Page 26 of If Only You Hurt

“The kids probably brought something home from school. I think I’ve been fighting it all week, now that I think about it. I went to bed early, and I think I’m just getting it out of my system. Best keep your distance, ‘boyfriend.’” I use air quotes for the term that Tad used, noting Grant didn’t correct him. Although neither did I.

This doesn’t seem to appease Grant, as he watches me walk out of the bathroom and move throughout the studio, cleaning up the yoga room and then shutting everything off. I get my coat on, along with my puffy boots, and wait for Grant to walk out with me. He’s been quiet since I had my little episode in the restroom. I know he’s taking everything in. I’m going to let him do that. I have an evening out to prepare for.

We start to walk toward the house when he finally speaks up. “You think it’s a good idea to go out tonight?” His words are laced with concern.

I roll my eyes. “Grant, it’s fine. It was probably the sandwich I ate yesterday. It did sit funny after I finished it. Maybe the deli meat went bad. I’ll be fine. I went to bed early, and even with the crazy dreams thrown in there, I got enough hours to get through the night out. I’m fine.” I feel like I’m not just saying this to him but to myself. I cannot get sick right before everyone comes over next week. That would make for an awful Thanksgiving celebration. Usually, I’m the first to bail on going out somewhere, but now that Grant is back, I’m excited to try something new tonight with all of us hanging out.

“Well, I can cancel with Timothy tonight if you want. I can just go with you girls to the bar instead of meeting you there later.” I know he’s worried, but this is a bit much.

“No, Grant. Go out with Timothy. I know you’ve been meaning to see him the last few times you’ve been in town, and you haven’t had the opportunity. Go, have fun, then meet when you’re done. I think my sister needs some girl time, so this will work perfectly.”

We reach the stairs leading to the brownstone. Grant seems to be dressed to head out to see his friend, so he doesn’t need more time to get ready. Of course, after he feels my forehead to ensure I don’t have a fever before turning to look for his Uber. I think he forgets his sister is the one with the medical degree, not him.

I roll my eyes but follow it up with a smile, and he gives me a small smirk in return. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, but as he turns to walk away, I grab his hand and give him a proper kiss goodbye. He doesn’t hesitate and returns the kiss, my body feeling like jelly as I feel myself melt into him. Then, as quickly as we started this connection, he pulls away, and I watch him walk toward the awaiting car.

I watch him walk away and I can’t help but notice how easy life would be if we simply molded into the couple we could be together. For a split second I forget how quickly that can come crashing down the moment I open up to him completely.

I make my way into the house to get myself ready to hang out with two of my favorite women. However, even after telling Grant how much better I feel, I realize I’m going to need some coffee or something. I can already feel my eyelids drooping.

The music is pumping, and I feel a little lighter tonight. My sister and Becca are beside me, and we are all letting go. Becca recently reconnected with her old high school boyfriend, and I can see this is the happiest she’s ever been. She looks free in a way I didn’t realize she lacked before. I guess there’s something about love that simply carries us to a different dimension in this life. I hope I can open myself up in the way I’ve seen her do these last few months with Shane.

The number of people that were here when we arrived was not too overwhelming, but then the crowd starts to multiply and I see more people get on the dance floor. Even with me working hard to merge into this part of my life again, it’s hard to feel confined in a small space with a lot of people.

That day in Wyoming, I wasn’t in a crowded room, nor was I in a place where I ever imagined my life could be in danger. But the claustrophobia I now experience rises from the fact that I don’t want to feel trapped. I think that feeling of being unable to get out is a feeling that simply overwhelms me to my core.

My eyes are dashing left and right, and I feel my pulse accelerate. Right then, I feel a set of hands move around my hips. The moment I’m about to react to being touched without permission, I look up to find Grant gazing down at me. The minute I register his presence, I feel my whole body relax. He’s a balm to my nerves, a source of calm in the storm.

“It’s okay, Bean. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen. Just close your eyes and feel the music.” I feel him move behind me, swaying his hips, my body moving at the same rhythm, and all I feel is love when, a moment ago, I felt hesitation.

