by Sydney Lane
"I had a sister, Liza." Had. One word that changes everything. "She committed suicide a little over a year ago." She doesn't fall apart. She doesn't cry or wail or scream at the world. I get the impression she's already past that.
"That sucks." I'm not going to tell her how sorry I am or how the pain will fade over time. I'm not going to sugarcoat it because she knows as well as I do that words are useless in the matter of grief. Finally, I know what it is that I've only caught glimpses of before now. Quincy and me- we're as different as night and day, but our hearts knew each other.
"Yeah. Big time." She smiles a sad, relieved kind of smile, the one that makes it easy to see why Declan fell in love with her. "You remind me of her. The way you hide your feelings, the way you love so hard and hurt so deep. But Liza, there's one difference between you and her."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"You have hope. Katie didn't." The name does something to me, and I conjure up a mental picture of what she might've looked like. Was she sweet and delicate like Quincy? Or was she a bitch like me? Was she strong and fierce? Or was she hollow and weak? "Why are you telling me this?"
"If I can help just one person, Katie's death won't be in vain. If I can use my pain to heal someone else, it's worth it."
"What do I do?" I whisper, my bottom lip trembling.
I want it. I want what she's talking about. Hope. I feel it winding through my body and wrapping itself around my heart. For the first time in a long while, I feel it. It's this really warm and fuzzy feeling that makes your world a little bit bigger, the ache in my heart a little bit lighter.
The same way I feel when I look at Declan. Hope.
Huh. That's what it feels like. Who knew?
"You're allowed to fall apart, Liza. You're allowed to ask for help. You're allowed to cry and cuss and hate the world. As a matter of fact, that's the healthiest thing you can do. But then, you pick up the pieces, and you put yourself back together. Except this time, you do it the way you want to be, not the way you were."
Chapter 51
Declan
I knew just where I'd find him.
The minute Quincy said he was at the cabin, it's as if I was drawn here, to this dock, a place that, no matter what life has thrown at me, calms me. At the foothills of the Smokeys, it's a beautiful testament to God's grace. People who don't believe have never been here.
I take a deep breath, savoring the quiet, the peace that only nature can provide. The scent of pine and water wafts on the air, a cool breeze lightly blowing. I watch a butterfly float aimlessly, flitting from flower to flower. So beautiful and fragile, yet they are a sign of strength and resilience. The beauty of change.
I still remember the first night I met Brody and Eric. It was the first night of Rush, and we just hit it off. A coincidental meeting that led to a tight friendship, a bond beyond the fraternity. Beyond brotherhood.
Brody, Eric, Seth, Drew... my bond brothers, but I have two blood brothers, Trevor and Ashton. We're all about as different as siblings can be. I catch all kinds of shit because I'm the youngest, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for one of them, nothing that would change the way I feel about them. I used to feel the same way about the guys.
It sucks hard when one of your brothers betrays you, but it sucks big donkeys when you find out your other brothers knew and didn't say anything. Not only did I lose the girl, I lost my pride.
Pride has no place in forgiveness. Sometimes, forgiving is as much about laying down our pride as it is the actual act of forgiveness. Opening your heart, licking your wounds, and moving on- that's what it's about.
Forgiving isn't for the faint of heart. True forgiveness often wounds us as much as it heals us. It makes us face our own truths, the ones we hide the deepest, protect the fiercest. It leaves us bare, and sometimes, it's like seeing ourselves for the very first time.
For a while now, I've known that I didn't love Quincy the way I thought I did. It was the idea of her- the sweet innocence of her soul- that I loved. She brought out everything good in me, made me want to love her and protect her... and be her best friend.
Growing up in church, we were taught to choose a certain type of girl for a wife, as if virgins with submissive personalities were the only ones who would be worthy. And everyone knew you were supposed to get married as soon as you graduated and have the mandatory three kids while your wife volunteered for every available church function and you supported the family.
How mind-numbingly boring that all sounds.
