Trying to buy some time, I disentangled myself and walked over to my bag. I was aimlessly digging around when I saw the ugly orange bottle I’d spent months trying to hide. Tears came to my eyes as I looked at the bottle, and all at once I imagined all the pills I’d ever taken and all the pills I’d be taking every day, twice a day, for the rest of my life. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. How appropriate that I would tell him and immediately have a meltdown.
Gabe came up behind me and gently took the bottle from my shaking hand, slowing turning it while he examined the label. He finally looked up at me, but I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. My mouth had gone completely dry as my hands continued to shake. I tried to speak but nothing came out. Our staring contest continued and with it my anxiety increased, until it was suffocating me and I had no choice but to leave. Without another thought, I quickly ducked around him and headed for the door, even though my bag was still on the floor behind me. I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t hear him move, I didn’t register anything until his hand came crashing down on the door I was trying to open. I jumped in surprise and even though he wouldn’t let me leave, I stayed facing the door.
“Move.” I attempted to open the door with a huff.
“No.” Gabe’s voice was gentle yet firm.
“Please.” I tried to say it with conviction, but there was a lump in my throat that made it more like a sob.
“We can talk about this,” he whispered in my ear before resting his forehead on my shoulder. “Please, let’s just talk about this.”
“I don’t know how. I thought I could but…”
He lifted his head up and placed a soft kiss on my neck before speaking in a voice so soft and soothing that I could almost pretend everything was fine. “Let’s start easy. What’s the medicine for?” He was trying to be gentle, but I could hear the worry in his voice. When I didn’t say anything he spoke again. “You can tell me, you can trust me,” he pleaded. “What’s it for?”
I didn’t respond and he said no more as I contemplated my options, none of which looked good. There’d always been an ohh moment when I told someone about my depression. At first they thought maybe they misheard. There was no possible way I could be depressed, not when I smiled like I did, not when I laughed like I did. They thought I couldn’t possibly be as good at pretending as I was. But then came the understanding, but not the kind of understanding where you feel accepted. Instead it was the kind of understanding that left them feeling uncomfortable and unsure of how well they knew me or how they should act. They didn’t know what to say, but in those moments that followed it wasn’t about any words. It was all about the eyes, because that was always how I knew what would come next. That was how I knew if I’d lost a friend. And even though he probably already knew what I was going to say, I wasn’t ready to lose Gabe and… whatever we had. But I had already thrown the verbal grenade at him; I couldn’t exactly take it back.
I never wanted to keep it from him, but I never felt ready to tell him the truth either. And if I was being honest, I’d never be ready. Because the truth didn’t always set you free; sometimes it merely traded one set of shackles for another.
“I think I have a right to know,” he said at last. And he did have a right to know—that’s why I started this whole conversation, so he could choose. So he could walk away and save himself from a relationship with someone like me.
I leaned my head against the door and drew in some deep breaths to keep my tears from spilling over. I shook my head back and forth, trying to prepare myself for what would come next. Part of me believed he was different and I could trust him, but part of me also knew people reacted in unpredictable ways, and more often than not it was negative.
“Do you really want to leave right now?” Gabe whispered, bringing me out of my trance.
“Depression,” I whispered, raising my head slightly. He wasn’t touching me anymore, but I could still feel him stiffen behind me. “It’s for depression… and sometimes anxiety. And no, I don’t really want to leave.” I finally turned around so we were face to face, just inches apart so I could see every worry line on his face. I saw no understanding, just confusion and fear and maybe a little doubt. I shifted my gaze to the ground before continuing. “What I really want is for it to be okay that I am the way I am. I want people to stop judging me when they can’t possibly understand how this feels. But I’m not going to get what I want, so I’m left with the alternative, which is leaving and being left alone.” When I looked back up I saw he didn’t know what to do or say. We stared at each for a few seconds before his face softened and he brushed my cheek with his thumb.
