“go take care of our boy.”
I nodded in agreement and turned to walk toward my bedroom. Each step I took felt heavy. I didn’t know how to give Landon what he needed because he wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t opening up. He wasn’t letting me—or anyone—in.
As I entered my room, I saw his body curled up in a ball. He hugged one of my pillows, and his eyes were shut. He looked so fragile, so broken.
I crawled onto the bed and lay behind him. I wrapped my body around his and snuggled up against him, feeling his chilled skin against my warmth.
“You don’t have to do that,” he commented.
“Do what?”
“Hold me.”
That was when I held on tighter. I knew when people say you don’t have to hold on to them, that’s when you need to hold on the most. I’d done it for my mother on the nights she cried after she learned about my father’s betrayal. I’d crawled into her bed, wrapped her in my embrace, and held on tight.
I did the same for Landon, thinking of Mima’s words as I did so.
Sé valiente. Sé fuerte. Sé amable. Y quédate.
Be brave. Be strong. Be kind. And stay.
Landon wasn’t notified of when his father’s funeral was taking place. April hadn’t replied to any of his messages, so we had to track the information down on our own. When Landon, his mom, and I showed up to the church where the funeral was being held, we were stopped almost immediately when April saw us walking into the building.
“No,” she stated in her all-black outfit. Her eyes were puffy as if she hadn’t slept in days, and her hair was pulled up into a perfectly crafted bun. “You can’t be here.”
Landon stuffed his hands into the pockets of his gray slacks and shrugged. “He was my father. I think I have a right to be here more than you do.”
“That’s not how Ralph would’ve wanted it,” she disagreed.
Landon’s mother stepped forward, standing tall with her shoulders rolled back. “Yes, well, that’s not a call for you to make.”
“You definitely shouldn’t be here,” April scolded, eyeing Landon’s mother up and down. “You’re the last person he’d want here.”
“I was married to him for over twenty years. And you were, what? Screwing him for twenty days?”
“Try seven years,” April spat out, the venom in her words stinging Lori. “And the only reason he was able to put up with you in those last few years was because he had me to come to when he was overwhelmed with you.”
“I knew it,” Lori murmured, her nostrils flaring.
A sinister smile curved April’s lips as if she felt victorious in finally voicing the truth of her affair with Ralph, but I didn’t understand why she’d feel good about that. How could someone feel good about being so evil?
“You’re disgusting,” Lori spat out.
“Yes, well, at least I’m not you,” April replied.
Landon stepped forward a fire burning in the back of his gaze. “Say one more nasty word toward my mother, and I’ll make sure you pay for it.”
“Landon,” Lori said, her voice controlled as she put a hand in front of her son. “No.”
He growled slightly but took a step back at his mother’s request.
“I will leave, but at least let Landon pay his respects to his father,” Lori requested, keeping her calm a lot better than I would’ve if I were in her situation.
“Like I said before, no. Neither of you are welcome here. It’s Landon’s fault his father passed away anyway. He was the last one to speak to him and upset him to such an extreme.”
“Don’t ever put that kind of bullshit on my son. He was not the cause of what happened,” Lori barked, raising her voice to a level that made everyone around us look our way. It was now time for her eyes to blaze with anger. “I will rip your poor excuse for extensions out of your head if you ever say such a thing again.”
“It’s true.” April pursed her lips. “Like Ralph always said, you two are toxic, and he wouldn’t want you anywhere near him today. So, leave.”
There were a few seconds of pause as Lori and April stood nose to nose, breathing heavily. Landon finally reached for his mother’s arm and gently tugged. “It’s fine, Mom. Let’s go. She’s right—he wouldn’t want me here. To be honest, I don’t want to be here either.”
My chest ached for Landon because I knew that wasn’t true. I knew how much he cared for the man who hadn’t loved him back the way he deserved. I knew how much he was hurting after his father’s passing, especially since their last conversation hadn’t been a good one. I was sure he wanted a chance to say better words to his father, a chance to give his truths, but he wasn’t going to be able to do so.
Life wasn’t fair for a lot of people in this world, but I was certain it was even less fair for Landon Harrison.
He had been doing so good, talking about a future—a future with me, a future for us—but I saw the heaviness in his eyes over the passing days. I saw the way he was holding so much inside and not saying a word. I saw his hurts even though he didn’t unleash them. He kept them locked up tight.
He hasn’t even cried, I thought to myself as we walked back to the car to leave.
That was the scariest part to me—the fact that Landon hadn’t shown any kind of emotion about his father’s death. He hadn’t fallen apart. He hadn’t let any feelings out, and that terrified me. If he wasn’t letting it out, he was keeping it all in.
And no good ever came from Landon and his heavy, heavy thoughts.
