Seeing Catherine and Bill last night was a combination of emotions. It was good to talk to them, but Josh was everywhere. We talked about him and the loss, but we focused mostly on our lives now. After Josh.
I internally shake my head and focus again on ticket sales statistics for this season. A week ago, I lost my shit and destroyed half of my living room. This week, I’m numb. Emotionless. I’m waiting to awaken from this nightmare but no amount of pinching will wake me up. My skin is bruised from the attempts. I refuse to accept my fate. I can’t believe this is real. This is my life. Eight months of despair. Of loneliness. Of resisting my reality.
He was only deployed for a couple of months before he died. I could live with the uncertainty of his safety like I had all the other times, but I can’t live with the certainty that he is never coming back.
A soft knock at my door brings my attention back to the present. Mr. Harris, my boss, looks in, asking about the ticket sales. I tilt my laptop to him, showing him our sales growth and thank the heavens for this welcomed distraction.
After finishing up my impromptu meeting with Mr. Harris, I take my lunch break for the first time in weeks. I need fresh air. Something else that will occupy my mind besides the constant beating on my heart. I inhale the cool air and stroll down the sidewalk. I love this city. I love the music influence and the energy that surrounds it.
I walk aimlessly, taking in the colors around me. Fall has begun and the air is drier. The leaves are orange and red, offering a sense of extinction that comes with this season. Perfect for my mood these days. I could get swallowed up in the leaves and be left to become one with the dirt. The downtown area is bustling with other professionals heading to lunch and Tennessee State students sprinkled throughout in coffee shops and sidewalks, headed to their destinations.
I walk into a deli and grab a soda and bag of chips. No need for a full meal. Finding a bench, I plant myself and pop open the can of Coke. One delicious, bubbly, chug later, I stare off and eat the barbecue chips and wash them down with more of my drink.
“Bri?” I widen my eyes and blink quickly, looking up. “Hey.”
“Oh, hi.” I see Cash towering over me. “What’s up?”
“Just heading to grab lunch. Mind if I sit?” I shake my head and watch as he sits next to me. People point and greet him. “I’m waiting for the rest of the guys to get here. I left practice a little earlier,” he explains.
“How’s that going? Working on a new album I heard.”
“Yeah. We have some appearances and local shows, also. Never ends,” he says with a smile. Despite the busy schedule, Cash loves what he does. I’m convinced Rebel Desire has the success they do because of him. The other guys love it, too, but Cash is the fighter.
“You should come to one of our shows.”
“Maybe,” I nod. I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t want to, and I don’t want the pity that will accompany that comment.
“Have you thought about…” he hesitates.
“What?”
“Never mind. Not my place.”
“No, now it is your place to finish that thought,” I reply.
“I don’t want to offend you, and I mean this with love. Have you thought about seeing someone? A professional that can help you grieve?” His eyes are squinted and his eyebrows are pulled in, almost afraid of my response, yet determined to help me.
“Cash, I love you. You know this. But—”
“Hey!” Ryder, Cole, and Jason walk up to us. I clamp my mouth, a tight smile adorning my face. Cash purses his lips in apology. I shake my head subtly, and he nods in understanding.
“What’s up, Bri?” Jason says.
“Not much. On my lunch break.” I shrug noncommittally. Cole stares at me intensely. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he stormed out of my house, and I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t see him for another while longer. I don’t need people coming in and forcing me to deal with Josh’s death the way they expect me to.
“Well, I gotta get back to work. You boys have fun.” I stand and walk away, discarding my trash in a nearby bin.
I try to focus on work the rest of the afternoon, but Cash’s suggestion is stuck on repeat. I was going to tell him I didn’t need professional help, but fuck… I might. The more I toss the idea around, the less crazy it sounds.
I rub the pressure on my chest with the heel of my hand. The memory of a conversation I had with Josh a long time ago rings in my mind. We had discussed the option of him seeing a therapist due to traumas of being deployed and the possibility of PTSD. Josh was strong, and although he didn’t have full-blown PTSD, some nights the nightmares would take over.
He never did see a therapist, since things eased once he moved back. It was supposed to be a permanent move, but nothing is ever permanent in the military, except death. I was naïve to think he’d never get called again. I know how the process works, and until he was off contract, anything was possible.
I pack up for the day, grateful that the time I took during my lunch helped me relax, and head home. Some days, the weight of the empty house hits me head-on when I open the door. Heaviness consumes me, and I feel as if the weight of the world were crushing me.
