and it never fucking ends.
I’m not healthy nor happy nor worthy.
I’ve felt a lot of things since the accident, including rage and failure, but I think feeling lonely tops it all off.
Nothing beats it.
It’s one of the worse feelings in the world—other than grief.
Grieving your old self.
Wishing you could get it back, knowing that it can’t follow you into the next stage of your life.
I open the lid of one of the medication bottles and drop a few pills into my hand.
I can do this. I can make the choice to put an end to all of this. There’s a rush of what feels like lava inside my veins, slithering up my arms, making it feel as if molten fire is heating up my upper body.
I try and focus to read the information on the bottle, but it’s not an easy task with the tremor in my hands.
Memories of Henrik and I growing up and my loving parents come to mind, but I bury them deep within so that I can go through with this.
I hope it’s painless.
Peaceful.
I grab a drinking glass and fill it up with water, taking a sip. It tastes nice and refreshing.
Who knew that water could taste like this?
I wipe the sweat off my forehead, my hands quivering with the pills still in my palm. The moisture from my sweat is mixing up with the white substance—the one that will provide relief from the pain.
My stomach gurgles, and I honestly for the life of me can’t remember the last time I ate.
I can’t stomach anything.
I take a pill and pop it into my mouth, then gargle a bit of water to wash it down. It tastes like shit as the residue melts inside my mouth.
I foresee Henrik’s reaction when he finds me in my chair, and a part of me breaks further.
I can’t do this…
Then I think of my life, of the future before me.
There’s nothing but physical and mental pain.
Claire will move on and find a man deserving of her, and she’ll be happy and have children, and she’ll make someone the happiest man alive.
I don’t get that happy ending.
I couldn’t even fuck my girlfriend.
Even if Claire gave me a chance, how long could I expect it to last—the happiness? A few months? A few years? Before she’s sick of me too.
The ache hurts. It intensifies.
I can feel the burning dispersing to my throat, tightening it.
I feel as if I can’t breathe.
I didn’t even realize I was tearing up as the memories flood my mind, both good and bad, good and bad…
I think of my time post-accident, of my life with Gemma beforehand. I think of Henrik’s laugh and off-the-wall comments. I think of the pain, the worst pain. I think of Claire and her words and her spirit.
Claire…
My vision blurs from the tears.
I picture it so well, our future together, what it would look like if I wasn’t disabled. I’d do anything for that future, anything to be able to walk again.
I stare at the mushy pills in my hands, knowing that time is of the essence, and just then, a little angel named Henrik comes in as I hear the door shut loudly.
“Harvey?” He shrieks when he finally notices the look on my face and the pills in my hand. “Harvey, no! No!” He reaches for me and uses a napkin to remove them from my hand. “I can’t… Harv…what the fuck !” Henrik’s tearing up, washing my hands with wipes now. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, and if I didn’t have a ball lodged in the middle of my throat, I would tell him that my hands are clean.
At least literally they are.
Figuratively is a different thing.
I still feel as if I’m on fire, yet having Henrik here, hugging me in silence now, appeases a part of my soul.
You can heal…
I want to tell that voice to fuck right off, that I’ve tried.
I tried to be happy for the people around me. Yet most of it was fake. Gemma was right. For so long, I smiled around others and pretended all was right in the world, yet deep down, when the mask fell off at the end of the night, I was miserable.
I couldn’t help drowning her as well.
“It’s gonna be okay, Harvey… I’m here, I promise. We’ll get through this together. I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he releases me and rubs his sleeve against his eyes to dab the tears away. “You can’t leave me, you fucking idiot! Don’t you get it, Harv? You’re my world . Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you? To Mom? Dad? Gemma and her family? Claire? ”
My chest tightens in response to his words, knowing I would’ve let down a lot of people. More disappointment, except this time I wouldn’t have been around to feel its impact.
“Fuck, Harv.” Hen shakes his head. “Here, drink some water,” he says, handing me the same glass.
