Page 38 of Loving the Legend
Damn.
A tickle in my throat expands, walling off words. The impact of his statement, the strength of his gaze, it’s enough to pull me under. All I can muster is a nod in response. I lean my head back and stare at the Christmas tree lights reflected off the ceiling. I’dwager the blush spreading up my neck and face burns brighter than the tree.
“You got emotional when your teammates lifted you in the air after the game?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I hug my knees into my chest. “Er, you caught that?”
He nods. “You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It’s, uh, kinda dumb. I searched the bleachers for my parents. For a moment, I forgot they were gone.”
I ignore the ache that rests below the surface and concentrate on plotting the angles of the ceiling shapes reflected by the tree lights.
Sid remains silent, but his penetrating stare is loud.
I’m afraid that if I meet his gaze, I’ll see pity. It’s late and I’m tired…too tired to hold in whatever needs out. After an interminable silence, I muster the courage to turn my head and meet his gaze.
His brows pinch, and there’s an overcast where his eyes usually gleam.
I wave it off. “It’s all good, man.”
“You don’t have to do that. At least not with me.”
I shake my head and look away. Too much kindness.
“I can’t. If I don’t swallow it down…” I trail off, raising a seawall behind my eyes to prevent the flood of emotions from breaking through.
“How have you worked through your grief?”
I shrug. “After my parents died, I kinda fell apart. I’d go to school but check out. My teachers passed me out of sympathy or something. I’d head straight home and climb into bed until the next morning. I lost my appetite. On some level, I think I wanted to waste away so that I could join them. It went on that way for months. Adam found a grief counselor for me, and he kinda helped.”
He shifts to sit upright. “Does it still feel raw?”
“It’s weird. It’s always there hiding behind a memory. Now and then, I’m that kid in high school, and I can’t get out of bed for days.”
“That sounds like depression, Ty.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “It just is.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Can you describe what it feels like for you?”
“Depression?”
He nods.
I have to think about it before I can answer.
“It’s kinda like my brain is off of its track.”
He nods for me to continue.
“I can’t muster the strength to give a shit about anything or anyone. Something as simple as brushing my teeth feels insurmountable. It’s like I’m stuck in a daze with a single thought. And it’s not that I’m necessarily sad. It’s just that everything seems hollow. Like everyone is playing a game that I have no interest in participating in. It’s all numbing, except it isn’t, I guess. I mean, it’s more that I’m numb. It takes over—” I scrub my hands over my face and drag out a breath.
No matter how many words I use, they’re all woefully insufficient. How do you describe being stripped—locked off—from everything that feels good? I could use words like desolate, bleak, and grim, but would Sid understand? Maybe he would shiver for a second before his brain jumps in and reminds him of all the good in the world. But if his brain is like mine, it would stay offline, infected by a parasite that streams the same message every second of every day—Just. End. It.
“Everything?” he asks.
I give him a questioning look.