“Remember at the karaoke bar when I said I was trying to do you a favor?” He nodded. “This is what I was talking about.” He opened his mouth to speak but I quickly held up both hands, cutting him off. “No, no. Please just think about it. Think about everything I’ve said and maybe read up on what it’s like.” I paused as I gripped his wrist, keeping his hand on my cheek. “I also need you to understand that there isn’t some hidden trauma from my past, there’s no reason for me to be like this. Nothing caused this. If you can’t… if you can’t handle it, I’ll understand.” I let go of him and wiped at the few tears that had fallen. “It’s hard and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I need to know now, and you need to be sure. So, take some time and think about it.” I slowly leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. When I pulled back he seemed reluctant but understanding. He dropped his hand from the door and stepped back, allowing me to cross the room and pick up my bag. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked back toward the door, but I couldn’t meet his gaze until the very last second. With a soft smile, he pulled the door open and walked me to my car.
“Goodnight, Alara.”
“Goodnight,” I whispered, hoping it wasn’t also goodbye.
Our dinner sat untouched on the table as I sunk to the floor with my head between my hands. Truthfully, there was a lot I didn’t know, but one thing I did know was that I still wanted her. And if she needed me to take time to convince her of something I already knew, I’d do it. The only thing I didn’t know was how much time. I looked at the clock. 9:08 p.m. I’d been sitting on the floor for half an hour when I picked up the phone and dialed Naomi.
“Hi, Gabe. What’s up?” Her chipper voice rang through.
“Is Alara home yet?” I knew I sounded dejected, but I couldn’t muster up any other emotion.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I paused, unsure of what to say. “I just… I wanted to make sure she got home okay.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Well, she was…” I trailed off; I didn’t really know what she was. At least now I knew why she was so hesitant all the time. I cleared my throat. “She told me about her… uhm… she told me that she’s depressed.”
Naomi let out a long breath, sounding exasperated and tired when she responded almost unconsciously, “It’s not something she is, it’s something she has.”
“Right… sorry,” I said quickly. I really didn’t want to alienate one of my few allies.
“No, I’m sorry. I just think it’s important to remember that how we say it matters.” She paused. “So she really told you?”
“Yeah, she did.”
Naomi was alarmingly quiet, which was not something I had ever encountered before, and even though we had only known each other a couple of months it still seemed highly out of character. “So you haven’t talked to her at all?” I said.
“No. How long ago did she leave?”
“Not long. Maybe forty minutes.” Naomi was quiet for so long, I’d worried that she’d hung up. “Are you worried about her?” I asked.
“Always,” she whispered. “She’s my best friend and even though she’s doing a lot better…” Naomi paused, cursing a little in the background before coming back on, “I don’t know if I should be telling you this stuff. It’s her business and I—”
“I understand that, I really do. I didn’t mean to worry you; she wasn’t really upset when she left. I just… I don’t know if I did the right thing. By letting her leave, I mean. I don’t know how much time to give her. I let her leave because it seemed like she really needed that, but right now I’m regretting it and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I don’t want her to think that this changes anything, it doesn’t—not even a little bit. I really care about her. But she thinks I need time to think about it.”
“I know,” she said. “Gabe, I know this is hard and confusing. I don’t want to scare you off and I believe you care about her, but she’s right. You need to really think about this before you go after her. You need to think about if this is something you can handle—”
“I don’t have to think. I know it doesn’t change anything. Naomi, you’re like a sister to her so I know where this is coming from, and I’m grateful that she has you. But I’m hoping that she’ll have me too. And that’s not something I need to think about or a choice I need to make. Am I scared? Yes. Do I understand it all? Not really. Will I always know what to do? No. But I’ll always do what I think is best for her and if it turns out I’m wrong, then I’ll do whatever I have to in order to make it right.”
“I believe you.” I could practically hear her grin over the phone. “She might take some more convincing than that, but even when she has her doubts she can still be pretty reasonable. Also, keep in mind that you have Derek and me. We’re Team Gabe all the way—we were even thinking of making T-shirts with your face on them.”
I smiled. “Why don’t I try talking to her first?”
“Fine, ruin all my fun.” She paused and her tone turned somber. “But seriously, you guys will figure it out. People in love always do.”
…
“So are you seeing anyone?” I asked.
