A Month Later

I finish cleaning the house for what feels like the seventieth time in two weeks. Mom and I decided to put the house on the market after acknowledging the memories associated with it; both good and bad weren’t helping either of us heal.

So, here I am fussing while I wait for the real estate agent to arrive, and for me to leave before the interested buyers come and check it out. If all goes to plan, Mom will be home in time to pack the everything up with me and move in next door with Eddie.

As soon as Mom was allowed visitors, Eddie was there. If I ever doubted what she meant to him, that all went out the window when I finally saw them together. It makes me sad to know they missed out on those few years, but his dedication to being beside her irrelevant to how many times she turned him away, is the only reason I believe in true love.

Mom worries that they’re moving too fast, but I’m constantly reminding her there’s no such thing. When you know, you know, and when it works you hold on to it with both hands.

Eddie has been an unexpected but very appreciated friend. We talk often, and he’s always there to listen to me, he’s pretty much the father I never had.

It’s been an extremely eventful month for me. While my main focus was to ensure mom settled in and her being at rehab was successful, I went back to Dr. Wood from the hospital and sought out my own strategies for self-care. Evie has been the reality check I need when I try to push myself too hard. She reminds me Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the only person I need to please right now, is me. We made an agreement early on that we weren’t going to speak about Elliot, and she respected my request when I said I wasn’t ready to go out with her and Lior, and be reminded of him. I’ve been determined to put myself first, and apart from the massive hole in my chest every time his face flitters through my mind, I’m right where I want to be.

Tonight after the house inspection, I’m meeting Evie at her work to attend my very first suicide survivor meeting. And while the name suggests that attendees have contemplated suicide and not gone through with it, it’s actually designed to be a support group for people whose lives have been changed by the suicide of a loved one. It’s only taken me a whole month to find the courage to speak about Renee outside of my therapist’s four walls, but Evie swears finding people who know exactly how you feel is the missing key.

“How about you head off early, and I’ll wait for this guy to come,” Eddie says, scaring me out of my thoughts.

“Jesus Eddie, anyone taught you how to knock.”

He chuckles. “When was the last time I knocked?”

“True.” I look around the house inspecting it one more time before taking him up on his offer. I don’t want to be late to this support group, and sometimes getting in and sitting there before everyone else makes me feel more secure. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I head out?” I ask.

“It’s fine, Evie hasn’t stopped talking about expecting you there, I am one hundred percent terrified of disappointing that girl.” I laugh loud into the room because there is no truer statement. Everybody I know hates disappointing her. It works really well. When you’re her.

“Can I borrow your car?” I ask.

“Of course, I can’t even remember the last time I drove it.” I know that’s a dig at how I’ve pretty much claimed it, but I pay for gas and get it washed weekly. If anything, he should be thanking me for the first class treatment I give it.

“Okay, I’ll head off.” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Have fun, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do there,” he says while scratching his head in confusion.

“Thanks, I’ll leave the car in the driveway when I’m done.”

“Bye.”

* * *

The center looks like a big empty basketball court, with rooms off on either side. I wait for Evie at the receptionist desk like she asked, and flick through my phone while I awkwardly stand on my own.

“You made it,” I hear her squeal with excitement behind me.

Turning I come face to face with a big ball of energy. “I told you I’d be here, even if I’m packing shit,” I admit.

“You’ll love it, I promise. Let me take you to the room where everyone is gathered.”

After what seems like forever, we come up to a small door in the back corner of the building. Once I’m inside, I see a room full of people. Young, old, men and women, there’s no discrimination when it comes to suicide. Hovered around a table with coffee, tea, and cookies, everybody is comfortable and chatting. Evie nudges me in the shoulder, “come on, let me introduce you to Callie.”

“Callie, I’d like you to meet my friend Courtney,” Evie says introducing us.

“Hi Courtney, it’s great to meet you. Thank you for joining.”

“I don’t think I had a choice,” I say, gesturing to Evie.

“Yep, she’s got a knack for convincing everyone to come in and share their stories. This place wouldn’t be the same without her.” I turn and watch my best friend’s face go tomato red. She hates compliments, but most of the time she deserves them and then some.

“Are you ready to share your story tonight?” she asks. I dart between her and the rest of the group, and my palms begin to get clammy. “Please don’t feel like you have to. A short introduction will suffice. Just do whatever feels right,” she offers.

