I choose to ignore my mother’s question. She steps closer to me and places her hand on my arm. “It might help going there and us all being together.”
I shrug her off. Nothing is going to help. I take the glass that she placed on the island in front of me and fill it halfway with juice and take a sip in hopes she will drop the subject.
“Honey, please, come with us.”
The emotions have been bottling up for weeks, waiting to burst into flames, and apparently her persistence is the just the gasoline I needed. “No,” I say barely above a whisper.
“Please!”
I slam the glass down on the counter, causing juice to spill out. “No! Get that in your head—no! Do you need me to get a plane to write it in the sky? N-O! It hurts so fucking much, I don’t want to go there. I don’t need another reminder that he is not here. I hate him. I hate him for dying…for leaving me. He lied. He told me he would be careful driving home.” The tears have been unleashed; there is no stopping them now. “I’m never going to be happy again, don’t you see that? Don’t you get that? Every day I wake up is another day that Emmett doesn’t. I feel like I’m suffocating—fighting for air to breathe.” I slam my hands on my chest. “What about me? What about my feelings? Didn’t my feelings matter? He just up and died, left without saying goodbye. He left me here to pick up the pieces. I can’t…I can’t…”
I’m struggling to breathe in between my words. My father has since come into the room after hearing the commotion. I can see him standing in the doorway, not daring to say anything. “I don’t know how to be without him—I don’t want to be without him. I didn’t want him to go.”
Before I know it, my legs have given out and I’m sitting on the floor and my mother’s arms are around me. My mother’s tears freely flow down her face. I can feel them drop from her skin onto mine. She always tries to be strong, but she is giving in to my sadness.
“Oh honey, none of us did. That’s not how this works though. Life is cruel and unfair, and the reality we face is we never know when our time is up. We wish it was only when we are old and have lived a full life, not at only eighteen. I hate this for you, for all of us. I’m forced to sit here and watch my best friend grieve the loss of her son. My own kids have to learn to live a life without their other half. Sometimes when Zach comes home I still expect to see Em behind him. There is no greater pain for a parent than to watch their child hurt, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to make you feel better. I’ve spent these last few weeks watching you slip further and further away from us. I can’t lose you too. I wish I could bring him back.”
“Mommy, it hurts so much…make the pain stop.”
Her arms tighten around me. “I know, Danielle. I wish I could.” I allow myself to cry in her arms and seek comfort in her embrace. “This is why I don’t think you should be alone today. Please just come with us, Danielle.”
I push out of her arm and stand, then take the glass and throw it against the wall. “No!” I scream and storm past her and my father and run to the stairs to retreat to my room.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, the front door opens and my brother walks in. “Dani? Are you okay?”
I ignore him; he should know the fucking answer to his question. Will I ever be okay again? I run up the stairs, slam the door, and crawl back into bed to forget about today. Pulling his photo off the nightstand and into my arms, I whisper, “Happy Birthday, baby.”
T hey say the worst day of loving someone is the day you lose them, but I’m not sure I believe that. Yes, it’s the worst feeling ever, but what about every day you wake up after? Those hurt worse. I’m only eighteen years old and already have enough heartache to last a lifetime. Each day that passes is just another day to wake up, exist, and go to bed. After 2.5 months of having work sent home, my parents forced me to return back to school, to try to return to normal and enjoy the last few months left before graduation. The school was understanding of the circumstances as long as I kept up the work, but my parents said I couldn’t stay holed up in my room forever. I didn’t see anything wrong with that plan though. There wasn’t much left for me anymore; all the plans I’d made for my future had revolved around Em, and I wasn’t sure what was next anymore.
Everyone is always staring at me. I know they talk about me behind my back, and I frankly don’t give a damn. I’m the girl left behind, the broken one, the sad one, the freak, the one who has emotional breakdowns in class. The first few weeks back at school, everyone hovered, asking if I was okay, how I was holding up, telling me how much they missed Em, how great a guy he was. Now, everyone will just ask how I am doing in passing and I just give a brief “I’m fine.” I know I’m lying, and I know they know I’m lying, but they know not to push since I won’t tell them the truth. I feel like they are all just waiting for me to break again, to lose it as if they just expect it from me. They don’t get it—they don’t get the emptiness I feel every day. Nothing they do or say will bring him back.