I don’t refuse it. I take it and appreciate the hell out of more sips.
Henrik grabs all my medications and shoves them in his pocket, and I know, deep down, that he’ll never let me take my own pills for a while.
“I’ll be right back.” When he comes back, he places a wet towel on my forehead and around my face. It’s cold, but it feels nice. “I called Dad, and Claire.”
“You shouldn’t have called her.”
“She’s still your nurse,” he replies dryly.
I don’t say anything.
Everything feels surreal in this moment, as if it didn’t actually happen. I didn’t take pills in my hand with the intent of killing myself.
I don’t know what seems so peaceful about dying. I mean, what do I really know about it? For all I know, dying could be the least painless thing to do.
Somehow I doubt it though.
Somehow I’m sure it’s serene.
Somehow I felt ready to go down that path earlier.
I can’t say for certain that I would’ve done it. I’m surer that I wouldn’t have—that I couldn’t have hurt the ones I love that way.
I don’t even want to actually die . I don’t truly wish for that. I just wish for the pain and the loneliness and the feeling of failure to stop.
I wish I could walk again.
I wish I could take it all back and skip down the fucking road with my own two feet.
I wish that so much.
Those are the parts I want to kill. Those are the parts I hoped would die.
I wasn’t trying to completely eradicate myself. I simply wanted to destroy a part of myself that I could no longer live with.
That’s one of the ultimate pains in life—when you can’t stand the biggest parts of yourself. That’s when the end is near.
It doesn’t take long for Claire to arrive.
We end up in my room with the door closed, and she throws her arms around me, then slowly, after a few seconds, I end up coaxing her body to sit on me and hug me that way.
The thought of never seeing or touching her face again demolishes some of my few happy cells.
“I love you.” I don’t hesitate to tell her, because why not? Why hold back? Since my days on earth might be numbered, maybe I got my thinking all wrong. Maybe I had to want to leave this place to then want to sink my teeth into it.
She’s been crying a lot, that much is obvious.
“Oh, Harv, I love you too. So much,” she croaks, leaning her face into my neck. Her breathing makes me feel alive.
Her voice.
Her love.
I squeeze her in my arms, never wanting to let go.
This is what love feels like—true love. She’s the love of my life. I can feel it with every bone in my body.
And yet I still wish we could’ve started off with a clean slate. I made so many mistakes that will ensure there are insecurities about my relationship with Gemma for months to come. But if I can get my life together and smell the roses for once, then maybe she’ll see how committed I am to her.
“Talk to me…” she mutters.
A tear leaks down from my eyes, and I refuse to look at her out of fear that she’ll think I’m weak.
“Look at me, my love .” She says it with such conviction, as if she’s sure we’ll end up together forever. Tears continue leaking down my cheeks, and she wipes them away one by one. “That’s it. Let it out.” She’s smiling as she says this, tearing up abundantly herself.
“How do you do it, Claire?”
“Do what?” She pushes my hair back.
“Even in dark times like this…why’re you so happy? Why’re you so fucking happy , Claire. How do you do it?” She leans back, stunned by my words.
“Harvey…life is hard. Life is much harder for some, much, much harder. Yet I believe we all have blessings. If you pay attention, you’ll notice the wonderful things in your life.” My chest hurts when I take a deep breath in and then exhale. She goes on. “But also, the most important thing in the world is how you see yourself, and you view yourself in a very negative light.”
I snicker. “I destroy everyone around me. You can’t fix me, Claire…”
“I know.” She nods. “But you can. There’s plenty to be happy about, Harv—”
“No, there isn’t… I want to walk. I just want to walk . Do you understand that? Do you get how unfair it is that others can and I can’t ?”
She lets me go and settles on the bed instead. “Can’t you see that not everybody gets to do PT and leave their wheelchair—ever?”
