Chapter 49
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
My palms are sweaty as I knock on Adhira’s door, waiting for a biting remark that I’ll pretend doesn’t bother me because I know, deep down, she doesn’t mean it. Instead, I’m met with the more difficult alternative. Silence.
My shoulders slump as I drop my chin to my chest, dragging in a painful breath between clenched teeth. I head out into the quiet corridor, shut the door behind me, and make my way down to the brightly lit lobby.
The reception desk is unmanned, and the semi-private seating area remains unoccupied. I check the time on my phone, hustling over to the cream-coloured leather seat in the furthest corner before plonking down and popping my earbuds in.
I busy myself with checking my texts and responding to the Thigh Daddies chat.
Nakoa
Hey brother, let us know if you need anything. We can come over and keep you company tonight?
Jelani
You're not alone, luv. I know you weren't as close with Archie as Adhira was, but that doesn't mean you aren't hurting. Just know that we're here.
Rafael
I'm happy to drop by or pick you up. You don't have to deal with this by yourself.
My chest warms as I read through their messages. They've been checking on me since I updated them about Adhira's last infusion, and it's an incredible feeling to have people in my life I can count on for support, rather than always having to be a pillar of strength for everyone else.
Thanks for checking in. I'm about to have a call with the ladies to update them on how Adhira's doing. I'll let you blokes know how I'm feeling after.
Their call comes through a moment later, a whoosh of air leaving my lips as I wait for their voices to filter through my earbuds.
“How’s she holding up?” Elise asks, her voice taking on a more soothing, tentative quality than I’ve heard before.
“Not well. She was crying a lot the first few days, but honestly? I’m more worried now that she’s stopped crying.” I cover my face with my palms, and a frustrated groan passes my lips at how utterly helpless I feel. “She’s not eating, and she’s been doing her damnedest to push me away.”
“And you?” Chelsea asks, and my brows knit in confusion.
“Me?” What about me?
“How are you holding up?” Chelsea asks. “I know you and Adhira have a relationship you might not even know how to define, but you care for her; that much is clear. So this must be difficult for you.”
“And you'd known Archie, too, Elijah,” Letty adds. “Just because Adhira knew him longer doesn't mean this isn't your loss as well.”
My gut roils as I bite back a sob. No one ever stops to ask how I am. I’ve always been expected to take on the caretaker role in every situation in my life, but people don’t make sure I’m taking care of myself. No one besides Adhira, that is, and she's lost to her own pain right now.
It’s overwhelming to have so many people checking in on my wellbeing.
“I’m—” I swallow thickly. “I miss her. I’m exhausted from worrying about her, and I feel bloody useless. All I want to do is ease her pain, and I don’t know how. I feel horrible for Archie’s family, but I'm just glad I got to know him at all. I'm honoured to have memories with him.”
“You know, Elijah…” Letty starts, her melodic tone acting like a strange kind of balm over my aching, bloodied soul.
“I’ve known a lot of loss in my life, and I’ve found love in some of the most unlikely people.
Adhira is one of them, no matter how much she complains about me to my face,” she adds with a chuckle that loosens the shackles around my heart.
“She might have a tough exterior, and maybe it’s easier for her to push people away because she thinks it’ll be less painful if they ever leave, but she feels everything.
She just doesn’t show it in the same way neurotypical people might, and I think that’s not only okay, but beautiful.
Because when you’ve earned her trust enough to see the side of her she’s allowed you to catch a front-row seat to, it means she’s let down all her walls. ”
Her words fill me with a gratified warmth, and I’m thankful for these women and their love for Adhira—a woman who's become far more to me than my flatmate.
I hear a smacking sound followed by, “Ow. What the hell was that for?”
“That was very poetic of you, Letty,” Chelsea says with a snicker.
“She’s right, though, you know,” Elise cuts in, and in the background, I can hear Chelsea and Letty bickering.
The sound pulls at the edges of my lips, curving them into a smile.
“You’re special to Adhira, and while it’s not an excuse for her pushing you away, I think she’s doing it to save herself some of the heartbreak by making you leave before you can leave her first.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, clearing the lump from my throat. “So, do you all have any suggestions for something we could do to make her feel better?”
“I’m sorry, Elijah, but I think this just needs to run its course,” Elise says. “She will eventually work it out, but I think it’s important that none of us pushes her.”
“And if I had to guess, I’d say there’s something more going on beneath the surface that she’s struggling with. From everything you’ve shared with us the last few days, this seems pretty abnormal behaviour for her,” Letty chimes in.
“Yeah, I know grief can make people act irrationally, but her reaction feels like she's processing this loss a lot more head-on than she usually would,” Chelsea says.
“When she's grieved previously, she's sort of closed herself off, but sobbing and locking herself away is a complete one-eighty from how she normally handles upsetting situations.”
I haven't known her as long as her friends, but I've been thinking the same—worrying there's more to her reaction than meets the eye.
“Just hang in there, okay?” Chelsea adds.
“And please continue to keep us posted on how you’re both holding up,” Elise says.
“I will, thank you, ladies. Sleep tight,” I say, ending the call.
I slump into the seat, reclining my head and closing my eyes as I come to terms with everything that’s transpired over the last few days.
I replay our conversations, even picking through memories of Adhira and me on the hammock after she’d been sobbing in the shower, and it hits me right in the gut that I hadn’t realised it sooner.
Much like her hair loss, Archie’s passing, while heartbreaking in its own right, is another physical manifestation of the ways cancer steals from you.
His death was not only the painful loss of a friend; it was a reminder of her own mortality.
And I can’t blame her for being terrified, especially when I am too.