I drop my purse on the couch and make my way into the kitchen. I have a glass of wine calling my name, and who am I to disobey?
Deep red liquid poured, I fill the tub and sink into the warm water. I close my eyes, realizing how easily I could end this pain. I have never been one to allow despair and sadness to win, but I am a different person now. A few minutes under that water and I could be gone, all of this a distant nightmare. But I know that is no solution, and deep within I am stronger than this. Maybe a therapist is a good idea.
I tuck my legs under me and sit on the couch. Looking around the entire living room, not a single trace of my meltdown some days ago is evident. The bath soothed me and mindless television will entertain me until I’m tired enough to sleep.
My phone alerts me of a new message. I flip it over to see the name.
Cole: Hey… I’m sorry I was such an ass the other day. I was glad to see you out today.
Bri: Thanks… needed some fresh air. It helped.
Cole: How are you doing?
Bri: Good
Cole: Bri… you can be honest with me. I won’t judge… promise
Cole: Talk to me…
I stare at his encouragement. Cole may not be a therapist, but maybe actually talking to someone will help. I know I have Olivia, but I don’t want to burden her. She’s dealing with Josh’s loss in her own way, as well. I know it hit her hard to hear the news, and we spent nights crying together before I shut out the world.
Bri: Thanks, Cole
The bubbles appear and disappear on my screen a few times before they completely disappear. I can’t expect him to say anything else if I won’t open up. I sit back and watch a home remodeling episode while I think of what I would even begin expressing.
How sad I am? How confused? How I feel hopeless in this situation?
Ignoring the couple on TV, I grab my phone and begin to race across the keyboard.
Bri: I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to talk about. Everything hurts. Everything is a mess and I can’t catch my fucking breath. I have no idea how to move on from this or if I even want to… like how do you overcoe the death of a loved one? Of a partner?
Bri: Fuck… I meant overcome
Damn fast fingers.
I watch the damn bubbles for a long moment, mesmerized by their rhythm.
Cole: for someone not sure where to begin that was a lot of words
Cole: first of all stop trying so hard fight your emotions. Losing Josh is a big deal and no one is going to judge you for mourning
Bri: I guess… I’m just losing control
My phone rings in my hand, flashing Cole’s name.
“Hey.” I answer the call.
“Hi. This is easier than texting a bunch of stuff.”
“Okay…” I wait for him to say more, muting the television.
“Here’s the thing, Bri. No one can tell you what you’re doing is right or wrong. We don’t know what you’re feeling. Hell, the only people I’ve lost in my life are my grandparents, and they were old. What I can say is that hiding from the world won’t make you feel better, and it won’t change reality. Sorry to say that.”
“I know,” I whisper in response.
“I get it. It’s easier to seclude yourself than be bombarded with memories, but you still have a life to live. You’ve got so much to offer the people around you. We all miss seeing you.”
“I feel so weak. Desperate to see him again. Tell him how much I love him,” I confess.
“He knows that. Wherever he is, he knows how you feel. But Bri, you got your life.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“Sorry to break it to you, because you have way too much left to do in this world.”
“It’d be so much easier if I died.” The thought bypasses my rational brain and slips out. I hear Cole’s hard breath in my ear and cringe, not sure I’ll like his response.
“Hell. No,” he says firmly. “That doesn’t solve anything. All that will do is create more pain for those who care about you and Josh.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that… I have no idea what to do.”
“Do you think Josh died miserably? I mean, I know he didn’t want to die, but do you think he was fulfilling his purpose when it happened?”
“Yeah. I hate to admit it, but he was. He was protecting those he cared about.”
“That’s bravery. Honor him in that way. Honor his courage.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I guess.”
“I’m not going to say that will make everything peachy, but it will help to view him in a more positive way. Remember him with love and pride, but also with understanding of the sacrifice he made.”
“Thanks, Cole.” My voice is filled with emotion, but I can stay strong.
“Anytime. And Bri?”
“Yeah?” I wait for him to speak.
“Call me anytime you need me. I’ll do whatever it takes to restore your faith in life.”
“Thank you.” My lower lip quivers, but I maintain my composure. I hang up and curl deeper into the couch, covering myself with a blanket.
It’s time to honor Josh and his memory the way he deserves. Maybe that will help to slowly release the anger that is eating at me.