Page 19 of If Only You Hurt

Grant had packed my apartment off campus when I left Wyoming, and I have no plans to use the items again. I need a fresh start. I don’t want to look at my things and remember where I had them last. That apartment is a part of me that signifies the old Laney, and I’m not trying to go back to that exact version of myself. However, finding a purpose with the experiences I lived through needs to be put at the forefront of my mental recovery.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I sort of let your sister know my plans. I didn’t want her to be blindsided with you moving. She is on board driving out here to get you settled. If that’s something that interests you, you can talk to her.” I know how close Becca is with my sister, and it doesn’t surprise me, nor does it bother me that she spoke to Ellie.

My sister has been worried, and I think Becca didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes with this offer. Now I just need to speak to my parents. I know that they’re worried about me, and I will have to be patient as they wrap their heads around me leaving. As much as that day changed the trajectory of my life, it brought to the forefront of my parents’ minds that the world wasn’t what we thought it was. There’s a piece of uncertainty with our safety we are never guaranteed, and the shooting really highlighted that for not only me but for everyone around me.

“That’s no problem. I’m going to Ellie’s later, so I’ll chat with her then. I guess I’ll see you soon.” A small smile takes over my face, and it might be the first time I’ve smiled, a genuine smile, since that morning I was chatting with Artie.

“Great. I’m so happy to have you. I think you’ll really love immersing yourself in the city. It’s got something for everyone.” She takes a moment to take a breath, and I know she’s got more to say. I can’t help the uptick in my heart rate. “Also, Laney, do you mind reaching out to Grant? He’s missing you, and I noticed when he was here over the holidays that he’s driving himself crazy with worry from not hearing from you as much as he used to.”

I’ve been distant with everyone, but most of all with Grant. The morning of the shooting had started on such a high for me. I had something exciting to tell him, and now I’m empty inside. I don’t know how to tackle this side of me, and it feels like an out-of-body experience in many ways. Am I broken? That’s something I ask myself constantly. I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself, yet I have no idea how to fix that feeling.

“Yeah. I’ve been a little quiet, which is new for us. I’ll reach out and talk to him.” I just hope I can muster the strength to call him and actually have more than a two-minute conversation.

“Okay, great. Don’t shut him out, Laney. I know you’re going through something none of us can relate to, but just know that all of us, including Grant, come from a place of love. We are here to support you in whatever way we can.” I can hear the relief in Becca’s voice when she speaks.

We finish our call, and I feel the tear fall down my cheek. I feel lost, either in myself or in this world. I haven’t figured out which yet. I wish I could say I hung up with Becca and called Grant, but I just couldn’t deal with connecting with the one person who holds a piece of me in his heart. I feel myself cocooning into myself, and I have no clue how to pull away from the fear I am feeling and reach for the things I once thought were easily attainable. I think I need to figure out who I will be from this point on in life, but a part of me will hold the weight of what could have been on my shoulders as I walk this earth for the rest of my life.

Chapter Nine

GRANT

Winter 2013

My sister comes down the stairs, and I’m in the kitchen coloring with her kids. My heart is racing in anticipation of hearing what Laney had to say about the offer to move to New York. I can feel the uptick in my pulse, and I just want to know if I can expect to see Laney here or not at some point in the near future. I miss my best friend. I miss seeing her smile. Most of all, I miss seeing life in her eyes.

The last time I was with her, she seemed empty. She barely spoke and simply sat quietly by my side. Oddly enough, it wasn’t that the interaction was uncomfortable but the fact that she still looked lost. The worst realization is that the version of Laney I have known all of my life seems to be a memory, and this person in her place will now have to conform to a new lifestyle.

I feel like she is never going to be the same, but that doesn’t mean she will never shine the way she used to. Even with so much of her light dimmed, my love for her remains. I feel even more love for her because the appreciation I feel for her still living in this world overwhelms me with gratitude.

I hear my sister’s footsteps as she enters the kitchen, and I put the crayon down and wait for her. The moment she looks over at me, the smile on her face tells me that Laney agreed to her proposition. I let out a breath, and tremendous relief washes over me.