God, I am so glad Liza doesn't fit the mold. In fact, she breaks the mold.
Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and my eyes are drawn to Brody. He expertly raises his arm over his shoulder, and with the flick of his wrist, casts his fishing line. I walk onto the dock, coming to a stop next to him. For several moments, neither of us speaks as we look out across the water. The water is still, the sun shimmering on its surface in the distance.
"Catchin' anything?" I reach for a spare fishing rod, bait it, and take a seat next to Brody on the wooden slats of the dock. I stare at a spot across the lake, my eyes turned away from him.
"I caught a few, too small to keep." He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Where are the guys?" If Seth were close by, I would've heard him by now.
"They went hiking. Wanted to go up to the falls, but I stayed behind. Felt like fishing before the weather changes." He turns toward me, studying me, before turning back to the lake.
"God, I've always loved this place."
"You're always welcome here. Always have been."
I feel a tug on my line, and I sit up straight, eager to win this small battle. I draw back, reeling it in slowly, the weight straining against my rod. I struggle with the fish, finally reeling him in. I work to loosen the hook from his mouth, inspect for damage, and release him. First rule of nature: Do no harm.
"That was a big one." Brody reaches for my rod and reel, baiting the line. "Haven't seen one that big all season." So, yeah, I feel good about that. Catching the bigger fish isn't the same as stealing his girl, but it'll do for now.
No, no, no. I don't mean that. Really.
I take my rod from his hand, casting once again. We sit silently, both of us waiting for the other to speak but neither of us knowing what to say.
"Listen, I-"
"I'm sorry."
We speak at the same time, our words overlapping, uncomfortable. For a moment, we fall back into silence, once again focusing on the lake. I take a deep breath of fresh air, remembering the many times I've been up here before.
"Declan, I'm s-" Brody begins again, but I cut him off.
"Don't." I take a deep breath, exhaling sharply as the reality of what I'm about to say hits me full force. "Don't ever apologize to me again. Don't apologize for loving her. Don't apologize for being the one she chose, and don't ever apologize for making her happy."
"I love her." His words are strong, filled with conviction.
"I know. I get it." And I do. I'm just now getting a lot of things I never understood before.
"Just let me say this. I never meant for this to happen. She didn't-" He sighs, impatiently running a hand through his hair. "I just wish I could change the way things happened. I fought it, being with her, you know. I tried to tell you, but there never seemed to be a good time. God, I love that girl, Dec. I love her more than I could've ever imagined it was possible to love another human being. She means everything to me, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life proving it." He pauses, his eyes filled with regret. "You're my brother, and I should've talked to you."
"Just be good to her, be there for her, and make sure she stays happy because if she doesn't, I'm coming after you." I laugh, realizing that he's just spoken aloud the way that I feel about Liza.
"If I hurt her, I want you to come for me." He claps me on the back, the words spoken light-heartedly but carrying a serious undertone.
Instantly, it feels as if a wei
ght has been lifted off my shoulders.
Forgiving isn't always something you do for the other person. Sometimes, forgiving is something you do for yourself. Forgiveness sets you free.
Chapter 52
Eliza
Pamphlet #1 - University of Tennessee Student Health Services
There are five stages of grief.
Did you know that? Five. And to add insult to injury, you can experience them in any given order, moving backwards and forwards, multiple times.
Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
But I think they got it wrong. They, whoever 'they' are, left one out, the most important one if you ask me. Recovery.
I don't believe grief has to be an endless cycle, a perpetual circle that never ends. Someday, you have to hit a wall, a point when you say 'enough is enough', and you decide to get off the train.
I've experienced all of these stages at some point in the last year, and for good measure, I repeated some of them. I've been stuck in denial for too long, but right now, I'm angry- beyond angry- pissed. Raging against life as I know it.
I walked the bridge of acceptance, hope lighting the path, a beacon in the darkness.
