by Wade, Ellie
“Huh,” I say for lack of anything better.
“Yeah.” Sarah chuckles. “It’s fine. So, anyway, it’s a boy, and he’s due in August. I’m a little over six months along now.”
“Wow, you’re going to be a mom.” Though I’ve been in the presence of her belly for a few minutes now, it’s still surreal to think about.
“I know. It’s insane. I still can’t believe it. It’s like I won’t truly be able to grasp it until I’m holding him in my arms. I’m hoping that I can stay once the baby’s born?”
“Of course. You know you’re always welcome here. I was just a little shocked to see you earlier, is all.”
“Great!” She claps her hands together. “I think it’s going to be wonderful with the three of us living here. We’ll be like a family.”
“Yeah.” I nod. A mere ten minutes ago, I was living alone, and now, I’ve got a family. I’m not sure how to feel about it all just yet, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I would never turn Sarah away. “I suppose it’ll be cool, being Uncle Loïc.” Yet, even as I say it, the thought of being responsible for another life sends a wave of panic through me so fierce that I can barely breathe.
There’s a knock at the door, and Sarah jumps up to go get the pizza.
“It’s going to be awesome!” she calls back over her shoulder.
Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing and try to calm my anxiety, so I won’t go into a full-blown panic attack. When Sarah returns with the food, I manage to smile at her through the ache in my chest.
“So, I was thinking that I’d take Maggie and Cooper’s room, and the baby can have the spare room since it’s the smallest. Is that okay?” she asks as she dishes up our plates.
“It’s fine.”
Truthfully, I don’t like the idea of Sarah staying in Cooper’s old room, but it’s not like I’m going to go in there. It doesn’t make sense to leave it empty when there’s a need for it. Yet it just hurts to think about.
“This is so great, Loïc. Everything’s going to be wonderful. It’s like we were always meant to be a family, you know?”
No, I don’t know. But I don’t know much of anything right now.
Loïc
“London’s gone. That thought is as equally depressing as it is satisfying, but truthfully, all I can feel is relief.”
—Loïc Berkeley
Look at me. I’ve been lying on this couch for five, maybe six hours. Is this what my life has come to? Jeopardy! plays on the TV before me, but I haven’t listened to a word of it. I’ll take Life of a Disabled Veteran for $300, Alex.
Not even the sight of Alex Trebek, who will always remind me of sweet Mrs. Peters, brings a sliver of joy to my current situation. Mrs. Peters was a kind old lady who made the best cookies. I stayed with her for a brief time when I was a teen. She was the best placement I had growing up, and what I remember most about her—besides her cookies—was her love for Alex Trebek.
Yet the warm nostalgic feelings toward Mrs. Peters aren’t returning.
I’ve been back a week, and my life has been nothing but a black hole of emptiness, even with Sarah frolicking around in a constant state of happiness.
Sarah has been gone for the afternoon, looking for jobs. It’s nice to have the place to myself for a while. I love Sarah, I do, but having her here is exhausting. She constantly wants to talk, and if I don’t respond with something, she starts getting worried and suggests we go see my doctor at the VA hospital.
No, thank you.
I had two months of therapy, and it was sufficient to last a lifetime. I’m just in a funk. It will pass. Of course I’m going to have an adjustment period as I transition to my new normal. I’ll be fine.
There’s a knock on the front door. I ignore it. Sarah has a key, so I know it’s not her, and I don’t want to talk to anyone else. Another knock sounds, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock.
“Loïc?” Maggie’s timid voice resonates from the foyer.
It brings a deep ache to my chest. I will never be able to see or hear Maggie without thinking of Cooper.
I draw in a deep breath, attempting to steady my voice. “In here.”
Maggie walks into the living room. The second she sees me, tears begin to fall from her face, and she runs over to me. I sit up just as she wraps me in a hug. Holding me tight, she cries into my shoulder.
I hug her, rubbing her back, as she continues to sob.
“It’s okay,” I say even though I’m not exactly sure what that means. It sounds like the right thing to say to someone who’s grieving. Yet I know that what Maggie’s feeling is so much more than grief. And the fact is, I’m not sure anything is okay. Life is kind of messed up right now.
“I didn’t know you were back. How long have you been here?” she chokes out as she pulls away from our embrace.
“Almost a week,” I answer guiltily, knowing I should have called her. I was a coward.
“I had no idea. I stop by every once in a while to check on the house and get any random mail. I can’t believe you’re here.” She pulls her hands across her face, wiping the tears.
“I’m sorry. I should have called you. I’ve been having a difficult time with adjusting, I guess.”
“Are you okay?” Maggie asks, concerned, as she begins to scan my body. “Oh my gosh.” Her voice is high-pitched as the palm of her hand runs over the scars on my arms. She gently grasps the metal hinge that is now my new knee as her chest heaves with fresh tears.
“I’m fine, Mags. I promise.” I put my hand atop hers. “I’m okay. Please don’t cry for me.”
She lifts her woeful gaze up to mine. “I’m so sorry, Loïc. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry you lost David.” Her voice breaks as she says Cooper’s first name.
