Chapter 24 #2
“Okay, yes. I hear you, one hundred percent. But first off, grieving doesn’t make you ‘emotionally weak.’ I can understand not wanting to start a relationship like this, but you can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for a time when both of you are in perfect headspaces for a relationship.
You will inevitably be supporting each other through something or another in this lifetime.
It’s not always going to be a perfect fifty-fifty split.
And secondly, from what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like Declan is scared off by your tears in the least. And actually, a third point I’m just now thinking of, and not to diminish your grief at all, but this sounds a little bit like a case of CMIL,” Faye says tentatively.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Crazy Mother-In-Law.”
“He’s not even my boyfriend, let alone my husband, Faye.”
“Yes, I know that, obviously. But doesn’t what Gwen said feel a little manipulative? You weren’t doubting yourself at all until she planted those things in your head. And now you don’t even know if you can trust your own judgment to have good judgment. It’s like this weird circular argument.”
“Yeah,” Roshi chimes in. “I will say, Blair, you’ve never been one to doubt your choices. Faye and I have to talk twenty people’s ears off before we make a decision, but you’ve always just kept it all in here, no problem.” She taps her temple.
“That’s true,” I mutter, going inward.
“And didn’t you mention that Gwen was the one who wouldn’t let you through the door when you were trying to visit Declan all those years ago?” Roshi adds.
“Well, technically Declan told her he didn’t want to see me.”
“And why didn’t he want to see you?” Faye asks.
“He said it was because he didn’t want me to see him… in that state.” My voice peters off.
“Like, injured, and bedridden, and weak?” Roshi supplies for me.
I nod. “I wouldn’t care what state he was in. I just wanted to see him. Be there with him.”
They nod in unison and something stirs in my chest.
I just wanted to be there with him.
Through every emotion he was having. Anger and shame and heartbreak, complete despair. And that’s what he wanted with me, now.
It was like Declan and I were reliving our past—but in reverse this time. He hadn’t wanted me to see him weak, and now I shuddered at the thought of him being with me at my lowest. Both of us believing we were protecting the other from pain by hiding our suffering.
But hadn’t the past two months taught me how much I disagreed with that?
I had to force Lottie to let me stay by her bedside as she was dying, and I watched my mom refuse to ask for help even as she drowned before my eyes.
In the end, they caused the very pain they were trying to protect me from.
And though their intentions were good, I couldn’t keep doing the same—to Faye and Roshi, and most of all, to Declan.
And besides, there is little I wouldn’t be willing to do for Declan. The thought clangs through me as if dropped into my mind from above. Swiftly, the flutter of fear follows it. I want Declan, and not just in the emotional-safety-blanket way.
Not because he dampens the stomach-churning effects of grief.
Not because he’s a distraction. If anything, he was the exact opposite.
He was the one who led me through my tears.
Led me to face the life-altering reality when I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real.
And even at the bottom of my grief, I knew, deep in my gut, I would still have it in me to be there for him.
It would be my joy to pull myself out of my world to be a part of his.
The realization is startling. I couldn’t picture wanting anything close to the depth with which I wanted Declan. So, why did I feel so terror-stricken?
“Oh my gosh,” I breathe. “The thing Lottie always used to say—it’s happening to me.”
Faye and Roshi were still, waiting for me to snap out of my strange inwardness and explain.
“Lottie used to always say this phrase.” The familiar, painful knot forms in my throat and I berate myself to keep it together.
I take a moment, try to breathe, and continue.
“She would say, ‘the fear part only comes when it’s love.’ But you know, she would say it more in her accent that I never heard until other people told me she had one. ”
Roshi laughs. “Relatable.”
“And I never understood what that meant, but she said I would know it was real love if it felt so big, it became scary to admit. If I felt transformed by it, felt like I’d be losing a part of myself if I lost it.
And I do feel that fear now, but not because I don’t think it will work between us, but because I think it really will.
Except, on the horrifying condition that I have to let him in on my grief as it happens.
Which you guys know I’m terrible at. I’ve never even cried in front of you guys until now.
But these days I really have no control over it.
” In perfect irony, my voice crumples like a soda can being crushed and I bow my head to hide my contorting face.
Faye and Roshi scootch from their sections of the couch to reach me in an instant.
I feel both sets of arms wrap around my shoulders and I finally allow myself to let go in front of them for the first time.
My tears are for Lottie, because I did feel like I lost a tiny part of myself when I lost her.
But they were also for the fear I felt, because I couldn’t escape the way I loved Declan.
The surge of emotions pours out now that I’ve let myself admit them.
I did feel entirely transformed since seeing Declan again.
Staying in Seabrook despite the grief that awaited me at every corner felt possible because of him.
He was the insistent voice that reminded me of my love for writing.
So much so, I was angry at him at first for reminding me of the dream I tried so hard to forget.
But he pushed back on my self-doubt. Believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.
And now, I had a nearly completed manuscript on my computer.
In so many ways, being near him brought me closer to myself.
And that was what scared me most. I had already been in love with him.
I had never fallen out of love with him.
