Page 72 of When He Saved Me
“What does it say?” I was scared to read it.
“I don’t know. It’s between you and him. I’m just the messenger.” I gingerly took the paper from him, eyeing it warily, barely noticing as he stood. He stuck his hand in my face, offering to help me off the floor, and I took it, unbending my frame and rising to stand facing him.
“You probably think I’m the world’s biggest asshole,” I said, but he only shook his head.
“I don’t. I think you did an asshole thing because you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean youarean asshole. You’re my best friend, and I love you. Nothing’s going to change that.”
I threw my arms around him, nearly knocking him off balance as I pulled him into a massive hug. “I love you too,” I said through another round of tears. “I’m sorry I was a dick when you got here.”
“Forgiven,” he said without hesitation, then a little softer, “I miss her too.”
Those simple words were like a balm to my battered soul. They saidI’m with youandI feel it tooandYou’re not alone.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
* * *
I spenta lot of time Saturday evening staring at the letter Asher had brought me. It had a water spot where one of my tears had landed. The wetness had caused the blue lines on the notebook paper to bleed ever so slightly, giving that spot a distorted look.
I wasn’t sure what the letter contained, but I found myself paralyzed with indecision, torn between wanting to absorb every word Finn had written for me yet terrified it would reveal that the damage I’d done to our relationship was permanent. Irrevocable.
Not yet ready to open myself up to whatever fate the letter had in store for me, I set it aside and moved on with the task of reorganizing my bedroom. The dresser drawers were much more cooperative this time as I completed my task more calmly before moving on to the organization of my closet. I put fresh linens on my bed and changed the towels in the en suite bathroom.
Once finished, I stood in the center of the room and forced myself to take a couple of cleansing breaths. While I’d made a hasty decision to clear out the room downstairs, it had been the right one. Being in here, in the room of my childhood, felt right.
I had always loved this room growing up. As far as I was concerned, it was the best room in the house. On one end of the room sat my queen-sized bed with a side table on either side. Above my bed hung posters of my favorite teenage idols: an enlarged copy of the Sports Illustrated cover featuring Michael Phelps adorned with a stack of medals from the 2016 Olympics, Salvador Perez, catcher for the Royals giving Lorenzo Cain a ‘Salvy Splash’ after one of the games in the run-up to the 2015 World Series, and for the book nerd in me, a banned book poster that read “I’m With The Banned” and included covers of works like 1984, Fahrenheit 451, and To Kill A Mockingbird.
On the opposite end of my room was a sitting area, which held my dresser, a bookshelf filled to the brim with my childhood and teenage favorites, and an oversized bean bag chair badly in need of new filling. It hadn’t been used in at least five years.
My favorite feature of the room was the padded bench which ran the length of the wall and sat beneath a row of windows. I had spent much of my youth curled up on the bench with my favorite book while daylight poured over me. Or, even better, were those chilly rainy days with a blanket tucked around me while I read, the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the window-panes a comforting soundtrack.
I grabbed a blanket off the foot of my bed and crossed over to sit on the bench with my back resting against the wall. The sun had long since gone down, but it didn’t matter. I shut my eyes as I let my thoughts wander back over the events of the last couple of months.
Thinking about the last month was like looking at a mirror that had been smudged. I could tell it was me in the reflection, yet I couldn’t see myself clearly. If I thought back on my actions since Mom’s passing, I could honestly say I barely recognized myself. Gone was the optimistic, happy-go-lucky, confident guy, and in his place was a barely functioning human who had lost the ability to see any sort of light at the end of the tunnel. I’d been performing tasks at the most basic level, but anything past that had simply been beyond my capabilities.
I wasn’t sure how I’d allowed myself to get to this point, but I knew I didn’t want it to continue. I’d lost both of my parents by the age of twenty-two. Those were awful, gut-wrenching experiences that no one my age should have to go through, but was this how I was going to go on for the rest of my life? Pushing away everyone around me, angry and bitter and alone?
Was this the kind of teacher I wanted to be? Mitchell had barely allowed me to teach any lessons in our classes, and a part of me had been relieved because interacting with others was exhausting. But what kind of teacher would that make me? I wasn’t getting the teaching experience I would need to be able to lead my own class, and I sure as shit wasn’t making the kind of difference with my students that I had dreamed of.
And Finn.
I knew I’d hurt him deeply. I’d worked so hard to get him to open up to me, to convince him that life was worth living, not simply something to get through, and then I’d spent the last month doing just that, just getting through it.
Worse still, he’d finally learned to love out loud in full color, and I’d kicked him out. He’d trusted me with his heart, with the scars of his childhood and the most hidden pieces of himself, and with just a few harsh words, I’d brought it all crashing down.
But it wasn’t just a few harsh words, was it? I’d been treating him carelessly for weeks. He’d peeled back all those layers, revealing a beautiful, courageous soul. One full of kindness and compassion and loyalty so fierce it took my breath away. He’d trusted me with his heart, and rather than treasuring it like the precious gift it was, I’d shredded it. I’d snuffed out his light, the light that had only just begun to shine.
Even if I could convince him to forgive me, I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive myself.
CHAPTER35
Jamie-
It kills me to watch you suffer so. To see your light diminished so profoundly that I fear I may never feel its warmth again. It’s terrifying, really. A fear quite unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, to see someone I love so deeply, so fully, be so lost and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it.
The depth of love you hold for your mother is a beautiful thing. Notice I said hold and not held because that love will be with you for the rest of your life. Annie didn’t take that with her. It remains within you. And it must feel so heavy right now, holding all that love inside you without a person to bestow it on. Funny, isn’t it, that the same love that can make you feel lighter than air can also feel like the heaviest of burdens? Can you give that burden to me to carry for a little while? I’d carry it for days, weeks, months, or even years if it would bring back your smile, even for a moment.
Sending me away today…that hurt. I won’t lie or pretend like it didn’t. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I haven’t given you the space to breathe. The space to sit with your grief and feel it. To be angry and sad and the whole messy range of emotions between. You have a right to that time and that space.
