Page 60 of Lost Lyrebird
When I rip open the door, I find Larsen and Bodie.Kyle Larsen is the only other surviving member of our team.He’s standing there in a blue T-shirt and black shorts.My gaze immediately drops to his prosthetic leg.
He shrugs.“It may not win me a modeling contest, but it works, and that’s all I need.”
The words burst out of me, because fuck he’s a welcome sight.“Holy shit, man, it’s been a minute.It’s good to see you.”
Before I know it, we’re hugging, slapping each other on the back, like no time has passed.
“Two legs and all,” Larsen laughs.
“Does your dick count as the other half, or are we counting the prosthetic?”Bodie, holding the screen door open, walks in behind Larsen.He’s attempting to flash that grin of his, but his eyes tell a different story altogether.They hold a quiet worry beneath the surface, as if he wasn’t sure I’d be open to their visit.
I mean, for a moment there, it crossed my mind, but seeing them together… it takes me back.Makes me see how far we’ve come.Makes me see Bodie as Rivers again, the guy who pulled me through so much shit, who never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.
Larsen looks good.Healthy.The last time I saw him, he’d been just as much of a mess as me, fighting through physical therapy and hating life.But now?He’s that same golden, cheerful force that had been the gravity of our team.
We’d spent the entire night drinking beers and telling old stories.The memories had us either cracking up or choking up.When they left, I hugged Larsen and promised to call more often.Then Bodie stepped toward me, and I gave him a man-hug, too.It lasted longer than it needed to, and in those few seconds, I realized something.
I realized what I’d put him through during those past few months.When we pulled back, I really fucking looked at him, and I knew—if he didn’t have me, who would he have?
No one.
His family life was shit.His wife—fuck, I hate calling women bitches, but she was.She beat him down with words, twisted his insecurities into chains.His kids loved him fiercely, and that’s why he stayed.But being married to Blaire was killing him.Slowly, piece by piece, it turned the man with the heart of pure gold into something dull, extinguishing the flame that made him shine.
I stub out the joint, watching the last smoke curl and fade into the air.The ache in my head hasn’t gone, but it’s duller.Dark thoughts swirl, telling me that no one but him would miss me.That he’d get over losing me eventually.That I’m a burden.They also whisper the promise of oblivion if I just let go and give in to temptation.
I pull my phone from the bedside table.My thumb hovers over Bodie’s contact.The seconds feel like hours as I battle the need riding me.In the end, I search for Larsen’s number.I’m not sure why, but maybe because he’s also been through hell and back—lost a leg, finished rehab, downed the pills, and came out the other side still shining.I press the call button, unsure what to say, but knowing I’m losing the war inside my mind again.
Maybe I won’t say anything.Maybe just hearing his voice will be enough.
The phone rings once, twice, and then his voice comes through, groggy but familiar.“Finn?”
I swallow hard, my throat tight.For a second, I consider hanging up.
I don’t.I can’t.
“Yeah.It’s me.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I hear him shuffle, probably sitting up in bed.“You good?”
I close my eyes, the weight in my chest easing for a brief moment, only for it to come crashing back down, heavier.“No, man,” I rasp, my throat tight with the truth I’ve been trying to ignore.“I’m not good.I’m losing the battle here, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting through this.”
Silence stretches between us, and for a second, I wonder if he can hear the crack in my voice—the sound of a man standing at the edge, staring into the abyss.
“Every day’s a fucking war,” I say.“The pain, the need for the pills, all of it.I’m fucking losing my mind here.”
I hear Larsen breathe out on the other end, the sound heavy, like he’s been here before and gets it.“You’re the strongest and smartest man I know.Doesn’t mean you need to fight this alone, though.You hear me?”
“Yeah, man.But fuck, it’s hard.”
“I know it is.I know, man.”
I swallow hard, my hand trembling as I rub my face.“Tell me how you made it out.How you kept going and came out the other side.”
The words hang there, raw and jagged, like a confession of how far I’ve fallen from the man he used to know.
“You just… keep waking up, keep getting up, and find the shit that lights you up.Gotta take a step forward and another until it’s not so hard anymore.Let the shadows go.That’s part of it too.”
I’m silent as his words roll around in my head.
