Page 6 of Finding Hope

Usually the closeness is amazing. I love having everyone within shouting distance. We never have to eat alone, train alone, be alone… Not unless we want to be.

Right now, I want to be.

I sent them away and promised to call if I needed anything.

I won’t call.

I have Jenny, the old bitch.

I have Annie.

And Idon’thave Steph anymore.

Tapping the mattress, I signal to my three-legged bear that I need a hug. Pouncing immediately, she jumps onto my bed, burrows into the hollow my body makes, and becomes my little spoon.

We stay like this until moss grows on us, until the world revolves seven times, until my nephews are old enough to grow beards.

Well. That’s how long itfeels.

In reality, we stay this way until Friday. I can ignore reality, I can tell everyone to fuck off and leave me alone until Friday, but then I’m thrust back into the truth, and not even my narcotics can numb the pain.

I’ve been an athlete for a long time. I barely drink, just a casual beer with my brothers and friends, but not during fight camp. I don’t take drugs. I don’t smoke. I eat all the right things, and I treat my body like a perfect machine with regular maintenance – plus pizza.

But today, the day we lay my sweet Stephanie to rest, the day I have to get up and shave and get dressed again, the day I’m forced to face my family again; today’s the day I want to take some pills and escape for good.

Today’s the day Idotake some pills. I numb myself to the world. I’ve had Steph for so long, I don’t even know who I am without her. I don’t actually know how to function without her.

We never officially lived together, but her underwear is still in my drawers, and her box of tampons is still in my bathroom. My sheets still smell like her, and my dog continues to peek around hallways looking for her.

I just want her back.

I want to scream at someone.

Anyone.

I want to hurt the man that hurt her, but since I can’t, since she’s no longer mine to keep, I choose to escape reality.

My brothers carried my stupid ass home after I stumbled around the funeral home. I got high, I got drunk, I knocked over a tall vase at the cemetery… then I fell on my face.

I’ve seen this show before; the cemetery, the hole in the ground, the timber box that swallows the person you love the most. I’ve been front and center while people read aloud all the best things they know about the person in the box.

Just like with my dad, I was too weak to step up and speak, and instead left that responsibility to someone else. To the women. Today, I simply sat down when I wanted to nap, and stood when I wanted to annoy my sister.

I didn’t say goodbye to Steph properly, I simply… tapped out.

My brothers took me home, put me to bed with disappointed scowls painted across their faces, then I took somemorepills and escaped into oblivion where I told Steph goodbye in my dreams.

In my dreams, she’s still with me. In my dreams, her hair is still smooth and shiny. Her eyes are still green and sparkly. Her body is still healthy and beautiful.

My dreams are where I want to be, because real life fucking sucks.

3

JACK

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Shaking off tonight’s blonde and ignoring her…voluptuoustits, I scan the glass shelves behind the bar and consider what next ingredient will help me find the numb.

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