“I’m going to stay at the hotel with my mom tonight,” Landon told me after we grabbed dinner together that night. He hardly ate any of his food, the same way he’d barely touched his meals on the previous days. I worried about him not eating enough, but there wasn’t much I could do. Mima had even brought a few dishes for him to dig into, but he hadn’t touched those either.
That was a clear sign that things were off. Landon passed up a meal from Mima.
His statement was so straightforward and cold.
“Oh? It’s your last night, right? You fly out early?” I asked, trying not to sound too heartbroken about it all.
“Yup.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer? I can take care of you. Just imagine…” I smiled, walking over to him and placing my hands on his shoulders. “Breakfast in bed, massages, cuddles whenever you need them, and even when you don’t.”
I worked my fingers into his shoulder blades, and he gave me a tired, forced smile. “I wish, but I have to get back to work. My manager is already chewing my ass out for a few last-minute changes we had to make.”
Disappointment swirled inside me, but I tried my best not to express it. He was going through a lot. He didn’t need to feel guilty about me missing him.
“Okay, that’s fine.”
He gave me another smile, this one with a dash of a little more heart. “I wish I could stay tonight, but after today, I think my mom could really use me.”
“I get it, I do. She needs you, and you need her. Go ahead.”
He pulled me in for an embrace, and I held on to him so tight. “Thank you for everything, Shay. You always go above and beyond.”
I rested my head against his chest. “How’s your heart?”
He didn’t reply, just leaned in and kissed me on my forehead. “I should really get going. Don’t worry about me, though.”
“You know I will.”
“Try not to.” He pulled back and leaned down, kissing my lips ever so gently. “I love you times two.”
“I love you times two,” I echoed, my lips lingering against his. “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let your mind wander too far from me. I’m here when you need me. Always.”
When we said our goodbyes and he climbed into his car to drive away, unease hit me as I watched him round the corner. He was gone with a dazed mind and a heavy heart, and I didn’t have a clue when he would find his way back to me. The other day, we had been talking about our future
and closing the gap between us, yet now I felt as if that gap was widening once more.
It broke my heart thinking Landon was moving so far away from me, both in distance and in heart.
7
Landon
Dr. Smith didn’t put her feet up on the desk when I walked into her office that day. She didn’t toss around a stress ball or smile her goofy smile. She didn’t ask me for three good things that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, and I was thankful for that.
I didn’t have anything to give her.
She sat there, staring at me as if trying to get into my head to see how much damage had been done by losing my father. The answer was a lot.
So much damn damage that I’d wanted to pretend wasn’t there.
“Land—”
“Empty,” I cut her off.
“What?”
“That’s what I feel. I feel empty. I don’t know if my meds are working anymore because I don’t feel anything. I feel empty inside.”
She nodded. “A feeling of hopelessness is common after a death takes place.”
“No. That’s not what I said. I said I’m feeling empty, not hopeless.”
“Yes, I know, but sometimes those two things can look so much alike that you might confuse the sentiments.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m confusing!” I snapped, my hands gripping the armrests. I shut my eyes, feeling instant regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“No, that’s good. Snapping is good. You know why? Because if you snap, that means you can’t feel empty. I think what you’re feeling is the opposite of emptiness, Landon. I think you’re feeling too much. I think you’re feeling everything under the sun right now, and you are not being able to process everything being thrown your way right this second. You’re in overload mode, which makes you feel like you can’t do anything at all.”
“How do I fix it?” I whispered through gritted teeth. “How do I fix me?”
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “By realizing you’re not broken—you’re grieving.”
I let those words settle in and shifted in my seat.
Was I doing that? Was I grieving for a man who hadn’t even wanted me when he was alive?
No. Fuck him.
Fuck him for not wanting me, and fuck him for not caring, and fuck him for dying.
“It’s the meds,” I commented, clasping my fingers together.
“The medicine you’re on is fine.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should try something else,” I grumbled, scratching at my neck.
“It’s not the medicine,” Dr. Smith stated once more.
“How do you know? You’re not in my body.”
“Before what happened with your father, how did you feel, Landon?”
I thought back to the days before my father’s heart attack. I thought about Shay and her smile, us laughing, kissing, making love. I thought about how good it felt being with her, how easy it felt. I thought about the acting opportunities I’d been given, how my dreams were coming true—how I had fucking dreams. Me. I had dreams. In the past I’d only lived in nightmares.
For the past few weeks, I’d felt nothing but alive.
I lowered my head and stared at the carpeted floor. “This is grief?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. This is grief.”
Dammit.
I ‘d been hoping I could take a drug to fix this ache inside me.
Who knew how long it would take to fucking pass? I didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with grief. So, I put it on hold, and I pushed it as far to the side as possible. I’d bury myself in my work and the characters I was scheduled to play.
At least that way I could be someone else for a while, someone other than me.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Keep our meetings going. My schedule with work is getting pretty busy, and I don’t really have the time to commit to therapy anymore.”