I hear Becca pull Grant’s attention for a moment, and I can’t help but chuckle at her scolding of Grant for not greeting her. It’s pretty funny to see her all worked up, but the moment Grant gives her his puppy eyes, she caves every single time.

They share the same eye color, but something about the way Grant uses his charm pulls everyone into his orbit when he wants their praise. He’s magnetic and vibrant in a way that no one else has been for me.

As the two Stanley siblings have their little squabble, I feel eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and I can’t help swinging my gaze from left to right, unable to shake that feeling I’m being watched. I look all around me, but the people are filtering onto the dance floor quickly as the music picks up. Just then, I feel my hand being pulled and I focus on the man in front of me.

Grant pulls me from my thoughts and that unease washes away. Grant’s attention is purely on me again, and I feel us moving further into the crowd. I know what he’s doing, trying to get me more comfortable surrounded by bodies moving on this dance floor. I’m lost in his touch, forgetting the panic that was coursing through my system moments before he arrived.

We sway, moving to the beat of the music and caressing one another with our hands everywhere, except in the places I need him most. This dance is like our foreplay, and for some reason, that’s the only place my mind has gone. I crave him in a way I haven’t really leaned in to for so long. But since our trip out west, I feel like I’ve opened Pandora's box, and I need to feel us together in an intimate way again.

After what feels like hours later, although it most likely wasn’t that long, I feel my eyes get heavy. I’m wiped in a way I haven’t felt. Whatever I was fighting earlier, it’s still making its way out of my system. The nausea has subsided at least and from what I can tell, no one in my sister’s house has caught it yet.

I look up at Grant, and he can see from my expression that I’ve exceeded my limit on being around so many people. My battery drains faster when I’m surrounded by an excessive number of people in a public place. I focus so much to get through a scenario that the moment I succeed, my body succumbs to the anxiety and stress and needs rest.

We make our way through the dance floor, finding Becca and Ellie still moving to the beat of this nineties music they grew up around in their teens. I say my goodbyes, Grant promising to get me home safely.

I know that Grant will spend the night. My sister knows he either stays at her house or crashes on the couch at his sister’s place. Tonight, I think he’ll be sharing a bed with me because I long for his comfort.

Grabbing my coat from the booth we were sitting at earlier, placing it on my back, and interlacing his fingers through mine, we make our way through the exit, and the cold of the evening hits me like a slap to the face.

We aren’t far from the house, so we use this time to walk through the neighborhood, enjoying some of those who have decorated their houses for the holidays already. I have always loved this time of year, and it’s taken me time to finally feel like I can embrace this season the way I once did years ago. Slowly, I’m picking up pieces of myself that were once a normal part of my personality before the shooting. That one day truly catapulted my life into a completely different direction, and I feel like I’m seeing myself rise from those ashes bit by bit.

My strides have been great but also slow as I maneuver life since the attack. I think that’s what has been the most surprising. The nightmares afterward were expected, but years later, I find myself frustrated that I can still wake up in a cold sweat. People talk so much about how an event like a mass shooting is devastating, protesting gun control and fighting for change, but soon the news outlets move on, a new tragedy hitting us from another direction. The survivors are left to deal with the aftermath, and the desertion is felt in a way I can’t explain.

What I experienced has become too common. Now, when another shooting occurs, it’s almost like we expect it in a way. The tragedy of that realization is devastating for me. I am here, struggling to put one foot in front of the other while the world carries on.

The post-traumatic stress I suffered then and continue to walk through life holding will never leave. I can learn to cope, but it’s now a chronic issue for me. Like a disease that I will never find a cure for. For everyone who watches the news and simply pleads with the universe to never let that happen to them, countless others and I are struggling to navigate for a lifetime ahead.

I might be living my life now, finding ways to strive, but people forget my efforts are still an uphill battle. I keep the little control I can within my world so I can feel comforted. On nights like tonight, I’m reminded I can push my limits, but the exhaustion I experience afterward takes over.

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