Survivor's Guilt

by Cassy Roop

  Have you internally punished yourself today?

  The beginning of the day, yes, I did. I internally scrutinized myself for my thoughts, feelings, and longing glances at Evan when I was in the childhood home of my husband. But after Linda’s reassuring words, I knew that I couldn’t do that to myself anymore.

  What did you do today to make you feel good?

  Today, I let myself breathe I think for the first time in forever. I let the tension roll off my shoulders. I let the guilt and hesitation subside.

  I CLOSED MY JOURNAL and laid it on the nightstand. I looked around my old room before I crawled underneath the covers and pulled them all the way up to my chin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shut my mind off. I kept rolling Linda’s words around in my thoughts searching for any reason or lie in her words, but in the end I couldn’t find one. I could easily see where Jeremy got his good morals and his ability to want others to be happy before himself from. Linda, without me needing to speak a word, could see the longing that simmered just below the surface between Evan and me. She didn’t need verbal confirmation to feel the hints of electricity in the air. No, because it could be felt by everyone, including us.

  I stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Evan was thinking right now. Even though we were in the same house, separated by one wall, I felt too far away from him. I was in desperate need of his warmth. I felt a great need and desire for him to tell me what I was feeling was okay, as if his permission would give me the catalyst I needed to finally let go.

  Throwing back the covers, I decided that I needed to see him. Since arriving in North Carolina, we hadn’t had a single moment to be alone. If we hadn’t been with my parents, we were with Jeremy’s. I needed his comfort.

  Tiptoeing out of my room as to not wake anyone, I took the few steps needed to arrive at the spare bedroom next to mine. I didn’t knock, not sure if Evan were sleeping or awake. It didn’t matter. I just needed to be near him. Just to see his face and be present in the same room would give me the comfort I needed.

  The door creaked ever so slightly as I opened it and entered the room. Shutting it, I walked slowly to where his still form lay in the bed. I was positive by the sound of his even breaths that he was asleep, until he rose to sitting and nearly caused me to scream in surprise.

  “Ellie?”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper yelled into the room, clutching my heart and trying to calm my erratic beating heart.

  “You scared me. I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Were you trying to sneak in here and watch me sleep?” He teased, rubbing at his eye with one hand while patting the bed with is other, extending to me an invitation to sit beside him.

  Tentatively, I walked over and sat next to him, feeling an instant flood of relief to my system from being so close to him. The springs of the mattress creaked in protest and I sank onto it and instantly laid my head on his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked as one arm snaked around me and he cradled my head against him while reaching for my hand with the other.

  “I just needed to be close to you,” I admitted, feeling like it was best if I told him the truth.

  “It’s been a pretty emotional couple of days for you. I didn’t intend for this trip to be. I just wanted you to be able to come and see your family. I know you’ve missed them.”

  “Yes, it has been, but I think I needed it. I think I needed the reassurance.”

  Evan pressed a kiss into my hair and I closed my eyes and soaked in the warmth of his gesture, absorbing the affection like the medicine my soul needed.

  “Reassurance about what?”

  “This, that this is okay.”

  I lifted my head to turn and look at him. Even though it was dark, I could tell that his blue eyes sparkled. I didn’t have to see the brightness of the color to know that what I had said affected him.

  “I think I kind of needed it for you as well. I know we are scared. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of anyone or anything in my life.”

  “You’re afraid of me?” I asked a little taken aback by his words.

  “Yes, but not in the way you are thinking.”

  He reached up and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, causing tingles to ripple down my jaw and neck as he did so.

  “I’m afraid that I could so easily get lost in you. I’m afraid that what I feel for you could easily have me teetering on the edge of falling in love with you, but I’m most scared of what happens when counseling is over and we have to go back to reality. See, these last few months with you have been a fantasy. In the beginning I was living in a dark fantasy world where the love of my life was taken from me. You know how it feels. Like we have been transported into an alternate universe with no way out.”

  His thumb stroked my cheek as his fingers threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp as he spoke.

  “The only thing real in the fantasy has been you. You are the only thing tethering me to the ground, keeping me upright and keeping my heart beating long enough to have another beat. At first I was scared of falling for you. I was scared of what people would think. I was scared of what Lilly would think. I was scared that I started to not feel regret or hesitation because it felt like betrayal. Now, now I’m scared of what is going to happen when I don’t have you with me anymore.”

  For what seemed like the millionth time in this short weekend, tears came easily. He just stated every fear that I was feeling without even knowing it.

  “I’m scared too.”

  Leaning in, Evan pressed his lips to mine, the pressure soft, soothing, comforting. It was slow, deliberate as if he were trying to memorize the way our mouths touched, the way our lips molded together and committing it to memory so that when the time came for us to go back to reality, he could carry it with him always.