It's as if by finally accepting what happened, finally acknowledging the truth, I've been given permission to be angry. Angry for what was taken from me, angry for letting it take control of my life, angry for letting something so wonderful pass me by.
For the first time, I'm not sad. I'm not bitter. I'm angry because I was raped.
I was raped.
I was young and stupid. I made some horrible decisions, and I will have to live with that for the rest of my life. But I'm not accepting blame for this any longer. Being stupid doesn't mean I deserved it. Being naive doesn't mean I asked for it. Being there... didn't give him the right.
I was raped.
Just thinking the words terrifies me, giving them a life of their own, and with that, the power to wound. There's no hiding from it anymore. Stripped bare, broken and exposed, I am forced to accept the truth.
I was raped.
"Liza?" Coach Senton's voice drags me out of the depths of my soul. She watches me expectantly, concerned, and I can only imagine what I must look like in this moment. And believe me, no matter how fast you run from it, 'this moment' always comes- the one where the past catches up to the present. When everything dark comes to light.
"Ummm..." I clear my throat, painfully twisting my fingers in the hem of my shirt. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Coach." My voice is raw and gritty, almost as if I've swallowed a handful of sand. My heart chooses that exact moment to begin raging wildly against my chest, a hollow pit forming in my stomach. For an instant, my vision dims, becoming hazy. I vaguely hear Coach talking over the ringing in my ears.
This can't be happening. Not now, when I'm finally working my shit out.
"-and I was thinking, maybe we could- " The words fade as she trails off, her eyes fixed on me. Her mouth is moving, and I suddenly feel as if I'm watching one of those old movies, the ones with no words. I try to speak, even as this feeling of spiraling out of control takes over. I open my mouth and promptly close it, unable to speak, unable to breathe, and the circles grow larger as things begin to go black... fading.
And I welcome it.
"Liza, I need you to calm down. Breathe for me." Coach's arms envelope me, gently, almost delicately, in a way I would've never believed her capable of. The suffocating feeling tightens, rendering me helpless, and I wonder if my heart is truly breaking. "Come on. Focus. Think of something nice and soothing. A vacation, the ocean..."
Her words are lost to me once more as my mind takes me to my escape. Declan.
Declan smiling. Declan running beside me. Declan touching me.
Declan who loved me even when I didn't love myself.
Air fills my lungs in a harsh gasp, my vision slowly returning to normal. My body is strangely off balance, assaulted by long-buried memories. I draw in several shaky breaths, finding myself in the most unexpected situation. Coach's arms are wrapped around me, her breathing just as shallow as mine. Again, I'm ashamed.
It follows me everywhere, the shame of it all.
Slowly, Coach pulls away, her eyes searching mine.
"I ca-, I can't,- I ca-" The words stick in my throat, even the most basic functions prove difficult. "-breathe."
"Just keep breathing. Focus. You're doing just fine, Liza." This, from the toughest softball coach in the nation. If I weren't so mortified, I might find some humor in it.
I just fell apart in front of my coach. I didn't just fall apart, I lost it. Completely.
"I'm so sorry." I sit up straighter, self-consciously adjusting my ponytail. I avert my eyes, unable to face what could only be shock and disdain.
"Liza, look at me." Her voice is stern, commanding, no hint of the kind and reassuring tone from just a few seconds ago. I meet her curious gaze because she commands it. I have no choice but to comply. "Have you told anyone?" Her brows arch, her eyes full of concern, as her hands clench into fists.
For one blissful instant, I don't quite comprehend her question. Until... I do.
Hysteria gives way to pure terror as it dawns on me that she knows. She knows. And then I do what I do best. I deny. I lie. I deflect.
"Told anyone what?" All of a sudden, I sound like a rebellious teen. She gives me that stern 'don't bullshit me' look that most coaches have down to an art form. "Look, Coach, I don't know what you're thinking. I know it looks bad, but I've had these... attacks... for a while now. It happens when I get stressed." I shrug my shoulders, struggling to maintain my composure or what little is left of it.
