Page 18 of Glad You're Here

“Of course not. I went to Mesa Verde National Park today.” He pointed at the angel on my porch. “This one is cool. It’s like an imperfect anti-angel. Did you make it?”

The anti-angel. Damn. I liked that. “Uh, no. I bought it at a farmer’s market. I’m good with paint, not 3D objects.” I stepped back to let Levi into my house. “How was Mesa Verde?” I’d been on several school field trips to see the famous cliff dwellings and knew them well.

Levi smiled. “Awesome. I think I like hiking. I think it could be my thing.” He glanced around my cluttered living room and kitchen. There were dishes in the sink from days ago, stacks of junk mail on the counter, and laundry piled on my squishy yellow sofa. The garbage needed to be taken out. I’d been playing that game to see how much more I could shove in for two days.

But all he said was, “Are all these paintings yours?” He’d only been looking at the art on my walls.

“Uh, most of them.”

“Wow. You’re crazy talented.” He made his way around my living room, examining each painting. Somehow, it made me feel naked and like he could see right into my black soul when he looked at my art, especially when he stopped at my self-portrait. I’d painted a midnight black demon with glowing red eyes and, over the top, my translucent human face.

Levi reached out and ran his hands over my face in the painting. “Whoa,” he whispered.

It felt like he’d gently run his fingers over my actual face, and I flinched at the tenderness. I cleared my throat. “So I’m in tons of pain today, and I’m going to hang out on my bed. There’s a TV in there so we can watch something. If it’s weird for you to sit on my bed, the floor is super comfy.” I turned and headed for my bedroom, feeling slightly shaky.

Levi followed me and said, “I’m sorry you’re in pain. Is there anything I can do?”

“Shut up.” I climbed into my bed, feeling so done talking about myself. “What should we watch?”

Levi studied my face for a minute, but I refused to make eye contact. Finally, he sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, looking like he did feel uncomfortable in my bedroom. “I’ve heard the Deadpool movies are awesome.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you a Marvel fan?”

He glared at me. “Maybe. So what, Thea?”

“Superhero movies are so cliché! But, fine. Deadpool it is!”

Halfway into the first movie, Levi finally made his way up my bed to lean against my extra pillow. He kept his arms folded and legs crossed. His entire body seemed rigid, and he kept several feet between us. I thought messing with him and scooting a little closer might be fun. Would he scoot away? If he moved any farther, he’d fall off the bed. I imagined the whole scene and laughed out loud.

Levi smiled, probably thinking I’d succumbed to Ryan Reynolds’ wit. I would never.

“Are you hungry? We should order something,” Levi said.

He distracted me from my plan with food. Well played. “Chinese!” I yelled before he could suggest anything else. I’d been craving mushroom chicken and chow mein all day. I still had the tab open on my laptop to order from Golden Spoon. I winced in pain as I tried to stand.

Levi jumped up. “Don’t move. What do you need?”

I rolled my eyes but laid back on my pillows. “My laptop is on the kitchen table. I already have the food I want entered on the website for Golden Spoon.”

“I’m on it.”

Half of me wanted to protest, while the other half didn’t want to move again for the rest of the night. I could let Levi order the damn food. What could that hurt?

A few minutes later, Levi returned to my room carrying my laptop and looking somber. “Uh, so the food is ordered.” He set my computer on my nightstand and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “Look, I know this is none of my business, and honestly, I didn’t mean to read it. It was open on your laptop, and the first line caught my eye…”

He trailed off, and my stomach clenched as the realization hit me. I wrote another suicide letter before I curled up in bed. This one was short. It said:

It’s agony, and I’m done. I don’t want to exist anymore. Don’t waste your tears when I’m gone. I was never worth it.

I sat up quickly and snatched my laptop from the nightstand. “Shit,” I mumbled. No one had seen these. No one knew I wrote them. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t owe Levi an explanation, but I dreaded the pity and the offer to help that was sure to leave Levi’s mouth in the next ten seconds. I didn’t want the damn suicide hotline number or the suggestion to try therapy again.

I prepared to tell him to leave when he sat softly on the edge of my bed. “I’ve been there.” He studied the wood grain on my bedroom floor. “After I told my wife I didn’t believe anymore and stopped going to church, I felt useless, worthless, and like the world would be better off without me. Then she told the rest of my family, thinking that would help save me. It made everything worse, and I turned fully suicidal.”

He sat up straight and met my curious gaze. How did he talk so openly about his pain? Levi sighed and continued. “It’s hard to say what snapped me out of it. I guess I woke up one day and wanted my life — not the one I had, but the one I would create.” He rested his hand on my knee and said, “I hope you want your life one day, Thea.”

Typically, that would have felt patronizing and would have ignited my fury, but coming from Levi, it felt entirely genuine. His hand on my knee felt so perfect and gentle, too. I didn’t even want to swat it away. “I’m not…” I swallowed. “I’m not going to hurt myself. It’s this weird thing I do because death fascinates me. I… my mom…” my voice shook. The last person I’d ever told about my mom was Jo when we were thirteen. My ex-boyfriend of two years didn’t even know. I always told him she died in a car accident, which was partially true.

“Thea,” Levi’s thumb stroked my knee where it rested. It comforted me and stilled my racing heart. “You don’t have to explain.” His eyes were so warm and honest.

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