“What are you feeling right now?” Faye asks gently once my breathing calms.
“I’m thinking about how—”
“I asked you what you’re feeling, not what you’re thinking,” she protests, but her delivery makes me laugh. “You are such a thinker. Think, think, think! I’m convinced all your problems would be solved if you just let yourself feel your emotions.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” I burst out. But after a moment of silence, I let my head fall into my hands as I release another wave of sobs.
“There you go!” Faye points at me. “Would you look at that. You are a very fast learner indeed. You’re getting the hang of it right there.”
I look up and pin her with a glare through teary eyes.
Roshi claps as she honks with laughter.
“You guys are ridiculous,” I say with affection.
“And you’re in love. Our blinky Blairy is in love. Finally,” Faye singsongs, kneeling on the couch and clutching her hands to her chest.
“Not finally. Just again,” I say.
Roshi and Faye look at each other with wide eyes like they don’t recognize this version of me sitting on the couch.
“Oh my gosh.” I cover my face with my hands. “Do you guys want to know a secret? Since we’re already exposing everything about me right now?”
“Spill,” Faye demands.
“Declan may or may not live right across the street.”
Roshi and Faye freeze like they’re being pranked. They look at each other again, then slowly turn back to me. And then they scream.
“Oh my gosh! Blair, you self-effacing freak. I forgot about that. Why didn’t you remind us the second we came in?” Roshi yells, picking up a couch cushion to fling at me.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me that!” Faye whines.
I shrug and cover my face in self-defense.
“Well, now that I know that, you think I’m just gonna let you sit there? Get up! Get up!” Faye squeals.
They both fly up from the couch. Roshi, to throw soft things at me, and Faye, to physically pick me up from the corner I’ve been occupying.
“You are literally ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re a real human being who has avoided being in love with their best friend for this long.
Get up, right now, we’re going to the bathroom to do your hair,” Faye rants as she sticks her pokey fingernails into my armpits to lift me up, and then pushes me to the bathroom, whipping out my hairbrush.
“You guys, it must be midnight at this point. I can’t just barge over there in my pajamas and bang on his door,” I argue.
Roshi checks her phone. “It’s only eleven twenty-three. You’re going over there. And you’re right. You can’t wear pajamas. Put this on.” She rips the first black dress she sees from my closet and hands it to me.
“You’re kidding me. I am not wearing a dress to walk across the street.”
“Oh, but you are,” Faye says matter-of-factly. “Arms up.”
And that’s how I end up in a little black dress at eleven thirty-five, crossing the street with Roshi and Faye peeking through my living room blinds.
The second I step outside, the ridiculousness of the dress hits me.
I try to turn around and run back inside, but Roshi and Faye barricade the door.
I roll my eyes, secretly grateful for the excuse not to chicken out.
Faye gathered the top section of my hair into a half-up hairdo and curled my curtain bangs to frame “the petite features of my face.”
Crossing the street and onto Declan’s lawn takes no time at all, and it feels like I blinked and appeared at his doorstep.
The memory of me waiting on his childhood home’s doorstep reverberates through me like a dissonant note and internally, I cringe.
But I forgave that. Now, I had to hope he would forgive me for running away. I raise my hand and knock.
Silence.
I turn around and squint my eyes at Faye and Roshi’s not-so-subtle window peeking and throw my arms up. They wave frantically as if to say, Just try again! So, I lift my hand once more and knock. Still, nothing. No footsteps. No television sounds in the background. Not a sound.
Disappointment ricochets through me, and I suddenly feel naive for thinking Faye and Roshi’s plan would work. This isn’t some grand romance book ending. He’s probably entering REM sleep at this very moment like a normal person at eleven thirty-eight.
The bitter sting of rejection spreads through my limbs as I cross the street, but the moment I walk through the cottage’s front door, they smother my encroaching shame with emphatic coos, shoulder pats, and assurances.
Padding into the bathroom, I lock myself inside to peel off my black dress and hop into bunny-printed pajamas. Even with the door closed, Faye and Roshi are shouting encouragements. I laugh them off like they’re a nuisance but secretly they are helping.
On Sunday morning, Faye and Roshi are leaving, but they would leave me with more confidence than I felt all summer.
I hadn’t witnessed myself being open with people often, but I discovered they were a soft landing.
It was confirmation that the people in your life could only be as close to you as you let them.
Which I hoped to apply to Declan, in ways that were closer than friendship allowed.
Loving Declan came naturally to me. It was, potentially, the one thing in my life I never had to try at. The one place where feeling came more naturally than thinking.
“Promise us you won’t chicken out once we’re gone.” Faye blocks me from retreating to the bedroom the second I unlock the bathroom door.
“You can trust me on this. I’ll sit on his doorstep all week if that’s what it takes for him to let me in,” I promise, and the proclamation takes root inside me.
We decide to call it a night, but before the hands of sleep claim me, I think about the nearly finished manuscript on my laptop, my best friends beside me, and the cottage that holds them all. I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve slept all summer.
For the first time, I could sense that I hadn’t just returned to my home again, but I had returned to myself, too.