“Yeah, well, that was me once—”
“And you pushed through due to your degree of injuries. I feel so strongly for you, Harvey, beyond words and imagination, but I won’t betray myself to try and keep you happy while you’re wishing you’d die.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You know, you should’ve been a poet, Claire.”
“Well,” she says, smiling, “you’d have surely given me plenty to write about.” She winks at me, and everything feels right in the world again.
The axis is no longer tilting.
The clouds in my head are dissipating.
This woman makes my heart beat to its healthiest rhythm.
“The thought of never being near you again…I couldn’t do it,” I whisper.
Her smile fades, and I can tell she’s trying to keep her glistening eyes from crying again. “If you would’ve gone through with it, something in me would’ve died. You would’ve killed a part of me too.”
I trace my thumb over her cheek after bringing my chair closer to her. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I’m going to change, Claire. I promise I’ll change.”
She smiles. “I know that you will. Henrik asked me if it was okay for Gemma to come over and see you. I said yes.”
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling, knowing that this might pose an issue. “He shouldn’t have. She has her own life to live now.”
“Yes, well, there’s no doubt that the pain your relationship has caused is why you had those thoughts today. Henrik also told Gemma that her move-in news might’ve set you off. He didn’t know what to say or not say regarding us.”
I looked at her. “That’s not what led to today, and we both know it.”
“I still think we should keep things between us private.”
I nod. “We don’t need to tell her you left me. I also don’t want her to feel guilty either and put this on herself. The truth is, I’ve just had enough in general.”
“Certain emotions, Harvey…” She sighs. “They can shock the system and make you think of doing things that you wouldn’t normally want to do. But if this is something you’ve thought about many times, I’d love to know,” she says delicately.
“It’s happened often—I won’t lie—but more in the way that I’m sick of living like this…not that I actually want to end my life.”
A knock at the door interrupts us, and my dad comes in, looking worse for wear. “May I steal him for a minute?”
“Certainly.” Claire squeezes my arm, and I swallow. Sometimes I can’t believe my luck to have found her.
When it’s just me and him, he sits on the bed and crosses his knee over his other leg.
“Your mother and I…we’re sorry we couldn’t see your pain. I wish I would’ve known. I can’t pretend I know what to say or do to help you, but know that we want you to guide us through the process…” I nod in response. “You’ve always had so much pride, Harvey. Since you were a little one. You always wanted to do things yourself.” I chuckle lightly, and he smiles fondly. “Perhaps you got it from me. But look, I know I wasn’t accepting of your art in college and put a lot of pressure on you to go into the family business…”
“Dad, no—”
He holds his hand up. “I did, Harvey, and for that I’m sorry. All your mother and I want for our sons is for you to live full, happy lives. No one is punishing you. What you wanted then, whether career-wise or relationship-wise, might look very different now after what you went through, and that’s okay.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“I know that you won’t like this”—he sighs—“but your mother and I insist that you start therapy. Both solo and with others.”
Others, meaning disabled people like me.
It hurts that no matter the words or the intention behind them, I’ll always be an other . A different person. I’ll never be viewed as normal again, by myself or anyone else. And I’m still not sure which one is worse.
I want to say fuck therapy. The thought of talking to someone about my feelings, other than Claire, is almost enough to make me wish I’d taken those pills.
But then I think of my promise to Claire to change.
What the hell do I even have to lose at this point? I mean, I almost lost it all, literally, in one morning.
“Alright, I’ll give it a try.”
“We love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
This is the thing about going through painful moments in life. You can’t always pick and choose the way people will be there for you when you need them. They might mean well and want to help by imposing their ideas on you, and in some ways that might make you feel even lonelier, as if they could never possibly understand.
And how could they?
They get to fucking walk every day.
It’s not something they think or worry about.
It just is.
They’re not seen as outcasts. Some of us are.
We might even be seen as lazy for it—if you gain a few pounds, look paler, can’t keep your life together, want to end the pain.
My dad leaves, and eventually someone else comes into my room.
I’m facing the window in my chair, natural light streaming into my room like sunshine after rain.