Eventually, we all move to the circle of empty chairs and each find a seat. Every person introduces themselves with their name and which family member took their own life. There are four newbies and I’m the last one to introduce myself. My stomach churns and nervousness overtakes me. I try my hardest to share my story but start to panic before I’ve even managed to announce my name. When suddenly the door opens and there standing before me in low hung jeans and a snug olive green t-shirt is Elliot.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Nobody is bothered by his interruption, in fact, everybody looks at him like this is a common occurrence.

Callie’s next words confirm my suspicions. “No worries, Elliot, one of these days you might get here on time, today just isn’t that day.” The group chuckles and so does he. “But you should offer your apologies to Miss Courtney here, this is her first group meeting, and she was about to introduce herself.”

He turns to face me and an expression of shock comes and goes before being replaced with one of longing. I’ve missed you too.

“Hello, Miss Courtney,” he says. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“That’s okay.” He takes a seat directly opposite, his eyes burning holes through me.

“Would you like to tell us your story?” Callie asks.  

I stare straight at him and answer her question. “Yes. Yes, I would.” I let my voice reach him, loud and clear, and stare into his eyes, telling him my final truth.

I tell him the story of the girl I used to be. I tell him how I grew up without a father, and my mother raised my sister and I to be assertive, intelligent women. She encouraged us to chase our dreams and to not let anybody tell us we couldn’t do something.

I tell him how close Renee and I were, and how even though as we got older, we were separated physically, our hearts and mind were always in sync with one another. I share how she fell in love, and how she told me when you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, the happiness you feel is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever felt before. She was more than in love, she was in life. She was so far down the rabbit hole you couldn’t get her out no matter how hard you tried.

But why would you try?

She was floating on air, he treated her like a queen, and it was like being invited to witness the purest and most selfless form of human interaction ever created.  

I tell him he died. Drunk driver hit him on his bicycle one Saturday afternoon; dead on impact. I explain how she spiraled out of control and I became certain love wasn’t for me. Not if it could hurt that bad.

I remind him of our conversation about design school and explain, this was my reason for coming home. I dropped everything to save my sister, and it didn’t work.

The tears fall, uncontrollably, but I’m not done yet.

The day I buried my sister, was the day life as I knew it ended. I became the parent, and my mother was the child. It was a silent battle for years, of her wanting to die and me insisting she had to stay. It was horrible, lifeless, empty. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t a good enough sister for Renee to want to live, and I wasn’t a good enough daughter for my mom to want to stay.

I hated myself. And from that moment forward I lived a lie. Happy faces by day, endless tears by night.

One day I stumbled across the best thing to ever happen to me. I fell in love, and finally, everything started to make sense. Life. Death. Love. Pain. The puzzle pieces of life slowly began to fit together. And when I finally let him break down my walls and give him my heart I knew. I knew that Renee’s death would no longer be in vain because she taught me the greatest lesson of all time. She taught me you can’t love without life and you can’t live without love.

I stand up, breaking the trance between us, Looking around the room, there’s not a dry eye in sight. Steering my focus back to Elliot, he’s walking toward me with determination. The reality of how much I just divulged in front of a bunch of strangers hits me hard. I spin around and run. Out of the room, out of the building and into the fresh, crisp air. I bend over, my hands on my knees, unable to catch my breath. I hear his voice in the distance.

“Court. Wait up.”

He catches up to me, quicker than I anticipated. Raising upright, I stare at him in silence. I’ve used up all my words.

“Do you feel that way?” he asks me.

“Which way?”

“That you can’t live without love and love without life?” When he repeats my own words back at me, my blood races with hope that he’s hearing what my heart is saying.

“I’m trying so hard to live without you, Elliot,” I tell him. “I mean, I can. I can live without you, but—”

He steps forward, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “But you just don’t want to,” he says, stealing the exact words out of my mouth. I shake my head frantically, and the damn tears start again.

“I miss you so much,” I admit.

“I miss you too.” He kisses my forehead. “I don’t want to live without you either.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing, you know? Actually, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I didn’t know how much I loved you until you weren’t there everyday.”

“Thank you for sharing your story with me in there,” he says, changing the topic

“I should’ve told you all that from the very beginning.”

“It doesn’t make me any less grateful that you were finally able to open up,” he explains. “It gives me hope and promises me the future—”

“That’s all I want with you,” I say cutting him off. “A future.”

“I’ll give you all that and more.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”