Page 78 of The Best Book Boyfriend
“OK. Let’s just find a safe way to be in the sad. Want me to stay for a bit?”
“Don’t you have plans?”
“I cleared the rest of the day.” Well, now I feel guilty. I shouldn’t get in the way of her life by infecting her with my misery.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be sad all the time. Just for a bit.”
“I hear ya pal,” she says, patting my arm. “How about we make a deal, no more apologising for our feelings, OK?” We sit quietly while I eat. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was, or how little I’ve had over the past few days. “Have you been feeling this way a lot lately?”
“Not for a while. Used to be like this all the time and then the waves got further apart, and I’ll think I’m doing OK, but then another one will take me out.”
“I get a bit like that, too. Sometimes the sad eclipses the good stuff. It pulls the curtains around you and makes you feel like that’s the only feeling you’ll ever have. But I know I’m not sad all the time, and I don’t think you’re sad all the time. I’ve seen you laughing and smiling and you’re a bloody good actor, if that was all pretend.”
She gets it. Sometimes I only want to live in the grief. Some days it breaks my heart that Heather has never seen this place, her things aren’t scattered all over the place. I’ve had to make a new home without her. Other days I’m so glad because I’d find it so hard to see her ghost everywhere, but then I feel guilty about feeling glad she’s not here even if the thought only lasts a millisecond.
Being busy is good because it forces me to stay active, and distracts me from my feelings. But those feelings don’t disappear, they pile up beneath the surface until they burst out like this. It’s like a tidal wave, I can see it coming but I’m powerless to stop it. I can quickly make calls, Katy is covering everything at the shop, but then I just have to hide until I’m on an even keel again. I never know when the last wave will subside.
“I think the sad might always be there. Some days it’s smaller. Today it’s the big feeling. That’s OK, Luke.” I can’t speak, so I just nod. “Can I play some music for you?”
“No, thanks.”
“Put a movie on? Do you have a favourite show?”
“I just want to sleep.” I’ve done nothing but sleep and mope for days. How can I still be this exhausted?
“OK.” She takes the bowl of nuts from my tray and sets it on the bedside table before heading downstairs with the rest of the things. I roll onto my side and curl up into a ball. From here, I see the trees in the garden swaying in the breeze. I wish I was a leaf so I could float away on the wind with my wife.
Kara reappears at my side, strokes my hair a little and tucks my covers tight around my body. Even though I normally hate that, there’s something nice about being cocooned right now. It’s the next best thing to a hug and I’ve really missed her touch.
“Is there something you like to have with you? For comfort?”
I look up to see her face, I think it’s the first time I’ve really looked at her today. Her lips wear a gentle smile, but she looks cautious. “You mean the scarf?”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“No, it’s OK. I don’t sleep with it every night or anything. Just sometimes I need it. It still smells of her perfume. It’s the last trace of her, I’m terrified one day it will all be gone.”
“I understand. I’ll head off in a minute, do you have everything you need?”
“Can you stay for a bit? Just until I fall asleep.”
“Of course.” She turns on the bedside light and angles it low and away from my face before taking her seat in the armchair. I watch her gaze out of the window before closing the windows and the curtains. The fading light puts her in silhouette and I feel my eyes getting heavy.
“Kara?”
“What do you need?”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got you. Go to sleep.”
I don’t know what time it is when I wake up. I’m still not sure where my phone is. Kara is folded up like a pretzel in the armchair, her head balanced on her wrist, bent at an angle that makes me feel a bit sick to look at. In her other hand her e-reader is dangling loose, ready to drop to the floor at any second. A little drool pools at the corner of her mouth, I guess she’s been out for a while. I get out of bed and crouch down in front of her, taking her book and setting it on the nightstand. When I carefully uncross her legs she jolts awake, disorientated as she looks around to remember where she is.
“That can’t be comfortable, come and lie down.” She doesn’t object when I take her arm and pull her to her feet, sliding the other around her shoulders to prop her up. She shakes her cardigan loose, and I guide her to the other side of the bed. She slips in underneath the covers and lets out a lazy moan.
“Mmm, that’s better.”
I climb back in from my side and turn out the light before rolling to face her. It feels so nice to have her here again. When I think about her birthday, I obviously think about the sex, but I also think about how good it was to wrap my arms around her and hold her while we slept. The smell of her shampoo takes me back to that night, and I can’t take my eyes off of her when she stretches out and gets comfy. When she rolls onto her side to face me I feel caught in my infatuation, but she reaches one hand up and smoothes away a tear I didn’t realise was there.
