Chapter 37
How are you feeling today, Maeve?”
I draw my gaze away from the window and back to Shannon, my new therapist. I’ve been seeing her every day since Phantom’s suicide two weeks ago. The search and rescue teams still haven’t found their body in the river.
Forcing my voice into a calm, even tone, I say, “Angry.”
Shannon’s gold-rimmed glasses reflect the dim light of the room’s multiple lamps as she studies me. “What do you think triggered it?”
“Phantom’s family has decided to hold a funeral, even though their body hasn’t been recovered yet.” I clench my teeth, refusing to cry anymore. It’s so much easier to be mad than sad. “And they’re restricting the service to family only.”
She nods thoughtfully. “That’s a valid reaction. You loved Phantom. You want the ability to pay your respects and say goodbye.”
Shannon has a way of helping me put my emotions in perspective.
I used to feel guilty for the things I was feeling, but she’s helping me see that feeling emotions is an important part of what makes us human, and we shouldn’t be conditioned, by society, or family, or even friends, to feel bad for experiencing them.
A tear rolls down my cheek and I scoff. Of course I’d lose this battle. I nod at Shannon as I wipe it away.
“How important is it to you to attend their funeral?” she asks softly.
“Very,” I reply solemnly.
She leans forward in her chair, discarding her notepad on the armrest. “Then here’s an idea. Feel free to take it or leave it. Why don’t you ask a member of their family if they’d make an exception for you?”
My eyebrows shoot up at the suggestion.
“The worst response you could get is a denial. And perhaps the act of advocating for what you desire will make you feel better, even if they do deny your request.”
I wipe more tears away. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
Shannon leans back in her seat. “How’s your anxiety been since yesterday?”
“The same. No better, no worse. My parents still call almost every other hour to check-in. Even though I know they mean well with it, it keeps it running high.”
“That sounds like another area to advocate for yourself, and make a reasonable request of your parents. Perhaps asking them to limit their check-in calls to two a day?” she suggests. “Would that feel more manageable?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my anxiety already simmering down at the thought. Shannon’s also been instrumental in helping me develop boundaries these past couple of weeks.
She pushes the rim of her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “And what about your friends? Have they remained supportive after you told them you won’t be sharing the intimate details of your and Phantom’s relationship?”
“Iris completely understood. Perhaps because she’s made a similar decision, keeping parts of her past private. But Emmy was pushier. Eventually, she got on board though. Zayne and Franco were just eager to agree to whatever they thought would make me happy. They hate seeing me this messed up.”
Shannon nods. “I think your friends have your best interests at heart.”
I smile weakly as a beat of silence passes us by.
“And Noah? Have you talked to him like we discussed?”
I shake my head, my lips falling into a frown. “Not yet.”
After the cops walked me out of the forest, Noah and I locked gazes. Whatever he saw in my eyes, it helped him put the pieces of the puzzle together. Phantom was no longer alive.
“My mom told me yesterday on the phone that he started seeing a mental health practitioner too, though.”
Shannon smiles brightly. “That’s great news.”
I bob my chin once. “Yeah. I’m proud of him.”
“It sounds like you’re not feeling as betrayed by him as you were when we first met,” she observes.
I sigh. “If I’m being honest, I think I’ve already started to forgive him. He’s a good person. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
Shannon asks, “Do you think you might be motivated to rekindle your relationship with him?”
“As a friend, sure. Someday.”
Shannon nods again. “And how have you been feeling since deleting your social media accounts?”
I grin widely at that question. “I feel a lot better. I hadn’t realized how much it had crept into every facet of my life.
Now when I paint or am with friends, I’m so much more present.
I appreciate the moment more because I know I won’t get to relive it through a photo or a video.
Every glance at a painting is a blessing.
Every laugh from a friend is precious. It’s a very . . . different way of living life.”
Shannon’s eyebrows arch, urging me to continue.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for social media. After all, it’s what originally connected me with Phantom, but I’m glad to be taking a break from it. Phantom wanted me to live my life to the fullest. And now it feels like I am.”
“That’s wonderful, Maeve. Thank you for sharing all that with me. Same time tomorrow?” Shannon asks as she rises to stand.