Each day is the same: I wake up, go to school, come home, push food around on my plate, then go to bed. I thank God I made it through the day, but I still end up crying myself to sleep. My usual wardrobe of jeans and bright-colored tops is replaced with yoga pants, T-shirts, and hoodies. Haylee will ride with me some days, but most days I prefer to be alone. On days that she does ride with me, we don’t listen to music or laugh like we used to. She is getting through the days just like I am. We’re not the same as we once were. I’m not sure we ever will be again.
While our friends are spending their senior year doing normal things—preparing for college, soaking up the last few months of high school, going to bonfires, parties, and games—I spend my time alone either in my room or on the swing on the front porch. I’ve pushed everyone who once mattered away, shutting them out. Spending time with old friends doesn’t heal me; it hurts. Spending time at places we used to hang out such as the ice cream shop or the mall just remind me of the memories of the past. It all just reminds me of what is lost, seeing happy couples and remembering I’ll never have that again. I don’t have the answers I want, the answers to know why this had to happen to us. I find myself falling further and further into this black hole of darkness. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t feel, I don’t think. I’m just numb.
My parents tried to take me to see a therapist. In the beginning, they drove me and waited in the office, and then in the parking lot over time. There wasn’t anything I wanted to share with her. Eventually I stopped going. My parents had plenty to say, but eventually they, with the help of my brother, came to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready to talk.
But over time I did need to talk to someone. It didn’t matter who as long l as I got it out. It wasn’t healthy for me to keep it all bottled up inside is what they said. The therapist had suggested keeping a journal. I tried that too. For about two weeks I wrote in the journal as if I were writing letters to Emmett, talking about my day, asking questions, venting about everyone hovering. But during those two weeks, with no response from him, I continued to get angry. I’m not really sure what I expected since he was gone. How would he respond? It was the principle of the matter, I guess.
IT’S a typical Friday night here, with me alone in my room. Well, not totally alone, sometimes I hang out with Jack, Jim, or Jose. This time though, I was able to sneak a bottle of Mom’s wine up here. Tonight is the senior prom, and even though Haylee and some other friends begged me to attend, even going as a group, I just couldn’t do it. So, here I am sitting in my room, half a bottle of wine gone. I know it was probably a bad idea, but I’m not the best thinker these days. Mom had gone over to the Hankses’ house to see Haylee off and ended up staying to hang out while my dad went to Philly to see some sports game with Zach. They had both protested leaving at first, but I promised them I was fine and that I had a night planned for one: movies and Chinese takeout.
While yes, I do have a movie on and ordered way too much food for just one person, I find myself sitting on the bed. To the left of me is a photo of me and Emmett from prom last year. It was one of the photos I had taken from his room at the apartment. I loved that dress
—I had instantly fallen in love with it, but then I saw the price tag and thought it was better to move on. My mother had other ideas though; she convinced me to just try it on. As I walked out of the dressing room, the room went silent and the next thing I knew we were walking out of the store carrying a garment bag filled with that dress.
To my right is something a little more emotional—the card and box that Emmett had hidden in his desk drawer. I still haven’t opened it. Every day I stare at it on the nightstand. It’s like it’s taunting and teasing me, knowing once I open this, that’s it. I’m not sure if it’s nerves of the emotions swirling around with what tonight should have been or the amount of liquid courage running through my veins, but I reach out for the card and slide my fingers along the top to slice the envelope open.
As I pull the card out, my breath catches, and I try to swallow the lump of Chinese food that’s creeping up my throat. I flip the card open to see more of his chicken-scratch handwriting. I used to joke with him that he should be a doctor since his handwriting was so shitty. What I wouldn’t give to see his shitty writing.
Blinking back the tears, I read his handwritten message:
Cupcake,
Happy anniversary, baby girl! Can you believe it – 5 years? I can’t believe it because it seems like I loved you for a lifetime. I know these past few months apart have been rough. Having to always leave you tears me up inside, but we have the rest of our lives.
Shit, if only he knew the impact of his words now. Having him leave me in the way he did didn’t just tear me up, it full-on gutted me.
Here is only a little something I have planned. Looking at all these cheesy cards I just couldn’t decide which one to buy. But this spoke to me because the words couldn’t be more true. You will forever be my always. I love you, Emmett.