Life After (13 page)

“I like how you take something serious and turn it around to lobsters.”

He lets out a laugh, “
What can I say? You know you love it.

“First I lobster…then I flounder…”
He starts singing out of tune.

“Seriously stop singing or I’m putting Luke back on.” Laughing at him I take his hand enjoying how it feels in mine during the ride home.

My lobster.

Everything’s going to be okay.

That night dinner takes an unusual turn when Jenny tries to serve us some sort of vegan dish. We’re doing the normal sit around the table and talk routine when I pop a chicken nugget in my mouth, and an utterly disgusting taste fills my mouth. Scrunching up my mouth trying not to spit it back onto my plate I grab my napkin and dispose of the so-called chicken nugget. Taking a large sip of water I try to get rid of the awful taste.

“Jenny, I think something is off with the chicken.” Moving the offensive chicken to the side of my plate I gag at the thought of eating more of it. “Did you check the expiration date before you cooked it?”

Jenny looks over at me with an evil eye, but before she can say anything we’re interrupted by Andrew and Avery choking on the same nuggets.

“I’m not eating this. I love you Jenny, but I can’t do it,” Andrew says.

Jenny looks at all of us frustrated throwing her hands in the air. “Have you all never had anything vegan before?” she asks innocently taking a bite of the imposter chicken.

Looking over at her incredulously, “Um no, I do the whole PETA thing: People Eating Tasty Animals. I’m top of the food chain here.”

Noticing the freshly steamed vegetables on the plate I decide those can’t be messed up and take a bite. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wincing I swallow the offending vegetables and take a very big sip of water. Jenny looks at us sadly and leaves the room. Andrew gives one last sad look at the inedible dinner picks up his keys and tells us he is running out for some food. Pushing my plate away I stare at the table cloth thinking about how awesome my mom’s cooking was, but I’m not supposed to have thoughts that bring me down, per my psychologist.  So I reroute my way of thinking and instead think I need to figure out how to cook like she used to. A sudden thought pops into my head if only I had a light bulb for over my head, it would be the perfect opportunity for one.

“Avery!"

He jumps hitting his knees on the table, almost knocking our water glasses over and I realize I yelled at him a bit loudly in my excitement.

“Oops!” I say chagrined. “I didn’t mean to yell like that but I’m just so brilliant!”

He raises an eyebrow while rubbing his knee.

“Remember how my psychologist has been telling
me to look at the brightside and not to always look at the downside of everything?”

He looks at me blankly, “Yes…but why exactly are you so excited about it?”

“Well I was sitting here sad that this food was horrible and I remembered how amazing my mom was and then the words from therapy started floating around in my head and I thought we could go to a cooking class together as our first official date! We’ve never really had an actual date or anything.” I tell him trying to sweeten the deal. I’m sitting there smiling all proud of myself when I look over at Avery who appears about as enthused as if he had a trip to the dentist.

Rubbing his hands over his face several times he sprawls out in the chair in a way guys are able to do without looking stupid. “So,” he says with his hands behind his head, “If I do this cooking class—” He looks green about it, “You will go with me to this weekly grief counseling meeting? I know we just talked about it but I think it’s really important for us to attend it.”

Now the tables are turned and I’m the one green  I’m picturing in my head having to tell everyone all of my secrets and I don’t want to share  with strangers, but with him by my side I think I can do it. I may or may not have a panic attack while I’m there but I’ll be willing to give it a try. I hold out my hand to him and we shake on it.

Looking at him sternly, “This will be a date. Dress appropriately.” Winking at him I start clearing off the table and slowly walk into the kitchen hoping Andrew brings us back something good to eat. Throwing the offending leftovers out I take the
trash out and start filling the dishwasher, it’s a task I have always hated but I finish it nevertheless. My stomach rumbles as I’m putting the detergent in, putting my hand over my stomach I close the drawer and walk over to the pantry. I grab my sugar covered donuts not really paying attention because they should be in their normal spot and my hand hit’s air turning my head I see lots of bran snacks and dried fruit. Oh crap, Jenny’s cleared out all the junk food. Crap. This is not a good thing. I’m still staring at the empty pantry when Andrew walks in carrying greasy bags of hamburgers and fries.

“Why are you staring at the pantry?” he asks, setting the food on the counter.

“She threw out all the junk food and replaced it with fake food.” I tell him mournfully.

He looks over at me with a serious look on his face, well as serious as one can with their cheeks stuffed with a cheeseburger and another already in his hands. “I’ll grab some junk food on the way home from work tomorrow and hide it in my office.” he says between bites. We fist bump and I grab a burger for Avery and I and head to the living room to watch a movie with him.

The group therapy meeting comes before my cooking day. I may or may not have been had by agreeing to do this. Walking into the church my breath hitches as I take in where the Grief Recovery Support group is held. I haven’t been in a church since before the accident so it is with great hesitation that I walk in. My faith is on shaky ground and churches have been way out of my comfort zone. I stop in my tracks causing Avery to almost bump into me, lifting my head to look at the angels in the stained glass windows. It’s a surreal feeling to be at peace here. Peace was something I didn’t expect to feel. Hand in hand Avery and I walk towards a small table set with pens, name cards and pamphlets. Filling out our name cards we put them on and find a seat in the circle of chairs where others are starting together.