“What? Landon, no.” For the first time ever, Dr. Smith appeared worried. “Now more than ever is the time to stick with this commitment. I see what’s happening. I can tell that you feel as if your world is crumbling around you, but it’s not. You’ve made so much progress. Let’s not step backward. Let’s keep unpacking these boxes.”
My mind pulled up one of the last comments Dad made toward me.
You can always count on that son of mine to crumple and leave you with his mess.
I didn’t want him to be right. I didn’t want to crumple and leave people with my messes. I didn’t want to be the weak asshole that Dad claimed me to be. I didn’t want to be like Uncle Lance.
Lately, I couldn’t breathe, and I knew that meant I was seconds away from spiraling again. Down, down, down, back to the darkness. But I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t have time for grief or another run-of-the-mill bout of depression, and I knew if I kept unboxing shit with Dr. Smith, I’d fall even deeper into the feelings I wanted to keep locked away.
I didn’t want to relive my trauma. I wanted to be better.
I thought I was getting better.
“This is for the best, Doc. Thank you for all you’ve done,” I said, standing up from my chair to leave the room.
“Landon, wait. Please,” she begged, standing to her feet.
I turned to look at her and arched an eyebrow.
She sighed, and her eyes flashed with emotion. “You’re a good person who deserves a happy ending. Don’t give up on that. Don’t lose this fight. If you push me away, confide in someone. Find someone to keep that door open with. Because it’s easy to close yourself off from the world and make it seem like you’re alone, but you’re not. Even on the days that feel so dark, there’s always someone reaching out with an open hand.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“And as always”—she gave me a broken smile—“my door’s always open.”
After leaving Dr. Smith’s office, I put on my mask, and I made the mistake of leaving it on for too long. It became a part of me. Fake smiles, fake laughs, fake everything to hide the hurting that was going on inside me. Luckily for me, I was an actor in Hollywood—the world of being fake. I’d fit right in, and nobody would blink an eye thinking I was off. As far as they were concerned, I was Landon Pace—the happy-go-lucky actor, but I knew the mask wouldn’t last forever because no matter what, the masks always cracked.
And when it began to crack for me, it shattered into a million pieces.
August 1st, 2005
Satan,
Hey, just thought I would get us back to our norm by sending you a letter even though I text you every single day. Tracey is back for our junior year from studying abroad, and it feels like there’s a bit of a disconnect between us. It might all be in my head, but I feel like everything I say, she snaps at me or disagrees with me. It isn’t even big things, really. The other day, she hollered at me because I drank the last of the milk in the carton and hadn’t had a chance to replace it. It’s the little things that drive me nuts the most.
For example, if I say I love a sweater, she’ll tell me all the reasons it’s wrong for me. “It will make your shoulders look bulky. The color will clash with your skin.” Always the negative.
Raine said things have always been like that between Tracey and me. I guess I never really noticed until she was gone and then moved back in with us. Mom said people change with age, and perhaps Tracey and I are just growing in different directions.
Just to be clear, I rocked that sweater, bulky shoulders and all.
How are you? How is Sarah Sims?! Did you tell her I love her? Did you ask for an autograph? Did you ask her to marry me? Please say yes to all the above.
Were you still thinking about me coming to visit you? I can text you my availability. Weekend getaways are always nice, too.
I miss you, Landon.
I can’t wait until we’re in the same time zone again.
-Chick
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: September 1st, 2005, 4:23 PM
SUBJECT: How’s your heart?
Satan,
Hey, you. I sent you the notebook about a month ago and realized you might not even be home to receive it. I forgot that your work schedule is so insane. I’m not sure when you’ll actually get back home to check your mail.
In the notebook, I pretty much just gave you an update on life. From my point of view, it’s not too exciting. I mainly wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing after losing your father. I hope you’re taking care of yourself. You can reach out to me at any time. Day or night.
Anyway, this will be a short and sweet letter. Pretend I’m sending you Tootsie Rolls.
Because they are short and sweet.
-Chick
P.S. How’s your heart?
P.P.S. I know it’s silly, and I’m sure you’re okay, but if you’re not, please reach out. I love you and am beginning to worry.
Shay: Hey, Landon. I just thought I’d text to see if you’re okay. It’s been a week since I emailed you, so I figured I’d shoot you a text message. Is everything okay?
Shay: Hey you. It’s been over six weeks since I’ve heard from you. Please respond. I’m freaking out.
Shay: Six weeks and four days. Where are you? I don’t know how to get in contact.
Shay: Two months. I feel like you’re closing off on me, Landon, and that scares me. We were doing so good for so long. I know you’re still struggling after what happened to your father, but please know that you can talk to me. You can open up to me, just as you’ve always been able to do in the past. I’m always here for you. Even if not in a romantic fashion, as a friend. You’re my best friend, Landon, and to think about you hurting on your own makes my chest ache.
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