“Harv.” I hear Gemma behind me.
She got here fast.
“I wasn’t going to do it.” I try to alleviate her guilt right away. “I thought about it for a split second, and I knew, deep down, I wasn’t going to do it, so don’t worry.”
I notice movement in my peripheral vision as I turn around. I see her sitting on the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees like she’s always done, staring down at her feet.
“What made you think about it?” Gemma whispers.
“I don’t know.” I don’t want to make her feel as if this is her fault, but at the same time, I don’t want to ruin what I have with Claire and disclose the fact that she left me.
Besides, I’m still hoping Claire and I can make it work.
So I go with part of the truth instead. “The first few days after you left were hell. It got better, but when Hen told me the news, it felt like we were really over—even though I already knew it. The pain came back and fuck does it hurt.”
It’s not a lie.
It did hurt hearing the news. It confirmed that she had moved on. And I know that Claire knows that. I mean, she even said it herself.
It’s just that losing Claire was the cherry on top.
The pain I never wished to experience.
Gemma grabs my hand, and I feel the need to spit out the truth. “You’re right. I do love Claire. I’m sorry I kept lying.”
“Harv, don’t. We both messed up. Listen, I can only hope that with time we forgive each other.”
Yeah, I guess that might be possible one day.
“My dad’s forcing me to get therapy.” I chuckle at the thought. “Fuck it, maybe I do need it. I’m still angry at you,” I say, unable to let it go apparently, despite my best efforts.
“Therapy will help, and if you decide to go with Claire sometimes, it might benefit both of you,” she encourages.
Right.
If she takes me back.
“Thanks for being here.”
She squeezes my hand and plants a kiss on top of it. “Of course, I’m always here for you. But, Harv, there’ll come a day when you won’t need me anymore. You’ll be free of your past and of us , and you’ll look back with a smile on your face.”
I don’t think I’ll ever look back on some of the stuff she put me through and smile , but I get what she’s trying to say.
I pull my hand away before there’s a knock on the door, and Claire peeks her head in just as Gemma hugs me.
“Always remember how loved you are,” Gemma says, yet I’m too focused on Claire and the expression on her face to truly consider Gemma’s words.
Once Gemma leaves, I ask Claire if she’s okay, and she nods. I know she’s doing her best. I know that it must not be easy to see Gemma with me, hugging me, especially when she’s the reason that Claire and I ended in the first place.
“I met your dad,” Claire tells me. “Ian’s very nice. I’m assuming that he doesn’t know about us?”
“Hey…come here,” I say, needing to hug her. “They just found out Gemma left and moved out. Then you quit before I could tell them about you. I’m also sure they’re not idiots, Claire. Besides, Henrik has a big mouth.”
Eventually, my mom and I are in my room alone. My mom’s crying, the tears not stopping as she pulls back from my arms.
“I’m okay, Mom. It was nothing.”
“People don’t just wake up and think about ending their life, Harvey. That was not nothing. You’re my baby boy. I can’t even begin to imagine a world without you in it.”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgment. It’s been a rough few months, that’s all.”
“Some people go to therapy, and it helps. You should try it,” she says tenderly.
I nod, knowing I’ve caused her enough grief for one day. “Sure.”
“I love you so much,” she tells me, holding my hand as she looks up at the ceiling. “I know that the accident was hard on you, and I…well, I can’t understand fully, Harvey. That’s why group therapy might help enlighten you.”
I want to tell her that being in rehab post-accident was enlightening enough. I knew we were all going through the same thing, with various levels of injury and progress rates. And yet I felt terrible.
Maybe it’s my character. Perhaps someone like Claire could face an obstacle such as this and deal with it much differently.
That wasn’t me.
It still isn’t me.
But I’m trying.
For Claire and, if I’m being honest, for myself.
“Thanks, Mom. I love you too.”
“I simply want you to be okay. I know Gemma’s leaving must’ve been hard.”
