The Days Without You: A Story of Love, Loss, and Grief

by Skylar Wilson

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, her fingers still toying with the pendant.

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then no,” he said. Truthfully, he was. He hadn’t eaten since lunch; his stomach twisted, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother Kylie. “Is she in her room?”

  Kylie nodded. “Cat’s with her right now.”

  “Cat’s here?”

  “Well, when you didn’t answer, I called her,” she said simply, a hint of accusation hiding between her words. Reaching for his hand, she led him down the narrow, wallpapered hallway to the master bedroom.

  Sarah lay unpeacefully with her eyes closed, covered to her chest with several blankets. Her cheeks had sunken, her lips dried and cracked. Her breath was a slow death rattle. A bedside commode sat in the corner, two chairs beside the bed, one occupied by Cat. A heavy shroud hung about the room, the air dense with anticipation and dread.

  Kylie sat in the empty chair beside Cat, who sat motionlessly holding Sarah’s hand. Adam stood awkwardly in the background, out of place. This wasn’t his loss, wasn’t his grief, but he was all too familiar with the tension that surrounded them. He watched, staring blankly, as Sarah’s chest rose and fell erratically, some breaths with long pauses between them.

  Elliott came to mind; his breath had been the same just hours before his death—shallow and uneven. His mother refused to move from his bedside, terrified to leave his side for even a moment lest she miss his last breath. Like now, Adam remained in the corner, numb, barely able to process the scene before him.

  Sarah stirred, her head turning on the pillow, her eyes remaining closed. Kylie sat up, her hand grasping her mother’s even more tightly.

  “Mama?”

  “Pea,” whispered Sarah, “Colton. Get Colton for me.”

  “Mama…there’s no Colton here.”

  A labored, rattling inhale. “S-sorry…”

  Adam slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall. What could he do other than stand in the background in awkward silence? He wanted to run away, far, far away. Cat glanced at him, then at Kylie.

  “Kylie, what does she mean?”

  But Kylie never responded to Cat. Her eyes were fixed on her mother, whose strained breath grew silent, her body still, her chest failing to rise or fall. Kylie’s breath came in a rush, her shoulders easing down from her ears, the tension releasing from her body, yet her eyes grew glassy.

  “Mama…”

  Mama...

  “Mama…”

  Kylie’s breath came in a rush, and the color drained from her face. Her breath hitched in her chest. Silence filled the room in all its devastating finality. The moon, already high in the night sky, shined through the thin curtains, casting a soft, sad glow upon the room and dimming the light from the table lamp.

  She was gone. No breath escaped her lips. Kylie’s hand still clutched her mother’s, which still felt warm beneath her palm. Despite her wet eyes, tears had stopped escaping to travel down her cheeks. Or was she crying? The numbness of shock and relief and detachment, like this was all a dream, had taken over. It had happened. The moment she had been both dreading and waiting for.

  Cat placed a hand on her shoulder, and her voice sounded thick, “Kylie.”

  “Don’t.” Kylie shrugged away from the gesture. “Please…just don’t.” Air hitched in her chest again, her breathing erratic until, finally, she completely broke down, crumpling onto the edge of the bed. The sheets smelled dirty and unwashed. “I just…I can’t,” she choked out.

  “Do you want a minute?” murmured Cat.

  “Please.”

  A few moments later, the door creaked open and latched closed. With the walls of the house so thin, and despite not wanting to listen to them in the hallway, she overheard the muffled voices of Cat and Adam. Cat cried for a few moments before speaking.

  “I don’t know if she’ll be okay again. She didn’t deal with her dad’s death well.”

  “Oh.”

  A pause, then the nurse’s voice murmuring something, then Cat. “Yes…she passed.”

  Kylie slid to the floor, drawing her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them while staring blankly at the wall. She focused on their voices now rather than the growing numbness in her chest.

