Sometimes I don’t understand how life can move on for people after they lose a spouse. I’ve yet to wake up from this nightmare; the never-ending darkness consuming me from the inside out.
It took all of three weeks for me to run people off. Three weeks since the funeral, five since the shooting, and I managed to become a ball of isolation. I pushed my friends away and even worse; they stayed gone. I ignored my phone, when it did ring, and the knocking on my door.
But there’s something about the knock I’m hearing now. Something about how my skin prickles at the quiet desperation of it that makes me get off of my makeshift bed on the sofa and peek through the crack in the drawn curtains.
The outside is wet, pouring rain as it has much of the last two weeks. Perfect for my mood, honestly. The dark dreariness actually soothes me in a way that the bright sunshine once did. Like the earth is wallowing in my misery. I like its company, after all.
But seeing the picture outside on this particular day only causes my heart to break in a different way. Because standing outside under heavy falling sheets of water, stands Cameron. And, truthfully, I don’t know who looks worse for wear, me in my three-day old sweats or Cam in his unshaven, wet, disheveled state. Even so, I want to be left alone.
I walk around to the door and open it up. Staring back at me are dark, lost eyes. Nothing like the Cam that I’ve known for years.
“I quit my job.” His voice barely reaches over the booming rain
“So, you decided to drive over here and tell me?” I look for his truck, but I don’t see it. “I don’t know where you parked, Cam, but please. Get back in it and go home.” I start to shut the door, but his voice carries over.
“It’s at the office.”
I push the door open, staring at him in disbelief. “Cameron! You walked here in the rain?”
He nods at me, slightly shivering. I can’t let him stay out there no matter how much I want to be by myself.
“You idiot, that’s three miles away, easily. Get your ass inside, now.” I step aside and let him in before slamming the door shut. “You’ve got an hour to dry your clothes, call a cab, and leave me the hell alone.”
I turn away from him and walk back to my little cocoon on the sofa. I wrap the blanket around me, plop my ass down, and turn on the movie I was watching before, The Notebook. Brad had a thing for Ryan Gosling, and his guilty pleasure was this sad, sap of a movie. When Cam returns, he’s got a towel around his shoulders, drying his hair, and only wearing a tight pair of boxer briefs.
“What the hell happened in here, Logan?”
Annoyed that he’s ruining the movie – even though I’ve watched it at least ten times in the last few days – I slam the remote into the leather seat after pressing pause.
“Don’t. Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re about to give me a lecture.”
“Someone needs to say something, Logan. But no one can because you’ve shunned us all, you’re living in a pigsty, and you haven’t even gone to work. Also, there’s a significant –” he sniffs the air and scrunches his nose. “–smell.”
I look around the messy room I’m in and shrug. Who the fuck cares if I haven’t cleaned?
“Logan, this isn’t living. Holing up in your house, alone, dirty, and uncaring? Biting everyone’s head off if they even try to talk to you. I know you’re hurting, that even something as mundane as breathing is a simple chore every day, but you have to let people in. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself and beating yourself up over something that isn’t your fault.”
“Cameron. You need to shut the fuck up before I punch a hole where your face is. You didn’t lose your spouse, just another boyfriend.” Immediately I regret shouting the words to him as I watch his face fall, changing from sadness to shock to anger.
“Cam, I’m so sorry.” I try to apologize but it’s useless. He turns around and heads back toward the back of the house.
I try to follow him but the blanket is wrapped tightly around me. I finally stand up but trip over the cloth that sticks under my foot. I eventually right myself but not before I see Cam in his wet clothes, at the front door. Before he completely walks out into the pouring rain, he turns back to me.
“I’m the last person you haven’t pissed off, at least I was until about five minutes ago. This whole ‘woe is me’ act is getting old. You’re not the only one hurting here. And while you wallow all day, slowly melting away into nothing, just know that the guys at D-One, the team that counts on you for leadership, is working day and night on the case to find the asshole that’s doing this.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to speak as he steps out into the thunderous rain, slowly disappearing into the storm.
I slam my door shut. Fuck him. I said I wanted to be left alone. I said I wanted him to leave and not to bother me. I’m still mourning and what passes through my mouth right now can’t be taken seriously. I know that and he should too.
I still feel a twinge of regret in what remains of my heart, betraying what my mind keeps trying to tell itself. Regardless, I don’t let it bother me too long as I replay what Cameron said before he left.
D-One took the case. They’re helping the HPD, and no doubt the feds, in the nightclub investigation. For the first time in weeks, I actually feel hope slither its way into my veins.
Maybe something good will come from this nightmare after all.
I don’t know how it’s possible to feel even worse than I have these last few weeks but Logan managed to knock me down another peg.
