Page 39 of If It Can't Be Us

I feel a lump in my throat, and my eyes blur as I struggle to maintain my own composure.Fuck.This is heavy, and I wish there was something I could do or say to take away all of this pain from her.

“They had to do an emergency C-section.” She swallows, her voice wavering. “For so long I wondered why… why was I the only one who survived? What did I do to deserve to live? What didBendo to deserve to die? He was the best person I ever knew…” She pauses, her fingers tightening around the edges of the blanket. “In the stillness of the car, moments after the accident, I knew he was dead. Iknewhe was dead. I knew that I was the only one still alive. That was the worst moment of my life. Ben and the other driver were killed on impact, and Evie, shortly after. I was so scared, Leo.” Her voice quivers again. “I’ve played that night over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? If only I hadn’t gone back upstairs to pee, if only we’d left five minutes earlier, if only we’d taken an Uber. So many 'ifs'.”

My own emotions get the best of me. I can’t rid the lump from my throat, and I wipe a tear from my face as I stare in admiration at her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Vivian,” I say, my voice cracking.

She lets out a sound that’s something between a laugh and a cry. Sullenly, she looks forward and says, “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve ever called me Vivian?” The corner of her mouth lifts, revealing a small smile.

“Is it?” I ask, “Do you want me to say something or just be a listener right now?”

She laughs at that. “You and Sarah are so alike,” she says. “I just want you to be you… be my friend. Don’t be my therapist, but know that what you say matters to me. I know that whatever you say comes from the education and experience that you’ve had.”

I nod in understanding and wait for her to continue.

“This is why I’m fucked up.” She nods her head as if in agreement with herself. “This is why I’m stagnant… why I can’t move forward.” She looks up at me briefly. “It’s why I haven’t been intimate with anyone,” she admits, swiftly moving back into her trance. “Every time I get close to anything happening… you know… downstairs…” She shakes her head. “Panic consumes me, I just… freak out, and then the guilt… GOD, the guilt is so heavy, it just… weighs on me. But it’s not having sex that makes me feel guilty. No. It’s the fact that Ben doesn’t get to live, and I do. The fact that I get to move forward, and he doesn’t.”

She pauses, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. “The worst guilt comes when I feel angry that he left me. God, I’m so fuckingmadthat I have to go through life without him. What kind of person is angry at someone for dying?”

She looks at me, “And it’s crazy because at the same time, I feel like I won the lottery to have loved such a wonderful person. But then it feels like God has a magnifying glass and is torturing me—like a bully, slowly burning ants alive.”

I gently squeeze her hand, trying to offer some comfort. The mix of grief, guilt, and rage is palpable, and my heart aches for her.

“Why does my life get to go on as if nothing has happened and his doesn’t? Why do I get another chance to fall in love when Ben can’t?” She shudders, sobbing now. “I can’t shake the feeling that if I have sex withsomeone else, it’ll be like I’m officially letting him go.” Tears stream down her face. I wrap my arm around her and give her a squeeze.

“I don’t want to let him go. I want to move forward, but I don’t want to forget him. How do I share something like that with someone who isn’t Ben? Something that connects you so deeply to someone… how do I do that?”

She dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “I’ve only been with Ben and one other person, which was a drunken mistake,” she says, gripping her head with her hands and slowly sliding them down her face as she groans. “It’s not even about being horny or the orgasm, you know? My vibrator can give me an orgasm. It’s about the connection. Aboutconnectingwith someone like that. I don’t want or need mindless sex; I want what I had with Ben. I miss that connection so much. I miss him. Ifuckingmiss him. I can’t…” She doesn’t finish. She drops her head back on the sofa, unable to continue, looking up for inspiration.

I sit quietly and squeeze her hand, letting her know I’m here for her. So many things are running through my mind, puzzle pieces coming together, everything about her falling into place.God, she’s only been with two people!The way she values sex as such an intimate bond, almost sacred… it’s admirable. And I guess it would be if you’ve only ever shared that with someone you loved. Christ, what does she think about me? I’ve only attached emotions to sex with one person, and that completely backfired. Since then, I’ve vowed to never attach sex to feelings, to only allow it to be something fun, a playful means to an end. I almost envy her, but then I remind myself that this ispreciselywhy I don’t ever want to fucking fall in love. Your life can’t be blown to pieces if you don’t have someone to lose. You can’t disappoint anyone. No one can leave you, cheat on you, or die. It’s my coping mechanism for sure, and as a therapist, I’ve stared myself down in that mirror plenty of times, but I don’twantto fix it, and I don’twantto change. Love is not in the cards for me.

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments while I gather my thoughts.

“You know you can have both, Vivian.” I let go of her hand as she looks into my eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Moving forward doesn’t mean you have to forget Ben. You can hold on to his memory while allowing yourself to embrace new relationships. You deserve to have both, and it’s completely possible. It’s also completely normal to feel what you are feeling. There is no timeline with death, Viv. Some people move on by sleeping with anything that moves, while others take years to get to the point of trusting another with intimacy. There is nothing wrong with you, and you are not fucked up. You are perfectly imperfect in this fucked-up journey of healing.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“I promise! There’s nothing abnormal about this, and I’m truly sorry if I’ve been the cause of any of your pain. I never would have joked about it if I’d known.” I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close as she rests her head on my chest. Her arms wrap tightly around me, and I feel her fingers grip my jacket. She nods her head as if she believes me and sobs quietly.

We sit there holding each other for what feels like an eternity.

She eventually loosens her grip and looks up at me. “Thank you, Leo,” she whispers, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Hey,” I say, wiping a tear from her cheek, “That’s what friends do.” I gently place a kiss on her forehead and give her another squeeze. As I release her, she sighs heavily, removes the clip from her hair, and lies on her side, placing her head in my lap and curling her feet up into a fetal position. I stroke her hair gently, feeling the weight of her trust in this moment. The night air is cool, but the warmth between us is palpable, a silent promise that she’s not alone in this.

“Will you tell me something?”

“What do you want to know?” I ask, my voice deep and quiet as I mindlessly toy with my fingers in her hair.

“Anything… something real… something that makes me feel less broken. You know, I envy you.”

“You envy me?” I say, surprised. She turns onto her back so that she can look at me, her knees bent and feet planted on thesofa.

“Yeah… you just have your shit together. You go through life as if it'seasy.You’re always so calm and collected… and confident. Tell me something, anything, big or small, that makes you human.” She looks at me with so much depth, searching my eyes. The raw human emotion in her eyes, from having bared her soul to me moments ago, compels me to give her something in return.

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