“Nothing serious. I’ve been on a couple of dates but I’ve been trying to focus on school. Annie and I have been researching and applying to colleges. It’s a little intimidating. What about you? Has there been anyone serious since Miranda?” Sam took a drink of water before eyeing me suspiciously with a knowing smirk.
“Uh, yeah. I’m actually seeing someone right now, I think.”
She laughed. “You think?”
I hesitated, trying to think of a way to explain it without betraying Alara’s confidence. Sam’s smile slipped and she opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she said anything.
“I need advice.”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. But I have a quick question. Actually two quick questions.”
“Okay?”
“Is this someone Alara?” I nodded and was rewarded with a huge grin. “And was she the reason you finally initiated a phone call and asked me to get lunch?” When I nodded again, Sam still smiled, but it was of a sadder nature.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s a shit reason—”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t care what the reason, I’m just glad you called. I knew I was going to like her.” She beamed as she dug into her salad.
“It’s hard not to. She’s smart and so damn sweet and really funny once she’s comfortable around you.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I cut off a large slice of steak before shoving it in my mouth, hoping to buy some time. This didn’t seem like the type of thing to just casually tell other people. But Sam wasn’t other people, was she? I mean surely there’s some kind of family clause for telling other people’s secrets. But how would I feel if Alara told her sister a secret of mine? I’d like to think if she was doing it for a good reason I wouldn’t mind, but maybe she’d feel differently. And what exactly is a “good reason” when it’s a subjective term? But how could I get advice without telling Sam everything? I couldn’t, so maybe—
“Gabe, I don’t need to know everything, but I can’t help if I don’t even know the problem.”
“You have to act like I never told you.”
Sam frowned but nodded. “Okay, I promise when I see her again I’ll act clueless.”
“She has depression and anxiety,” I said before I could change my mind.
“That has to be tough,” she said as she nodded thoughtfully.
“She’s giving me time to think about—she thinks it’s going to change things.” I paused and pushed the food around on my plate.
“Does it?”
I shook my head and took a few more few bites of my lunch. “No… at least not in the way she thinks.” Sam tilted her head in confusion, so I continued. “She thinks she won’t be enough and that I can’t understand. And honestly, I don’t. When she first said depression I thought maybe something happened to her, but then she swore nothing ever has. And I know it’s horrible and unfair, but I thought of—”
“Mom,” she finished.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t understand how Mom could be so happy when everything was going wrong, while Alara could be unhappy when everything is seemingly perfect?”
“Yeah,” I said but kept my other thoughts to myself. Sam never knew what our mom had asked of me, and I planned never to tell her. She had no way of knowing that the reason I connected the words depression and mom was far more complicated than she knew. I understood Mom’s connection to depression because she had cancer, but as much as I wanted to I couldn’t understand what made Alara that way.
She dug around her salad for an olive before continuing. “The key word there was ‘seemingly.’ You’re looking at it like Alara has a choice in all this. She doesn’t, just like Mom didn’t have a choice in getting cancer.”
“How’s everything tasting over here?” our server asked as she walked back over, raising her eyebrows at our forgotten lunch. After reassuring her that everything was fine, she left and we each stared at our own food, lost in thought.
“I need to tell you something. I’ve been looking for the right time to give this to you, but it just never seemed to come…”
“Give me what?” I asked as she bent down and dug through her purse. She pulled out an envelope and set it on the table in front of me. My heart stopped as my gaze drifted over my name written in familiar black script. “What’s that?” I pointed an accusing finger at it.
“Mom left us each a letter. Her lawyer brought them over a couple of days after…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “He was told to give them to us one year after her death. I don’t know what it says, but if it’s anything like mine… you need to read it.”
I practically clawed at the table as I picked it up and ripped it open. My hands were shaking as I held it; I ended up having to set it on the table in order to read it.
Gabriel,
Wow. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. How am I supposed to fit a lifetime of advice and love in a simple letter? How am I supposed to leave knowing I’ll never meet your wife or hold your children? It seems impossible as I sit here and write this. Even with all the machines beeping around me and all the needles constantly being stuck in me, I still have this thought that this isn’t really happening. That ten years from now I’ll be sitting with a grandchild in my lap while you and your wife are out celebrating your anniversary, thinking about how I worried for nothing.