“I know. Me, too. I’m so sorry you lost him, Maggie. I would do anything to change it if I could.”
Maggie sits up next to me on the couch. I wrap my arm around her, and she leans her face against my chest. I hold her as she cries, and we mourn him together.
“Were you there when it happened? Is that how you got hurt?”
“Yeah.” I nod, trying to block out the visions of Cooper’s last few seconds on earth. “I was there.”
“I know you’re probably not ready to talk about it, and honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to hear it. But, someday, will you tell me about his time over there—his last day, his last moments?”
“Someday…” My voice trails off. “Just know that he died a hero, Maggie, and that he loved you. He loved you more than anything.”
“I know he did,” she says sadly. “It’s so unfair, you know?”
“It is,” I agree. “It is.”
The two of us hold each other within this space that contains years of memories, countless ghosts of Cooper’s past, of our past. It’s sobering. We’re two completely shattered people, Maggie and me. My chest aches for her grief as much as it does for my own, more so honestly. She deserves better than this. So did Cooper.
Maggie and I continue to sit in our embrace. Many minutes pass. The only sounds that echo through the room are Maggie’s tears and our collective breaths of sorrow.
Maggie’s the first to speak again, “Have you seen London?”
“No,” I answer simply.
She sits up to face me. “Why not?”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head. When I open my eyes to find Maggie’s stare, I hope she can see the reasons in my gaze because I don’t have the words to explain them.
“I just can’t.”
“She loves you, Loïc.”
“I know, but I just can’t right now.” I let out a sigh.
“You can’t shut out the people who love you, Loïc. She can help you through this transition. She’s going crazy, not knowing if you’re okay. You owe her some sort of explanation.”
“I know,” I say softly. I know it’s true, but I’m not strong enough to confront London right now.
“If you talk with her, maybe see he
r, you’ll see. All the feelings and reasons you two were together will come back. I know it’s hard, adjusting back into civilian life, but I don’t think it’s going to be as difficult as you think. Sometimes, we psych ourselves up for something that we fear, but when we face it, we realize that the reality isn’t as hard as we thought it would be. You know?” she asks hopefully.
“Okay.” I nod because I don’t want to upset Maggie.
“Oh, gosh, I have to go,” Maggie says suddenly as she looks down at her watch. “I’m working tonight. I’ve been picking up a lot of overtime lately. Gives me something to keep my mind busy.” She shrugs. “I love you, and I will call you soon. You let me know if you need anything. Call me day or night. Promise?”
“I promise. I love you, too.”
She stands from the couch and then turns around to face me. Bending, she plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’m so glad you made it home, Loïc. You’re going to be okay.”
She smiles weakly and then leaves.
I admit that I was dreading seeing Maggie—not because I don’t love her, but because I’ve felt so guilty that I came home instead of Cooper. For some reason, I thought she would resent me for it. Who knows? Maybe she does. She’d never tell me if she did.
I realize that Jeopardy! has long been over, not that I was really watching it anyway. I turn the TV off and opt to stare at the blank screen instead. Too many thoughts are running through my brain for me to be able to concentrate on television anyway.
Minutes later, Sarah gets back, carrying loads of grocery bags.
“I’m back, and I got lots of groceries. We have several options for dinner,” she says excitedly. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Yours?”
“Oh, it was great! I applied to several restaurants and bars. I’m sure I’ll get a job at one of them.”
“Good.”
Sarah calls from the kitchen, “So, do you feel like pork chops and cheesy potatoes, hot dogs and beans, or ham sliders and chips? Man, I just realized that everything I bought is pork. This baby boy apparently wants pig. Hmm…I wonder if all this meat is going to make him a huge baby. You don’t think he’s going to be this giant baby just because I’m eating so much meat, do you? Ugh, that would suck. Let’s hope he comes out normal-sized. You know, I’ve never been a huge fan of meat, but man, do I crave it now. Actually, I think I’m going to go with the pork chops because they expire sooner. That makes the most sense, don’t you think?”
I don’t answer Sarah because her question is rhetorical. She holds one-sided conversations like this all day long. If I wasn’t in such a low place, I’d probably find them cute. But I just find it annoying. That’s not fair to her, I know. She’s just trying to help by filling the space with conversation. Though, to me, silence would be preferable.
Sarah continues to prattle on while I assume she starts making the pork chops when there’s another knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” she calls, walking through the living room and toward the front door.
She’s outside for a couple of minutes before she comes back in and walks over to the couch. “It’s London.”
I suck in a gulp of air at the sound of her name.
“I told her that you didn’t want to see her, but she’s insisting on seeing you,” Sarah informs me.
Shit.
“I can’t.” I slowly shake my head, my mouth agape.
“No problem. I’ll take care of it,” Sarah says cheerfully. She walks back toward the front foyer.
God, I’m such an asshole. A complete jerk.
I’m not quite sure what it is that I’m so afraid of when it comes to London, but I have this powerful feeling that I would crumble if I saw her.
London and I can never work. I’m broken, nowhere near the man that a girl like London wants. I’m mentally not capable of being a boyfriend to anyone at the moment.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a part of me, deep down, thinks she would take one look at my tattered body and run. I tell myself that it wouldn’t matter if she did. She’d be doing me a favor.