  Our tongues danced, but it wasn’t hurried. Instead we made love with our mouths, taking the time to enjoy the moment, both afraid of what would happen if we were to pull away. His strong hands held my head to his firmly, both thumbs brushing against my cheeks. I held onto his forearms for leverage, getting caught in the high of him, and I feared that if I let go, I would surely float away.

  “Evan,” I breathed when his lips trailed down my jaw and to my collar bones, creating a million bumps to form on my skin, each one tingling with the need to be touched by him. Caressed by him.

  “We’re in your parents house,” he stated and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to remind me, or if he were trying to remind himself.

  His hands grazed down my shoulders, the spaghetti traps of my top, slipping off my shoulder. One hand came to cup my breast, instantly fueling my need, driving my desire, and heating me like an inferno from the inside out.

  “We should stop,” he said as his head dipped and his teeth grazed the hardened nub of my nipple through my shirt. Finally he stopped, resting his forehead on my chest, his breathing deep and long like he was struggling to regain his composure.

  When his head lifted, he looked into my eyes. Searching, wanting, needing.

  “I’m not ready for this to be over between us. I don’t know what it is, but I’m exhausted against fighting it. I don’t want to anymore.”

  His admission hit me in the stomach like nourishment I needed after being on a thirty day fast.

  “I’m not ready either.”

  “Ellie, you better go back to your room or the next thing your parents will hear is you screaming out my name. I want to be respectful so…please.”

  I nodded, but not before leaning in and giving him one last, hot, searing kiss before I walked back to my room.

  ***

  JOURNAL WEEK 3

  MONDAY

  How do you feel about yourself today?

  Pretty damn good. As soon as the plane had landed, I all but dragged Ellie home and into my bed where I proceeded to lose myself in her not once, but three times.

  Have you internally punished yourself today?

  No. The week
end of not being able to touch her like I wanted. Feel her like my body craved too all weekend. It was torture all on its own. No need for my own self mutilation.

  What did you do today to make you feel good?

  Today, when I woke up, it felt like everything was beginning to feel right again. When I opened my eyes, Ellie was laying next to me, her long dark hair fanned out over the pillow and her hand tucked right next to her cheek. If I could wake up every day like that, I think life would be pretty good.

  “HELLO EVERYONE. How are the journals coming along?” Sandi asked as she looked around the group. Some murmured that they often forgot to write it or that they didn’t really see any patterns to their behavior.

  Mine?

  All of my entries were centered on Ellie. Well, all except for the letter in the front. The letter where I poured my heart out to my dead wife and admitted my growing feelings for another woman. Ellie was my pattern. She was all of my happy thoughts that had occurred over the last few weeks. Hell, the last few months.

  “I’d like to start meeting with you on a one-on-one basis beginning next week. I would like to discuss your journal entries and get a sense for what stage you’re in during this process. Some of you may be ready to move on, some of you may not, and that is okay. Everyone processes grief differently. But tonight, I thought we could discuss what I want you to do for next week. I want you to think of a way to memorialize your loved one. This could be anything from a song that you sing, or a CD you play. You could write or read a poem, even share your letter with the group. Come prepared to share next week.”

  We all chatted about different things we could do in memory of our loved ones. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I had a few ideas that stuck out to me.

  “I—I need the restroom,” Ellie announced seconds before she darted out of her chair and out of the room. I stood up quickly to go after her, but Sandi told me that she would go check on her. My brows knitted together in worry as I sat back down and watched Sandi go after her. I had been concerned about her since we arrived back in the Keys yesterday. Trying to reassure me, she told me that she often suffers from vertigo after riding in an airplane. Sometimes to the point that it makes her nauseous. She informed me that it had something to do with the cabin pressure effecting her inner ears and that it usually goes away within a few days. It still didn’t stop me from being concerned about her.

  After what seemed like forever, Sandi emerged from the bathroom helping Ellie back to her seat. She offered me a small smile, but I could tell by the grey look to her face she still wasn’t feeling well.

  “Did you guys have a chance to brainstorm about your memorial project?” Sandi asked as she took a seat next to Ellie, I assumed to stay close in case she needed her. I wanted to be the one to sit next to her, but Sandi’s rule that we should sit next to someone different every session kept me from doing so.

  We all nodded our heads. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but I needed to find a way to do it. I knew that people were going to find it strange and odd about the way I have chosen to memorialize my dead wife, but I was hoping they could also see and understand the reason why.

  ***

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, we were home and Ellie told me she was going to go lay down for a while before dinner, stating that maybe some rest would do her some good in order to help combat the vertigo.

  When she wasn’t awake more than two hours after we were supposed to have dinner, I went downstairs to check on her.

  “Ellie?” I called as I opened the door to her apartment. I didn’t hear her respond, only the horrible sound of retching coming from the bathroom.

  “Ellie, are you okay?” I asked as I rapped my knuckles on the bathroom door. After several more violent protests of her stomach, she finally answered in a weak voice.

  “I’m fine. My stomach is just angry with me.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “No, please. I’ll be fine.”