I still keep thinking I’ll be there to cheer for Sam on her graduation day and fluff her veil as she’s getting ready to walk down the aisle.
But deep down, I know I won’t. And it kills me.
Until you have a child of your own, you will never understand how much a parent loves a child. But I hope when you hold your child for the first time, you realize that what you feel for him or her is only a fraction of what I felt for you. You’ll love him or her right away, of course, but it’s a love that will grow beyond your wildest dreams.
You and Samantha are the best things that have ever happened to me. I know it’s not the most original thing to say, but it’s true. I only have one regret, and that is not having enough time with you two. There are many things that I wish were different, but I don’t regret anything else. I only believe in regrets about the future, and wishes about the past. And I know that sounds odd because typically it’s the reverse, but consider this…
I wish you had a better father. I wish I could have found you a father to love you like you deserved. I wish I could go back and tell myself that blood isn’t always thicker than water; I fear that in trying to give you a “normal” life, I just made things worse. And I will forever wish the situation were different. But I don’t regret it. I can’t. Because making those choices brought me Samantha, and I will never regret her. And if at any point before I had you I regretted something, then I might not have been given you, and I will never regret you either.
Ultimately it’s irrelevant, because regrets and wishes aren’t tangible things. But I hope you realize that if you get something amazing out of this life, like I got you and Sam, then you should have no regrets about your past. Because any and every bad thing led you to her.
You were forced to be the man of this family well before your time. But I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. I know this will change you and while it will be hard at first, ultimately I hope it’s for the better. I hope one day you can see how even this is meant to lead you to more. There is so much more for you in this life than what you’ve settled for. Don’t aim for simply being content, and don’t spend your life doing what makes others happy. You will never be as much as you can be if you let other people decide how much that is. You have to live for you and find what makes you over-the-moon happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. So…
I hope that each night you go to bed with a smile on your face.
I hope that laughter is the first thing you hear upon waking.
I hope your reality far surpasses your dreams.
I hope you give your heart away and never get it back.
I never got mine back. It was yours from the moment I found out about you. Sorry, I did have to break half off for your sister. But between the two of you you’ll keep it safe, won’t you? Until I see you again…
Love, Mom
I probably should have cared that silent tears were streaming down my face in the middle of a restaurant. But I didn’t. This letter was the greatest gift I’d ever gotten. To think you’ve lost someone, to think you’ll never hear their voice, see their smile, or feel their words again… and then to get a piece of it back? It was the best, and worst if I was being honest, feeling in the world.
I handed it to Sam, who seemed surprised by the gesture before grabbing and quickly scanning the page. Tears filled her eyes as well, but by the end she was smiling.
“She said her.”
“What?”
“Mom said, any and every bad thing led you to her.” She smiled knowingly as she handed it back to me, and I realized she was right.
“She talks about my future like it was never meant to be with Miranda or working for dad…” I trailed off, hoping Sam knew something about this. She looked sheepish as she shrugged and took a drink of water. “Why didn’t she say anything to me?”
“Because you were happy. She, and I, just thought you could be happier. But it never felt right to say anything.”
“You guys never liked Miranda, did you?”
“We were… indifferent toward her.”
I nodded my head. “Why was that? I noticed sometimes but I never asked—”
“You never asked because you never cared.” She paused and ate some of her salad before continuing. “I’m not saying you didn’t care about her, but you were never in love with her. Mom and I talked about it a couple of times, and she told me she was going to support you until you figured it out… or asked for her ring.” My eyes got wide and Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry, she said she would say something if it got to that point. Of course, Mom being Mom, she wouldn’t stand in your way if you still wanted to, but she would tell you all the things I’m telling you now.
“My point is, I know Dad thinks this is all just grief, but I never believed that. This is you finally figuring out what you want. It was exactly what Mom would have done, and I see so much of Mom in you now that sometimes it hurts. And I think Alara has given you that back. We all need certain people in our life. Some make sense, some don’t, and I don’t know where she falls, but I can just tell you need her.” She stopped suddenly like something just occurred to her. “So maybe you don’t need to understand her; maybe you just need to want to.”