“Welcome to Grief Recovery Support, my name is Adele and I will be your group leader.” An older lady with graying hair and a very bright pink shirt tells stands in the circle of chairs. “I see we have some new faces here,” she says pointing to Avery and me along with a few
people seated across from us. “Our mission here is to help guide you through this. So not only can you verbalize your feelings but also deal with the pain and guilt associated with it. It is necessary you commit to these meeting or they most likely won’t be successful and it will be a waste of yours and the group’s time,” she says frankly looking at us.

She has us go around the circle and introduce ourselves; first names only and why we have
come. When it’s my turn I stand, shaking with nerves, glancing around the room I see everyone waiting patiently for me to continue. I notice a little old lady that’s pulled out her knitting needles and the middle aged gentleman who looks as though he has hit the bottle one too many times. I glance behind me at Avery who has his hands clasped tightly. My anxiety has sky rocketed, my lungs tightening, I’m almost in full blown panic attack stage and I don’t want to get there. I practice the breathing technique I learned at my therapy session that seems to help so I do it a few more times clasping Avery’s hand before starting.

Taking a deep breath I begin talking. “My name is Hadley,” I take a long pause. “I’m here because I’m having a hard time dealing with the loss of my family.” My hands are clasped together tightly. Once I’ve sat down, a hand comes to rest on my knee. Jumping, I look over at Avery and put my hand on top of his. Holding my cold one in his warm one I feel comforted just by a single touch.

Once everyone has gone around the circle Adele starts clapping. She tells us that step one is telling others why you are here. That’s one of the hardest parts of the group, opening up to strangers. She grabs some folders from the table and hands them to each of us.

“We’re going to be working on step two next week. In these packets you will find handouts about dealing with grief and survivor’s guilt along with website addresses and my phone number if you ever need to talk. I’m available anytime, 24/7 anytime! I mean it.”

Pausing for a minute she ends the session with the group’s affirmation. “It is okay to love, be loved and not feel guilty. Our loved ones would not want that. Moving on does not mean we are forgetting.” She says a quick closing prayer and lets us know she will see us next week same day and time.

Leaving the meeting I feel good, really good. I feel like I can go through with this and become a better person. The best part is I didn’t let my anxiety take hold of me and win during the meeting, I was the victor. It’s the little things right? Unfortunately I failed to remember the saying a few nights later; two steps forward and one step backwards.

***

Several nights passed since we went to the grief meeting and I’m sitting in my
room pensively staring at my blank notebook and pen. It’s time I wrote that letter to my dad. I have dreaded writing this letter and put it off as long as I could. I mean let’s get real. I want my dad here with me I don’t want to write him a stupid letter, it’s not the same. Leaning back against my pillow, tapping my pencil against the notebook I finally put pencil to paper and the lead breaks. Sighing I throw it to the floor and dig out a pen from my purse. Pink is playing in the background as I contemplate the blank paper in front of me. Why is this so hard for me? I take a deep breath and start to write.

Dear Dad,

I miss you. I miss you so much. I’m writing this letter to officially tell you goodbye. If you’re wondering why I’m doing this it is a
‘homework exercise’ that my therapist suggested I do. I know the irony is great since you are the one who used to get on my case all the time about me doing my homework. To tell you the truth I would give anything to have you get angry at me again. I couldn’t stay at your funeral. I couldn’t watch them put you in the ground knowing you would be cold and never see light again. Daddy, I miss you so much. I’m so angry that you are gone. I keep expecting you to call me or to see and you’re gone. Why did you have to leave me?

I didn’t have the chance to even tell you how much I love you. Did you know how much I love you? I love you more than the moon and the stars. I keep dreaming of the accident over and over again. It is my penance for surviving. I’m sorry for being such a brat that night. I regret it more than you will ever know. Daddy, I met someone, his name is Avery. He is a wonderful guy. I think you would like him. He has helped me survive when all I wanted to do was drown. He pulled me to the surface. I suppose it’s time I started telling him about you so I can introduce the two of you. I know you’re watching me from Heaven. Most of all Daddy I hope you know how much I love you.

Love Always,

Hadley

I fold the letter and put it on my desk it feels so damn inadequate to write that letter, suddenly the dam breaks. I can’t hold it in any longer. It’s
like all of the pain and anger I’ve kept inside is coming to a head after writing that single letter. It’s as if my brain is finally accepting their deaths.  I put the heels of my hands to my eyes trying to stop the flow of tears but it is a useless cause. They pour out of me.

Grabbing the picture frame next to my bed I throw it against the wall watching it shatter into tiny pieces. Moving to where the glass lays scattered on the floor kneeling down not caring about the glass that pierces my skin, I pick up the picture and hold it to my chest as I sit there sobbing, the glass cutting into my knee’s but I feel nothing.