"Liza-" She begins but stops short, her eyes searching my face. I can't even consider what she sees, what little signs I give away, while she studies me. I'm not ready for this. I wish I was, but I've only just begun to understand it myself. I'm still grieving, still angry, and just trying to survive. "You don't have to tell me anything. I understand that, but I have an open door policy, and I take a genuine interest in my girls. That includes you." She waits, holding her breath. Finally, she lets out an exasperated sigh, defeated, as it dawns on her that I have no intention of confiding in her. "My door's always open."
"I know. It's just that I don't, I mean, there's nothing, you know, to talk about." I stammer my way through what has to be the most fucked up explanation ever. I bet she thinks I'm crazy. She probably regrets letting me walk onto the team. I wouldn't blame her is she showed me the door and let it slap me in the ass on my way out.
"Okay. Well, that's settled." Her face screws up in the sorriest excuse for a smile that I've ever seen. It's almost painful to watch. "Worst. Idea. Ever."
I shake my head, pasting on my own overly bright smile. "No, it's not that-"
"Yes. It is. And it's okay for you to say so." She reaches across her desk, her hand extended toward mine, before she realizes what she's about to do and self-consciously drops it. "What did he do?"
"Nothing." I lie, holding my breath. Her eyes narrow in suspicion. On a release of air, I gush, "Everything."
"That's what I was afraid of."
Chapter 53
Declan
"What's up with you, man?" I ask Seth. He's on edge, a football player-sized bundle of nerves and energy, pacing like a caged animal. He anxiously chews on his thumb nail as his eyes flick to the watch on his wrist for the hundredth time in the last hour.
"Nothing. Why?" He arches a brow, promptly dropping his hand from his mouth. Guilty.
"You waitin' on somebody or something?" I turn to the window, half expecting someone to magically appear. That's when I notice he's had a haircut and shaved. He's exchanged his ripped jeans and cowboy boots for slacks and dress shoes. He's sober on a Saturday afternoon.
This is new. And interesting.
"What? No." He winces, trying to act as if he's not about to throw up. The thin film of sweat forming on his brow, the scared but wistful look in his eyes, gives h
im away. "Don't you have a softball game to go to or somethin'?"
He attempts to change the subject, but I'm not letting him off the hook yet. I've been meaning to talk to him for a while now. The drinking, the partying, the risks he's been taking... all of that points to something big going on in his life.
"The game is later." I wait, watching him as he crosses the room and sits on the weathered green sofa in the corner. It would win an award, if one was offered, for the ugliest couch on campus. No telling what all has happened right there on that skanky piece of furniture. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he cradles his head in his hands and stares at the floor. He exhales loudly before looking up. His eyes meet mine, dark and conflicted and brimming with tears.
This is also new.
"You don't want to meet my demons. Trust me, man.” He shakes his head before once again lowering his anguished gaze to the floor. His shoulders slump, the biggest guy I know slowly falling to pieces right before my eyes.
It's then that I realize that I know nothing about Seth, his family, or anything about his life before college. He showed up to Rush his freshman year, rumored to be the best quarterback in the country, and took our fraternity and this campus by storm.
Nothing has been the same ever since.
It's as if we didn't know what we were missing until he came along. Eric, Brody, and I had been initiated the previous semester, and we were beginning to become disenchanted with the fraternity scene. Eric's parents were pressuring him to concentrate on school. He's expected to carry on the family tradition by attending Vanderbilt School of Law. Even though Brody loved the girls who hung around the house, he was working and studying a lot, preparing for his med school admission test. I was just tired of all of it. Living in the house, I wasn't getting any sleep, and my fraternity duties were overwhelming. We were burnt out.
That's where Seth came in.
Loud, boisterous, and offering his hilarious words of wisdom, he turned the house upside down. Leading raids on other houses, streaking through campus, kidnapping mascots. His exploits are notorious, his reputation infamous. He reminded us that life shouldn't be taken so seriously, that we should live for the moment.