“Yeah,” I say as I collect my things and wave goodbye.
As I walk down the unadorned beige halls of the medical building, I feel lighter.
After speaking with Shannon, it’s clear to see how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time.
I laugh at myself for a moment as I exit the building.
I should have been going to therapy for a long time.
But better late than never. Before I can help others, I have to help myself.
“How was it?” Emmy asks as I climb into her car.
“Good, thanks.”
“Where to?” she asks as I buckle myself in. “I can text the others and see if they want to all go and grab some dinner?”
“Ah, there’s actually something I need to do first,” I say. Emmy gives me a questioning look. “It’s my therapy homework,” I clarify.
“Say no more.”
“Can you drop me off at the quad?”
Her lips curl skyward. “Gladly.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m waving bye to Emmy as she drives away. Since my therapist’s office is kind of far from campus, she’d been my ride for the past two weeks. I thank her every time, but it’s not enough to express my gratitude.
I walk around the outskirts of the quad, making my way between two specific buildings. The buildings I walked between on my very first day here, and the ones I’ve walked between every day since Phantom died.
My throat burns as I approach the mural, the same way it does every time.
“Hey babe,” I mutter quietly.
As usual, the bird in the mural remains silent.
Since I don’t have a headstone to visit or an urn to turn to, I figured this was the next best thing.
“I have to do something hard today,” I murmur, brushing my fingertips against the faded brick.
“I have to ask your grandmother’s permission to let me come to your funeral.
I don’t want to, but I think Shannon is right.
I’ll regret it later if I don’t advocate for myself now.
” I swallow hard. “At least one person who truly loved you should be there.”
I frown at the dull green and blue paint that make up the bird’s eyes. No paint could ever mimic those colors.
“Wish me luck,” I say, turning away. “I’ll be back tomorrow to let you know how it goes.” I take a deep breath. “I hope you’re at peace, painting in the stars.”
It’s the same phrase I say every time I walk away. It feels better than goodbye.
I don’t delay the inevitable. I walk straight to the administration building, past the confused receptionist, and up to Dean Reithart’s office door. My hand shakes as I knock. While I wait for her to answer, I take three calming breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth.
The heavy wooden door swings open.
“Ms. Johnson. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dean Reithart’s dark, silver-streaked hair is braided in a neat plait down her back and she’s dressed in a smart, fitted suit.
I press my lips together in a futile attempt to stop my chin from quivering before finding the courage to say, “I wanted to ask you a question, Dean Reithart.”
She opens the door wider and gestures for me to enter with an open palm. “Of course. Come on in. Take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” I bite my lip and hesitate.
A knowing gleam in her misty eyes, she asks, “This is about Phantom, isn’t it?”
I nod and avoid her gaze.
“The detectives told me you two were romantically involved.” A lengthy pause. “In all my sixty years, I’d never been more glad to hear anything.”
My gaze snaps to hers just in time to watch a single tear fall.
“My daughter and son-in-law—myself, even—we didn’t do right by that child, and they suffered miserably for it. I’ll carry that regret with me to my grave.”
My mouth pops open at her confession.
“I’m grateful they found a partner in this wretched world. A kind-hearted soul that loved and accepted them the way they deserved.”
I relax at the obvious sincerity in her tremulous tone. “I did love Phantom. Which is why I’d like to ask your permission to attend their funeral on Saturday.”
Dean Reithart studies my face for a moment. “Well, my daughter and son-in-law won’t like it, but to be quite frank with you, I don’t really give a damn. I’d very much like for you to come. They won’t argue as long as you’re with me. What do you say? Meet here at nine o’clock?”
I’m so stunned I almost can’t conjure the words to reply. “I—uh, I mean, yes ma’am. Nine o’clock.”
“Lovely.” She walks forward and embraces me gently, briefly. “Thank you, my dear.”
My mind is reeling as I walk back to my dorm, but the weight in my chest lightens. Phantom’s grandmother loved them too, even though she’d made mistakes, and hadn’t always been able to show it.
That counts for something. In fact, it counts for everything.