Looking towards my CDs on the floor I grab as many as I can near me and throw them across the room, anything in my path is thrown. My room is a mess, but I could care less. Emotionally exhausted I curl up on the floor and hug the one undamaged thing in the room, my picture of us. Hugging it close I let it all out and cry for what it’s worth, the pain pouring out of my chest. I’m so out of control it feels hard to breathe.

The door opens and a few minutes later I feel arms around me that lift me onto the bed, curling me against the covers.  I stare blankly at the wall. The bed dips low and I feel as someone lies next to me and wraps their arms around me.
I know its Avery, his cologne gives him away. He pulls me so my head is on his arm and I’m cradled to his chest. I sob even harder when his arms come around me. He does nothing but holds me and rubs my back letting me get it all out of my system.

Clearing his throat he tilts my head up making me look him in the eye, “What’s going on
Hads? I heard all the crashing from the living room and thought someone broke in. You really scared me.” He sounds shaken as he leans forward to kiss the top of my head.

Eye level with his grey t-shirt I lay there sniffing, he hands me a tissue from the Kleenex box.

“All this emotion hit me like a pyramid all coming down at once and I couldn’t handle it, it was almost like I had an out of body experience. I wrote that letter to my dad like the therapist suggested and I don’t know what came over me. I was angry at them for leaving me and then I was so utterly sad I started crying and then I was mad again. I know how can you be mad at someone that’s gone? It’s like all my emotions were an explosion.”

Picking at Avery’s shirt I continue, unable to bring my eyes to his. “I was thinking about the letter and the fact they were never coming back and that the therapist made me write the stupid letter in the first place. I was doing so well with everything and then this!”

Disgusted with myself I move away from him, I’m such a broken shell of a person he needs someone normal.  “Avery,” I start shakily. “I’m no good for you. You deserve someone unbroken someone who doesn’t freak out like this. Someone who doesn’t act this way, I’m not normal anymore.”

I’m
exhausted, I just want to go to sleep and pretend this didn’t happen and that I don’t have to explain the damage I did to my room to Jenny or have the long talk with my therapist. But it looks as though Avery isn’t done with me yet. Turning on my side with my back to his chest, a few tears escape my eyes and run down my cheek hitting the pillow beneath my head.

He clears his throat gruffly before he starts talking softly. “Define normal for me.”

When I refuse to answer him or acknowledge him he continues.

“I mean, Hadley we keep going over this. It’s like a merry go round with how you keep saying I don’t deserve you and that you’re broken. Didn’t we just do this a few weeks ago? Guess what? That doesn’t bother me. I don’t think you’re broken and
I’m so sick of hearing you say it.” Running his hands through my hair he lays his chin on top of my head and I can’t help but scoot into him. “You’re dealing with a tragedy no one should ever have to experience and I think you’re doing an extraordinary job of it so far. Everyone is entitled to have a breakdown once in awhile. It’s how you act afterwards that matters. You’re worthy Hadley and you will always be worthy. I’m the one who doesn’t feel worthy of you half the time. Hell, when the going got tough what did I do? I tried to kill myself. I don’t want you thinking about this again or thinking you are for some stupid reason unworthy. You’re not alone, everyone somewhere is dealing with something, you know?”

Laying
there I’m struck silent, digesting what he said. When he puts his hand through my hair and starts massaging my head, I have so many things I want to say but they all pale in comparison. It feels so good that before I know it the tension leaves my body and I feel my mind letting go of everything that happened tonight.

Turning to face him I do the only thing I can think of to convey how
I’m feeling towards him. Reaching out I pull him into a hug bringing his head down and pressing my lips to his. At first he seems stunned I’m kissing him after everything that has happened. I mean I’m kind of shocked I did it as well. He stays still and does nothing until I press my tongue to the seams of his lips.

Once he opens his mouth to let me in I somehow manage to lose control of the kiss and Avery take
s advantage of that. I feel his hands lifting my shirt and I don’t stop him, his hands are on my waist tracing my curves. Shivering, I love when he does that, it makes me feel so tiny. My hands find his shirt and creep under to feel the hardness of his chest and suddenly he pulls away.

“We have to stop, Hadley.” He
pushes up from the bed walking across the room.

“Don’t you want this?” I ask him shyly not able to look at him.

“Of course I do,” he says standing and pulling his shirt down and putting his hands through his hair. “It’s taking everything I have not to kiss you again. You have no idea how much I want you right now, but I want to do this right and tonight's not that night.”

I beckon him over
while putting my shirt back on and pat my bed, “Come on I’ll be good I promise I just need you to hold me tonight.”

I’m fully
enjoying the smell of him and the closeness that he provides with his chest to my back. As I’m falling asleep I have a sudden realization that I will always feel safe in Avery’s arms. He has always been the one to make me feel cherished, like I could take on the world. It’s then that I realize He’s helped me complete yet another goal on my Bucket List one of the most important of all, falling in love.