  “—Seemed like he’d just gotten his promotion when he got shot during a case. I remember the day she got called out of class.” A sniffle. “I can’t believe…I mean…it’s like just yesterday she was diagnosed. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  A moment of quiet, then Adam spoke, “Did you know Sarah for long?”

  “Since kindergarten.”

  Finally, Kylie pushed herself to her feet. Overhearing them made her want to vomit. Her legs felt detached, as if they belonged to someone else or she were floating instead of walking as she stepped to the door and out into the hallway. The young nurse brushed past her into the bedroom.

  Adam’s hand fell from peeling a corner of the wallpaper, and he stood straight, opening his arms to hug her, but Cat jumped up and threw her arms around Kylie’s neck first.

  “I’m so sorry, Kylie,” she cried into her shoulder.

  Yet it was Kylie who soothed Cat, rubbing her back in a soothing, rhythmic fashion. Every motion, however, felt robotic and lifeless; the fabric of Cat’s shirt under her fingertips felt like nothing. She glanced up at Adam, who offered a sad smile.

  “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” he asked.

  Cat opened her mouth to speak, but Kylie interrupted.

  “No.” She studied the worn pattern of footprints on the carpet. She wanted to be alone, to unleash every horrid emotion in solitude. “You can go. Both of you. But thank you for asking.” The words came flat.

  “You sure?” Cat protested, her brow arched, eyes rimmed with red.

  Several long seconds passed before Kylie realized it was her turn to speak. “Yeah. The nurse is here, anyway.” She glanced at Adam, studying him for a moment before kissing his cheek, then turned to hug Cat again, still moving robotically. “Thank you for being here, but I just want to be alone.”

  The sun seemed deceitful as it shined through the living room window, as if it wanted to convince Kylie that its rays righted all that was wrong in the world. They didn’t, though. Nothing could fix what the universe, what God had done to her only remaining family member. At least she’s gone to a better place now. At least she’s not suffering anymore. This had become her mantra, a weak attempt to convince herself that it would be all right, but she was drowning in a sea of grief, wandering aimlessly through the minutes and hours and what felt would be the rest of eternity. Mama had been her stronghold; now she had nothing to grasp.

  Listless, she stared down into her murky cup of tea. Three days had passed since her death, and Kylie had yet to shower or change her clothes, not even when the coroner came to make the official pronouncement of death, or when people from the funeral home came to transport her body for cremation. Besides contact with the hospice team to coordinate with the funeral director, she’d had only one other correspondence—one phone call to Amanda to inform her of bereavement time and that she’d return in a little over a week. Otherwise, she refused to answer for anyone. No phone calls. No email. No text messages. To talk to people meant to hear their pity and sympathy, things she did not want.

  A small memorial service was to be held in two more days at the local church her mother had attended sporadically, usually on holidays. Kylie was to give a eulogy, something she had yet to have the energy to give much thought. Attempting to even think about it made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Cat had called several times, enough to make Kylie aware she was worried. The fact that Adam had only called once weighed heavily on her mind. Had seeing her mother’s last breath been too much for him? Had it brought back too many painful memories? Maybe it was a good time to call him. Maybe he was at work. Would he even answer? Would she feel disappointed or numb
if he didn’t? Maybe talking to him would help; he could certainly empathize with her. Perhaps he’d have a bit of advice for the eulogy. Or, perhaps, she didn’t have the heart to give the eulogy at all.

  She took a long sip of lukewarm tea that had been sitting on the coffee table for nearly an hour. Had it been like this for Adam when his brother died? This painful? The pain of her father’s death had certainly affected her—months of therapy and a year of medication. At the moment, she both wanted someone to be here with her and wanted to simply waste away. The urge to call Adam floated through her mind again, but she lacked the will or the energy to walk down the wallpapered hallway to retrieve her phone from the kitchen table. Just as the urge faded, a fresh wave of tears overcame her.

  Finally, another day off from the restaurant. Adam had spent it worrying about Kylie, as he had yet to hear from her. He wanted desperately to call, but he also didn’t want to crowd her. Would she shut him out like her mother had feared? He hoped not.