I’ve barely eaten, I’m lucky if I remember to shower, and I can’t tell you the last time I went to work to…work. Here I am berating Logan for doing the very thing I myself am doing. I don’t even know how I managed to get to work today but as soon as I walked through the doors, I knew what I wanted.
I walked right into Richie’s office and quit. My business partner tried to sway my decision but I knew at that moment that I couldn’t be the doctor that my patients needed me to be. After a similar call to the hospital, I felt relief. And somehow, in that same moment, Logan was the only thing on my mind despite his reluctance to see anyone. Not that I could blame him.
In a daze, I walked into the pouring rain and to Logan’s house. I didn’t even realize I was headed his way until I got there. I was surprised he even opened the door for me and truthfully, I almost walked away. But it was the blow to my nearly shattered heart that made what was left of me crumble when he said those words to me. That my pain and suffering didn’t matter, that it was less significant than his was.
I still feel the white-hot rage in me. I still feel its burn leaving more scars inside. And I can still feel the pity that only escalated when Logan took all his frustrations out on me. But it’s no excuse, what he said.
I don’t know how I’m even able to make it through each day. In a sick way, Logan is right. Losing the person, you vowed to spend the rest of your life with is unbearable. Josh and I were not quite there, but losing him was like having my heart ripped from my chest and stomped on, just the same. I’ve begun to rebuild, but Logan hasn’t. He lost a part of himself that will never heal.
After an hour of walking, I finally make it back to my truck. Luckily, the heavy downpour fizzles out into a light mist by the time I get back. I dig into my wet jeans and pull out my keys, unlocking my truck. I jump inside, blasting the heat, and warming my chilled bones. I lean my forehead on the steering wheel, catching my breath and trying to still the thoughts running rampant in my head.
When I finally look up, the small cross hanging over the rear-view mirror catches my eye and things just hit me, all at once – Logan’s words, the empty sheets at night, and the loss of my best friend. Sure, I’ve had time to mourn, but tonight with Logan and now seeing the cross Josh hung just days before the shooting, it’s the final straw.
I beat the steering wheel while warm tears fall down my face. My fists keep pounding on the tan leather until they’re numb and bruised. I sit in my truck, dazed and heartbroken until I hear a bang on the window.
I don’t realize that the rain has started up again until I see Logan’s face in the passenger window, droplets of water dripping from his wet, shaggy hair. I stare at him, scowling at the face that’s reignited the rage I thought I purged.
I click the button to my left and the window rolls down halfway. “Did you forget to tell me something? Should I have not gone to the bathroom that night? Should I have somehow aimed that knife at me instead of that bastard? What, Logan?” I snap at him, not caring how I sound.
His face contorts into a grimace. “Fuck you, Cameron. I came here to apologize. Whatever.” He turns around, walking across a few spaces in the parking lot to where his truck is parked.
“Gah, Logan. You frustrate me to no end. Get your ass in this truck now.” I spit my words at him, ignoring the returning grimace on his face as he gets in my truck.
We sit in silence for a moment, swimming in the awkwardness, trying to pretend the last hour and a half never happened. Finally, I turn to Logan and just start talking.
“Logan, it feels like we lost you that day along with Brad and Josh. Except that you’re still here. Or, a shell of yourself is. No one understands more than me what you’re going through, even if it was just me dating Josh. I keep trying to tell people to give you time; that you need space. But people don’t listen and it’s only making you withdraw more.”
I go silent as he rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, earlier. I was speaking out of fear and anger. I…I’m still not over everything. I’m not sure I’ll ever be and the fact that I have to return to the real world someday, without Brad, terrifies me. He’s all I’ve known for years.”
“And I get that. Trust me, I do. But I’m here.” I take his hand, rather reluctantly, in my own and give it a squeeze. It’s inappropriate, but I don’t care. I try to ignore the zing that races along my skin that chills me even more than the wetness from the rain. But the moment we touch, I don’t want to.
The first time I held his hand, we were teammates, brothers, meeting for the first time. The second time, it was in comfort, mourning the loss of our loved ones. This time is different. It feels different. A happy different as wrong as it is.
“I was serious about quitting today. I can’t do my job anymore, at least not in a way that’s safe for my patients. I’m taking up my spot at D-One. So, you’re not in this alone.”
“Are you sure?” He raises an uncertain eyebrow at me. “I mean, are you sure you’re ready to leave the practice?”
“I need to. I can’t split my focus on catching the asshole that did this to us and work. I need to see this come to an end. And I need you there with me to do it.”
“Okay. I think I’m ready if you are. Let’s go to the office.”
“Now? We’re both drenched.”
“It’s as good a time as ever.”
I watch him close his eyes and take in a deep, shaky breath. He gives my hand a hard squeeze then let’s go.
I crank the heater on, trying to quell the chills in my body and dry our clothes off. Then I put my truck in reverse and head to D-One.