Yet a bigger part thinks she wouldn’t care and would love me anyway.
Oddly, that’s the scariest part.
I know I would disappoint her, and I wouldn’t be able to stand another failure.
I know that the right thing to do is to break up with her face-to-face. But I’m not prepared for the full-blown devastation that would hit my heart if I saw London again. I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m hanging on by a thread. A London sighting would snap the thin fiber holding me together, and I would crumble. There’s only so far one can fall before they can never get up again.
Yeah, I’m a coward. An asshole. A jerk. A deplorable human being.
But I’m here, and I’m alive. For now, that’s going to have to be enough.
My thoughts are silenced by Sarah’s return.
She stands above me. “Well, she’s gone, and I think she got the picture.”
“You weren’t mean to her, were you?”
Sarah looks appalled. “No, of course not.”
“Okay, good.” I exhale a shaky sigh of relief. Along with the air from my lungs, some of the tension escapes me.
“Great. I’m going to go finish dinner,” Sarah says before walking around the couch to head back into the kitchen.
London’s gone.
That thought is as equally depressing as it is satisfying, but truthfully, all I can feel is relief.
London
“Love is everything. It’s the only thing.”
—London Wright
“You’re hurting me.”
Loïc’s words have been echoing through my mind since his pained voice uttered them over the phone two weeks ago.
How was I hurting him when all I wanted to do was love him, help him, and simply be there?
It doesn’t make sense. Any of it.
I’ve had to stop myself from driving to his place every day. It’s been so hard, too. Staying away from Loïc when he’s so close has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.
I crave him. Desire him. Need him. More than anything in my life.
My body vibrates with an unsettling urge to go to him, so much so that it’s physically painful.
Paige and I gave up sugar for a week a couple of years back. I can’t remember why exactly. We must have been on some new health kick. Anyway, all I remember is how hard it was to kick sugar. I never realized that sugar is an addiction. When a body is used to having it and it doesn’t get it, you go through withdrawal symptoms, as if you were coming off a drug. I recall, on day three of our sugar detox, we literally opened all the candy in the house, threw it in the garbage, and dumped a can of condensed cream of chicken soup on the pile of sweet goodness, so we wouldn’t be tempted to dig it out of the garbage and eat it later. That’s how bad it was.
Detoxing from Loïc feels the same way but ten times worse. So, I’ve completely disregarded my hygiene. I only shower when my hair becomes so oily that my scalp itches or my stink becomes too great, whichever one comes first. I’m a mess, ensuring that I won’t succumb to a moment of weakness and drive to Loïc’s to beg him to come back to me. Let’s face it; if I had any chance of getting him back, it wouldn’t be as this pile of grease.
Yet, the thing is, I don’t have a chance of getting Loïc back. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want us. I can’t for the life of me figure out why, but he doesn’t.
I suppose that’s what’s making this all so difficult—I can’t understand it. A voice in my head tells me there’s something more…something I’m missing. Yes, Loïc went through a traumatic experience. Yes, he’s heartbroken over Cooper. But shouldn’t he need me more because of those things? Wouldn’t our love make all that better?
Who knows? Maybe this is what it feels like to be the one who has been broken up with. I’ve never been in this position before.
But I don’t believe that either. What Loïc and I had was real,
and nothing can convince me otherwise. I thought I was going to marry him. We were going to have beautiful babies, raise our family, laugh, love, and be happy. We were going to grow old together, our love never wavering.
But that dream’s gone.
When he begged me to let him go, I had to.
Every fiber in my being tells me that it’s the wrong thing to do, but I love and respect Loïc too much to cause him pain.
Apparently, I’m not the one for him, and though I don’t understand it, I have to respect it.
It’s just so hard.
How long will this last?
How long will I have to feel this way? Empty, sad…devastated.
I stare at the blank white page on my laptop as the small vertical line blinks back at me, taunting me, a constant reminder of my failures.
I’m going to lose my job if I miss another deadline, but the words won’t come. I’ve been staring at this screen all day, but all I see is Loïc. And all I feel is heartache.
I’m failing at life.
“Ugh!” I let out a groan of annoyance as I lean my head against the back of the chair and stare up at the ceiling.
“That bad?” Paige questions from my bedroom doorway.
I didn’t hear her come home from work.
“It’s worse,” I sigh.
“Is it worse than your hair? I’m pretty sure, if we wring the grease out of that mop, we could fry up some chicken.”
“Ew, that’s gross, Paige.”
“So is your hair, my love. So is your hair.”
“I know. It’s starting to really itch.” I make a face, scrunching up my nose, to which Paige starts laughing.
“London, please go shower. It’s time.” Paige swipes her hand through the air, gesturing toward my bathroom.
“Fine. I can barely stand my own filth. But you can’t let me go over to Loïc’s tonight. Promise?”
“Promise.” Paige makes a cross over her heart.
Sitting across the booth from Paige at our favorite Mexican restaurant, I’m freshly showered with a mango margarita in my hand, and I feel almost human again. It helps that the margarita glass is larger than my head.
