Page 21 of All Your Firsts Without Me

April

I haven’t been back to the cemetery since that night. I’m embarrassed to say the least. And yet I’m not. Teresa and Jeff have both been staying with me for the past few weeks. He gave me something to help me sleep the first couple of nights.

I’m not sure how much time passed, but they tell me I cried for three days straight. The only thing that made me stop was the threat of them taking me to the hospital. They didn’t actually threaten me. But I overhead them, between sobs. So, I had no choice but to pull myself together. I can’t be locked away. No. I can’t let that happen.

“You sure you’re going to be okay tonight?” Teresa asks.

“Yes,” I plaster on my fake smile. “You two have done too much already. I… I need to do this on my own at some point. I’m fine. Really.” I squeeze her hands in mine as she gazes at me warily.

I wave to them as they drive away.

The loneliness sinks in almost immediately. It’s like stepping away from a fire in autumn. The chill instantly seeps in. I kick a rock, thinking about opening a letter. I still haven’t read one. It’s silly. I know there are so many, it’s not like I’ll run out anytime soon, but…

Instead of reading a letter, I sit down in the closet, still full of his clothes. I leave the light off and pull the door closed, settling back between his shoes. I reach up and tug one of his shirts off the hanger, pulling it to my nose.

I want to bury myself in your chest and listen to your beating heart. I want your hands teasing across my skin at the small of my back. I want the rumble of your voice.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

My throat tightens and I fight the urge to run to the cemetery. To stare at his name. To lie on his grave.

He was the glue that held all my broken bits together. And each time a piece of me started to fall off, he glued it back together with his warm hands and calm voice. Now, I have nothing. Just things. I need him. I need him.I need him.

My hand runs along the wall, finding the shoe box I tucked in the back corner under an old suitcase. I pull it onto my lap. I’ve hidden the key to the other side in here. He will be mad that I’ve batted out of order as he likes to call it, but….

I pull the lid off, digging inside for the pills I’d hidden. My fingers don’t find what I’m looking for. Instead, I find a single sheet of paper.

My fist pounds into the soft carpet beside me. He knew. Of course, he knew.

From the moment I met David, he saw me. He could predict my every move. It was comforting. He loved me unconditionally. Flaws and all.

Everyone saw a girl in the basement. I’m sure I was a fascinating specimen. But he saw more than that. He saw me. And believe me it couldn’t have been easy. I had buried myself so far down, I don’t know if the devil or God himself could have found me.

I grip the letter in my hand and push the closet door open, crawling out and climbing up on the bed. Lying on my stomach, I read the letter he left in my escape box.

Baby,

I know it hurts but this is not the way to handle it. You know that. But here we are. So, we will get through this together, yeah? Okay, first of all, go make a cup of hot chocolate. I bought the kind you like with the little colored marshmallows. It’s in the pantry, second shelf to the left. When that’s done, take it and this letter to the couch.

First the coffee, now this? But I do what he says because it almost feelslike he’s here.

With a steaming cup and the letter, I settle on the couch.

I take a sip, a big breath, and continue.

Good. Now, let’s talk. Have you been reading my other letters? No. Hmm. Why not? You know you can save them and read them over and over as many times as needed, right? The letters were the only way I knew to soothe your hurt. Please read them. Please let me help you.

I’m not disappointed in you either. Losing someone hurts. If this were the other way around, I know I would feel the same. But I’m glad it’s not. You are young. So young. Please live. If that’s all you can do right now is live, that is okay. Just don’t bat out of order. That, little diamond, is an order.

I smile, a little flutter erupting in my belly at his words.

Okay, so now I want you to turn on the TV and don’t roll your eyes at me. Trust me.

I flick the television on.

This is to remind you that there is life beyond our little abode. It’s noise. It will help… for now. Find something to watch and breathe. Just drink your cocoa and breathe. It’s okay.

One day at a time. Just get through today. Okay?

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