“It was,” I tell her truthfully. “But it was for the best. I’ll be fine. I have Claire… PT’s been helping me, Mom.”
Her eyes sparkle at the mention of Claire’s name, and she has a smile on her face. “I just met her. She’s very sweet.”
That she is.
“She told me a bit about the training program…” she goes on. I look away. I’ll tell my mom about Claire eventually, just not today. “Remember that your family’s always here for you. No matter what.” She leans down and kisses my cheek, and I nod, feeling a catch in my throat.
I never meant to worry them.
I knew that it would, but I got to the point where my pain outweighed my ability to see anything but my own suffering.
My parents stayed late into the evening.
We even played cards with Henrik and Claire, and as the hours passed, I felt exhausted. The usual tension between Henrik and Claire barely showed. Henrik was his chipper self, and my mom and Claire hit it off, to say the least.
Once my parents finally leave, Henrik gives me the biggest hug in the world. “I’m okay, brother,” I say, trying to reassure him.
He sighs. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. And I hid all your meds, FYI. Call me nurse Henny. When you need them, I’ll give them to you.”
Claire chuckles and shakes her head, and my brother doesn’t react badly as he stares at her.
Progress.
When Hen heads to his room to give us space, Claire and I keep staring at each other.
“What do you need from me?” she whispers. “I don’t want to overstep.”
“I’m beat.”
She nods. “You need rest.”
“Sleep next to me. I want to sleep holding your hand,” I tell her, simply adding, “ Please .”
She gulps. “Okay. For tonight,” she clarifies, and I hate what it implies.
I don’t want her to leave again. I also don’t want her to feel forced, yet I know, deep down, that she wants this too.
Our relationship isn’t one-sided.
We both give and take and give and give.
We end up in my room, and I take off my shirt then transfer from my wheelchair to my lowered bed, settling in. I’m a little worried about sweating all over in my sleep. Some nights it can be pretty bad.
“I’ll just text Audrey and my mom,” Claire says, typing away on her phone.
I’m enjoying every second of her being in my room, without having to be for her job. She’s wearing jeans and a button-down blouse. I’m sure she dressed this way to meet my parents. If my mom wondered why Claire didn’t have her uniform on today, she didn’t comment on it, though I doubt she even noticed.
When she finally puts her phone on my night table, she removes her blouse, and I swallow, staring at her in a thin white top. She removes that next, then, to my surprise, turns to my closet to pick out a T-shirt of mine. She puts it on before removing her bra and her jeans underneath the shirt as if I’ve never seen her naked.
I get it—she’s not sure about us.
Claire climbs in bed, and the act itself feels potent and tempting.
I hand her a pillow, since I already have two on my side. I want to pull her to me, but I decide not to push her too far. Besides, this moment is dreamlike enough as it is.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“What for?” she whispers.
“ Everything. ”
“Oh, Harv,” she says, pushing my hair back gently as she lies on her side. When she settles onto her back, we end up holding hands—so close, yet too far away for my liking.
I’m afraid of what tomorrow will bring, I really am. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and she won’t be in my arms.
“Gemma apologized to me. We had a little talk.”
I sure hope it was a good one. “She better have. You didn’t deserve her anger.”
“I did, Harvey. I stole her man.”
I snort, like this is some high school bullshit. “Enough about her…”
She nods, clearing her throat.
“Do you ever wonder how many versions of ourselves we’ll have to go through before we finally love ourselves?” I ask her, contemplating my life.
She turns her head to stare at me. “I think it depends on who you ask. People who’ve faced trauma, like you, might need a little more time and help, but I think once you get there, each version of yourself makes it easier to love.”
Her words.
I wish I could kiss her. I can’t stop thinking about it as I stroke her hand with my thumb.
“And, Harvey…don’t scare me like that again. If you ever have dark thoughts, you come to me.”
I nod, knowing I will.
Then I fall asleep, and for the first time in a long while, I sleep well—too well.