  Over the last few days, memories of his parents had come flooding back to him. After Elliott’s death, his father let himself go, finding reprieve from his grief in bars and other women, while his mother locked herself away.

  Adam decided, nodding to himself, that if he did not hear from Kylie by this evening, he would try calling her again.

  The day passed lazily, and the late afternoon found Adam and Shawn on the sofa with video game controllers in hand, eyes glued to the television.

  “What’s going on with all these girls you’ve been seeing?” asked Adam.

  Shawn shrugged, pausing to take a swig from his can of beer. “They get boring, ya know?”

  “No.”

  “They all want the same thing. They wanna get to know you better and get all serious. I don’t want that. I like my freedom. Where’s the fun in being tied down by somebody?”

  It was Adam’s turn to shrug, but Kylie came to mind. A life with her seemed…desirable. Not hard to imagine, he mused. The thought made the tiniest of smiles twitch on his lips. Sure, he hadn’t known her very long, but something about… No, he had better stop himself there. It was too early. He’d barely known her for a few months. Wiping the smile from his face, he shook his head and drank his beer. It was wrong to think about that sort of thing so soon.

  A soft knock sounded at the door, and Shawn paused their game.

  “I got it,” muttered Adam as he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room to the door to open it. “Kylie,” he said, surprised.

  “Hi,” she mumbled.

  Her eyes remained on the ground, but Adam leaned down to hug her. She hardly reciprocated, her hands light on his sides. Her hair was matted, her face pale without makeup. Taking her by the hand, Adam helped her over the uneven threshold and closed the door behind them. Looking more closely at her, he noted that her face was incredibly pale and would still be so with makeup.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, one brow raised.

  Kylie didn’t meet his gaze. “Yesterday.”

  With a grimace, he took her hand again and led her into the kitchen. “Let me make you something.”

  Shawn gave a slight wave as they crossed the living room, the floorboards creaking under their feet. Kylie seated herself at the tiny wooden table that occupied most of the faded yellow room. Adam rummaged through the ancient, humming refrigerator.

  “I hope you like eggs. That’s pretty much all I can make—and pretty much all I have, anyway.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not really hungry, anyway.”

  Ignoring her comment, he busied himself with heating the stove and whisking the cracked eggs with a fork. “I know it’s hard. I know you feel bad now,” he said while pouring the eggs into the pan. Maybe he was merely grasping at straws, he thought. “It gets better with time. Eventually the pain is an ugly scar. The service is tomorrow, right?”

  Kylie nodded. It was slight, her eyes trained on the table, hands folded in her lap.

  Yep, I’m definitely grasping at straws.

  “Are you going to give a…whatever they call it? Are you going to talk about your mom?”

  He eyed her for a moment, still waiting for the eggs to cook on the stove. Her hair hung about her face as she slowly nodded again. He turned to poke at the eggs. In a low voice, he continued.

  “When my brother died, my mom didn’t handle it at all. She let herself go. She just…” He paused, searching for the right words to describe his mother’s breakdown. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, recalling the feelings of shame and murmurs of pity. “She gave up. Stopped trying with everything except piano. Stopped eating. I lost count of how many sonatas and adagios she memorized.” His tone had grown harsh, and he stopped himself for a moment. Then, quietly, he added, “We had to hospitalize her after she tried to kill herself.”

  “I thought she lives in New York,” said Kylie, finally looking up at him.

  “She does.” He piled the eggs on a plate and set it in front of her before sitting down. “That’s one of the reasons my parents divorced. Well, that and my dad being a jackass. She wanted to move back there and chase her old life, playing Broadway shows and stuff. I think being here in Charleston reminded her too much of Elliott.”

  Kylie looked down at the plate of eggs, contemplating them before taking a small bite, chewing slowly.

