Page 32 of The Cabin
“It’d be best.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“He’d be angry.”
“Huh? Who would be angry?”
“He. He would be. Because I promised him I’d live. I promised him…that I wouldn’t just stay alive, but live. But I don’t want to, Tess.”
“Don’t want to what?”
“Live.” A bloody silence. “Not without…him.”
Fuck. Here it comes.day unknownPeople talk jokingly about having a breakdown, but unless they’ve really experienced it, they don’t know.
Imagine, or remember if you’re that unfortunate, crying so hard every bone rattles inside your skin. Crying so hard you wonder if you’ve gone literally blind, because the salt of the river of tears has seared away your eyes. Crying so hard your chest feels like it’s clamped in a white-hot vise.
Then multiply that by a thousand.
Crying so hard you can’t physically function. You can’t breathe. And when you do breathe, it’s a hoarse scream.
Screaming until your throat bleeds.
And it doesn’t end.
You’ve been expecting this for weeks.
Pent it up inside a vault of vodka and silence and denial.
Now, the interest is due on that grief.
It’s come collecting, and it has no mercy.
This kind of sorrow is utterly savage.
It’s the army that razes the city to the ground, raping and killing everyone within, but doesn’t stop there. It burns the wreckage, and then salts the earth where the city once stood.
I’ve burned through the alcohol—my misery is entirely sober, now.
When I start clawing at my face and chest and arms until I bleed, just to feel anything besides this ravaging misery is when Tess sticks me with a needle.After that, the ferocity is spent. Now, I’m just merely paralyzed by grief. Literally. I cannot even get out of bed. I tried, but my legs wouldn’t support me, and I fell to the floor and hit my head so hard I saw stars.
I lie in bed for an endless amount of time, crying, sobbing. The sound of it must be awful.I run out of tears, at some point. That’s when I finally sleep, my first nonchemical-assisted sleep in almost a month.
When I wake up, an unknown amount of time later, I discover a renewed reservoir of tears.day unknown“Nadia?” Tess, hesitant, quiet. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” My voice is hoarse; I sound like a twenty-year pack-a-day smoker.
“Can I come sit with you?”
“Please.”
Her weight dips the bed beside me. “I wish I knew what to ask besides if you’re okay. I know that’s not even a real question.”
“I don’t know.” It’s the only words that come to mind.
“The lawyer called. The executor of…of the estate.”
“Estate.” I repeat it, but it still has no meaning.
She’s tiptoeing, for good reason.
“Say his name, Tess. I can’t.”
“Adrian.”
“Adrian,” I repeat, in a ragged whisper. “Adrian.” Silence. “Adrian Robert Bell.”
More tears, but quieter, now.
“I miss him so much,” I hiss.
“I know you do, I’m so sorry.”
“What does the lawyer want?”
“I don’t know. He says he’s not allowed to share details with anyone but you. He says he only needs a few minutes. He can come here, or we can meet him at his office.”
“Why.”
“Adrian left a will. And he, the lawyer, has to read it to you, or however that works.”
“Oh.” I sniffle. “How long has it been?”
“Since…when?”
“Since Adrian…” I have to force myself to say it. So it will be real. “Since Adrian—died.” The word is hissed, whispered, broken.
“It will be one month ago this Friday. That’s in two days.”
“Tell him we’ll meet him at his office Friday afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“Tess?”
“Yup.”
“Did I…did I hurt you?” I have fuzzy memories of a struggle when I was mad with grief. It was fury, too. The real deal. Complete loss of all control and coherency.
“It’s fine.”
“Tess.”
She sighs. “Yeah, you did. You were kicking and screaming and clawing at yourself.” Her voice is shaky. “You were in the tub because it was the only place I could get you that you wouldn’t…hurt yourself on something. I was worried I’d have to, like, call for professional help. You were pretty out of your head. You left me with some bruises, but I’m fine.”
I look at her, really look. She’s my height, tall, but way curvier. Her mom was black, her dad white, so she’s got skin somewhere in between, with curly black hair and hazel eyes. She’s paler than usual, with bags under her eyes. She’s lost weight, and not in a good way. She didn’t need to.
She has the remains of a healing black eye, the awful purples and greens and yellows.
“Holy shit, Tess. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, you warned me.”
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
She lies on the bed behind me and spoons me. “It’s fine, boo. I love you. I’m here. I forgave you beforehand, remember?”
“I miss him so fucking much.”
“I can’t even begin to understand.”
“I wonder what…what Adrian left in his will?” I say. “He handled all our finances, but as far as I’m aware, it’s not like we had a lot of stuff or investments for him to leave.”