I move the chair back, the noise causing Mallory and Jackson to cover their ears, and I walk over to Becca, my strides eating the distance between us quickly, and hug her. Without saying a word, I know that this is a step in a different direction and, hopefully, one that will pull my Laney back to the surface. But that’s the thing about love: no matter what version I get of her, I just want to see her again.

I want to feel her warmth in my hands. I want to feel her heart beating when I lay my head down on her chest. I cannot take a moment on this earth without her soul with me. She gives me life in a way that’s hard to describe. My next breath is dependent on her being here, and I will do everything in my power to show her that she is loved beyond all the pain the world tries to throw at her.

Eight days. That’s how long it takes to see Laney. She drove into the city with her sister. They made their way across a handful of states, and she’s finally here. I’m upstairs in the hallway, looking out the window of my sister’s brownstone, and I decide to wait in the room Laney will be staying in.

I hear my sister, Ellie, and Laney downstairs and I take a seat on the bed in Laney’s new room. What was once a reunion with laughter and screams is now muted, much like the version of Laney I have come to acknowledge is her at this point in life.

I hear my sister tell Laney that her room is upstairs and down the hall. Next, I hear soft footsteps moving up the stairs, slowly in what I imagine is Laney, taking in what is now her new home. The door opens slowly to reveal my beautiful girl. It’s at that moment I realize that this is not a sprint but a marathon, slow and steady, to show Laney I’m here to stay. I can’t fathom loving another human being the way I love her. But I think I have to take my time to get her to the point where she’ll accept my love in that way.

“Hi,” she says, almost in a whisper. I can’t describe her demeanor as shy like I’ve seen in the past when she felt bashful. It’s almost as if she’s hesitant to enjoy this moment because she now knows how fragile life is after experiencing something so tragic.

“Hey, Bean. I missed you.” I stand, rubbing my hands down my jeans, then slowly move closer to her.

I haven’t spoken to her since Christmas day. I texted her on New Year's, but I only got a heart emoji as a response. That’s how it’s been between us since that day months ago, me putting everything on the line and her taking what she can handle. I get it, she’s hurting. It’s not my job to push but to nurture, and that’s exactly what I’ll do for as long as she’ll let me.

I get as close as I know she’s comfortable with and then open my arms out and watch as she slowly moves toward me and rests her cheek against my chest. I started seeing a therapist after the shooting, trying to wrap my head around how I can support the woman I love by whatever means possible to show her she is loved. In therapy, I learned to allow Laney the ability to make decisions about how she wants to move forward, not making her feel trapped or smothered.

The moment she rests her cheek against my chest, I envelop her in my arms and feel the warmth radiating off her body. Touching her, feeling life coursing through her body, is a feeling I will never get sick of. The fear I held while traveling back to the States after hearing of the shooting nearly broke me. I didn’t know what state I would find Laney in, and when I saw she was in one piece, I was grateful. I promised myself that no matter what, as long as she was okay, I could deal with the rest. I didn’t account for the fact that inside, she would be broken, but I was willing to put in the effort to help her navigate this new normal she was now living in.

Soon, I feel her body shake, and I know she’s crying. I feel her tears wet my shirt, and I know that she’s overwhelmed by so much. Something else I learned in my few sessions of therapy is that each day, each moment, holds a new piece of sorrow for her. That each happy moment will come with it a million moments of regret for feeling even a second of joy.

The fact that Laney survived means that she also carries the pain of that day in all her movements. Each joyous moment will be tainted in a way, and I have to be aware that there will be guilt walking side-by-side with beauty for her. It’s not my job to cover up what happened but to allow her the space to process each experience. And a huge thing to remember is not to allow her to feel shame. Her feelings are warranted and valid. So, in each step forward, as much as it pains me to see her like this, I have to accept that she needs time and safety to allow herself to come out of this shell she has put herself in.

Once she pulls herself away, she looks up at me, and I could swear I see a little more life coming through in her eyes. I think this move is exactly what she needed. I hope she embraces everything this city has to offer. I know living here brought me immense joy, feeling like I belonged in the hustle and bustle of this New York life.

“So, you drew the short straw and have to help me unpack?” She looks up at me, and I know she’s putting in some effort, trying to throw a joke out where possible.

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