  More vomiting and I didn’t care if she wanted me in there or not. My concern for her as well as my medical brain told me she wasn’t fine. Pushing open the door, I saw her flushed face as she sat on her knees in front of the toilet. Her dark hair was plastered to her temples with sweat and her eyes were closed like she was in pain.

  “Evan, no. Please,” she said lifting a limp arm and trying to shoo me out of the bathroom. Instantly I went into doctor mode and opened the bathroom cabinet to retrieve a washcloth. Turning the water to cold, I wetted the cloth and wrung it out before approaching her.

  “Baby, I think this might be a little more than vertigo. You probably caught some bug from someone on the plane,” I said as I sat on the floor beside her and began patting the cool washcloth over her flushed skin.

  “I—I think you could be right. I’m okay as long as I lay down, but when I stand up, my stomach starts to turn and I instantly feel sick.”

  I could see a hint of relief on her face as I continued to apply the cool washcloth to her skin.

  “You don’t feel like you are running a fever. Do you have any other symptoms? Headache? Diarrhea? Funny vision?”

  “Ewww, did you have to say diarrhea?” She tried to laugh, but I could easily see it didn’t agree with her.

  “I’m just trying to see if this could just be a virus, or if I might need to take you in for some tests.”

  “I’m fine, really. It’s just a horrible stomach bug. Nausea and dizziness are all I feel.”

  “Do you feel like you might get sick again?” I asked as I stood to rinse the cloth to make it cold once again.

  “No, I think it has subsided.”

  “Come on,” I said extending a hand to her, “I’ll help you get back in bed.”

  Ellie stood, but was instantly unsteady on her feet. Holding the washcloth in one hand, I bent down and hugged the backs of her thighs while placing the other arm behind her back to pick her up before walking her to her bedroom. I felt a little comforted by the fact she wasn’t running a fever which would be a clear sign there could be some infection. Pulling back the covers, I placed her in the bed and covered her up.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Running quickly into the kitchen, I retrieved a bottle of Tylenol out of the cabinet and a large cooking pot. When I returned she saw the bottle of medicine, but her brows scrunched together in curiosity when she saw me carrying the large pot.

  “It’s just in case you feel like you might get sick again and not be able to make it to the bathroom.” I sat the pot down next to the bed and the Tylenol on the nightstand.

  “You called me baby,” she whispered, snuggling into the pillow.

  “Let me get you some water,” was all I replied when I realized I had in fact called her ‘baby’. I shook it off as habit, often calling Lilly by the same endearment.

  When I returned, her eyes were closed and her breathing had evened out. She finally looked so at ease lying in the bed, that I couldn’t bring myself to wake her just to take the medicine. Setting the glass down on the nightstand so she would have it when she woke, I tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door slightly behind me. I was too concerned for her to go back upstairs, so instead I pulled the throw off the back of the couch and settled down, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

  JOURNAL WEEK 3

  TUESDAY

  How do you feel about yourself today?

  Overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. Waking up this morning and finding Evan on the couch was a surprise. I remembered being in the bathroom and totally tossing my stomach in front of him, then the next thing I remembered was waking up in bed. My heart swelled knowing that his concern for me meant he didn’t want to be too far away.

  Have you internally punished yourself today?

  At first, I did. I chastised myself insisting that the only reason Evan stayed on the uncomfortable couch was out of medical concern for me. My head telling me that he felt obligated to be sure that I was going to be okay. Yet my heart told me he did it because he truly care
d. Then I also scolded myself because this journal is supposed to be about grief. Getting over the pain of losing my husband. But how am I supposed to be feeling guilty and grief ridden over his death, now that just being with or around Evan makes me so happy? That too makes me guilty.

  What did you do today to make you feel good?

  I sat on the coffee table next to the couch and watched Evan sleep for several long minutes. I enjoyed seeing the content look on his face and the way his brows were smooth instead of squeezed together. I marveled as his full lips were slightly parted as he breathed, and how when he wasn’t frustrated, sad, or filled with guilt, he had a very boyish and youthful expression in his calmness. I also may have squealed internally when in his subconscious, it was my name that passed his lips.

  “GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE,” I smiled as Evan’s eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the light. His blue orbs were unfocused as if he were trapped somewhere between being awake and his dreamy subconscious.

  “Morning, baby,” he replied as his eyes fluttered closed and back open again, this time more focused.

  “You know, that’s the second time you’ve called me that,” I smiled.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Ell,” he yawned as he sat up. The muscles of his uncovered chest grew taut with movement and I couldn’t help but blatantly stare at his body.

  “Don’t apologize. I—I kinda like it,” I reassured him. And it was the truth. Even though he’s said twice now, although subconsciously, the endearment still made me feel warm. Happy. A little giddy.

  “Did you sleep on the couch all night?” I asked when he was sitting upright and rubbing the muscles in his neck and wincing as if in pain.