  Adam watched her and smiled gently when she glanced up at him. “It’ll be okay. You don’t just have Cat, you have me now too. I’m not going anywhere. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to feel like you have no one to talk to.”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. Eating a few more small forkfuls, she took a deep, deliberate breath while studying him with wide eyes. “You’ll come to the service tomorrow, right? With me?”

  “If that’s what you want, of course I’ll come.” He offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

  Something about the way her lips parted said she wanted to speak more, but they closed. Adam almost blurted out to ask what it was but thought better of it. Best not to push in any way, he thought. Instead, he gave another smile.

  Adam squeezed himself into the only suit from the back of the closet. It didn’t fit well; the jacket sleeves were an inch too short, and it restricted his breathing if buttoned in the front, but it would have to do. While he dressed and brushed his teeth, he tried to think of what he could possibly say to calm Kylie’s nerves. Tell her to talk about the good things; don’t think about the sad stuff. His father had wanted him to speak at Elliott’s funeral, but Adam refused.

  Glancing in the mirror, he straightened his tie and combed his fingers through his hair before heading out.

  Feeling uneasy, he stepped up to the porch and tugged at his sleeves before ringing the doorbell. Just as when he’d gone to Kylie’s former apartment, her eyes looked glassy and puffy, her cheeks blotchy as she opened the door.

  “Come in for a minute,” she said in a near whisper.

  No sooner had he stepped over the threshold when he leaned down to wrap his arms around her. A moment passed before she seemed to register the embrace, and another before she broke down into tears.

  “Come on, sit down for a second.” He guided her out of the foyer and to the living room sofa, where Kylie sat and looked at him with eyes rimmed with smudged, runny makeup, and he took her hand. “I know it’s hard, but I’m here with you every step. We’ll take it little by little. Let’s just get through the service, then we can come back here and do whatever you want.”

  “I guess.”

  He paused to give her time to speak, but when she remained quiet, he sighed. Maybe she would shut down after all, but he had to try.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said with another sigh.

  Kylie nodded, mute.

  In his truck, they headed to the church, about fifteen minutes from the house. The interior of the church building was filled with hushed murmurs from the few dozen folks sitting in the rows of hard wooden pews. The air was warm, almost stifling
ly so, despite the slowly rotating fans. Adam wondered vaguely who these people were and how they had known Sarah as he and Kylie inched their way into the front pew.

  With his head down, Adam lost himself in thought, half-listening to the whispers and quiet chatter from behind. Kylie sat motionlessly, staring at the urn of ashes on the altar surrounded by vases of tulips. Nearly thirteen years had passed since he’d last stepped into a church. He found little reason to have faith in any type of deity—if a God did exist, his brother wouldn’t have been taken away so young.

  “Hey.”

  Cat inched past, sat down on Kylie’s other side, and took her hand. Kylie gave a small nod and a wary smile before staring at the altar once more.

  The quiet chatter came to an abrupt silence as the pastor stepped up to the pulpit. The elderly man had wisps of white hair and age spots speckling his skin. Briefly, he studied the congregation before speaking in a steady, calming voice.

  “Today, we celebrate the life of Sarah Lynn Lewis. She was a strong woman who has faced adversity in the eyes of God and now rests in peace with the Lord. Those around us, and especially those who knew Sarah, could not help but love her. She was warm, caring, and had a heart bigger than anyone I have had the honor to know. And, I must believe that when death crosses our path, it is God calling us home. Let us pray.”

  Kylie’s shoulders shook with silent sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. Adam rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, keeping his head bowed. Cat wiped away her own stream of tears as the pastor led the church in prayer. Next, a young woman rose from a few pews behind them, stepped up to the altar, and sang Amazing Grace—no accompaniment, no piano. Its eerie beauty echoed throughout. Chills shot down Adam’s spine, raising the hairs on his arm. A reading from the Bible followed, although Adam was unsure of the passage. Surely, his father would have been able to name it, he thought bitterly.

  The pastor ended the passage and announced the eulogy.