Watch and See Page 23

  I feel like I should be crying, but I’m not.

  “She took a piece of a sheet and tied it to a vent in the bathroom...”

  I hear the words, but I can’t make sense of them. His voice goes from a monotone, soothing sound to a droning noise, buzzing in my ear like the door we passed through a few minutes ago. “She’s dead?” I ask, interrupting the buzzing. “But I didn’t get to see her. How could she die?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans. Is there anyone I can call for you? Anything I can do?”

  “No.” I can’t look at him. I focus on the thin lines in the tile beneath my feet and try to wrap my mind around what he’s been telling me.

  Dead.

  I need air.

  I can’t breathe.

  “I have to go,” I tell him. “Is there anything I need to do?” I hear myself talk, but it doesn’t sound like me. It’s not scared or sad or freaking the fuck out, and I’m all of those.

  “You can view the body, if you’d like. I can give you the contact information.”

  “No.” I don’t want that. I don’t want to see her. She didn’t want to see me.

  “You’ll have a couple days, if you change your mind. And if you need someone to talk to, you can call here, anytime.”

  “Thank you.” I stand from the chair and walk back out into the hallway with the nice wallpaper and through the door that buzzes, and I run for the entrance that I know leads to fresh air and floors that aren’t tiled. I run until I see grass under my feet, and then I fall to my knees, taking deep, ragged breaths, hoping I won’t pass out. My heart hammers in my chest, and I feel like I might die...like Sadie.

  She’s dead.

  Oh, God. My head feels light. I’m breathing so hard that my lungs physically hurt. A sob breaks free from my throat, and I feel someone touch my back.

  “I’m here,” he says.

  Two words. Two words, and I feel like I might not die.

  “She died. She’s gone,” I whisper.

  “I know.” Luke’s voice cracks, but his arms are strong as they wrap around me, and he allows me to cling to him.

  “I didn’t even get to see her...or say goodbye.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry.” His lips press to the top of my head, and I feel his chest shudder.

  And then I lose it...everything. I cry and allow my grief to consume me. I forget where I am and what time it is. I barely remember being lifted up and put into a car and then lifted again and placed on something soft. I don’t know how long I cry, and sometimes I forget why, but then it hits me again...

  She’s gone.

  I eventually fall asleep with strong arms wrapped around me. Luke doesn’t have to say anything. His presence is like a soothing balm.

  Sometime later, I wake up, and the room I’m in is dark. The only light is an alarm clock on the nightstand and a faint light coming from a closed door. When I stir, the arms that have been holding me together loosen, and Luke brushes the hair away from my face.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.

  I shake my head, afraid if I answer I’ll start crying again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head again, but his question gets my mind turning. Sadie died. She hung herself... with a sheet.

  “Why?” I croak out, my voice hoarse. “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice is deep and raspy, like he’s been crying too. “Sometimes, the addiction is too much to bear, or the weight of guilt begins to crush you…”

  “I forgave her. I needed to tell her that.”

  “She knew.”

  “I feel...guilty,” I tell him, trying to make sense of the emotions rushing through me.

  “Why?” he asks, sitting up and facing me. “Harper, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me?” There’s fierceness there where sadness had been before. “None.”

  “I feel bad because I almost feel relieved.” I whisper that out into the darkness and hope he can’t hear me, because how can a daughter feel that way? How can someone be relieved that their mother is gone?

  “That’s normal, Harper.” His hands cup my face, and he brushes tears away with his thumbs “Sadie has been sick for a long time...your whole life. It’s like cancer or anything else. You’ve watched her suffer, and you’ve suffered along with her. Feeling relieved that she’s no longer hurting isn’t a bad thing.”

  “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I know.”

  We sit there for a few minutes, or maybe hours. I’m not sure. Luke eventually moves back beside me, leaning against the headboard and pulling me into him. His gentle strokes down my back lull me back to sleep, but it’s restless. I have intermittent dreams of my mom and dad, and then one time, I fall asleep, and I’m alone in a dark room. The walls start to feel like they’re closing in on me, and I wake up gasping for air.

  “Are you okay?” Luke asks, sleep thick in his voice.

  “I...I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

  He sits up and turns a lamp on, and for the first time, I realize where I am.

  His room.

  His apartment.

  “Just take some deep breaths,” he soothes, running a hand down my hair. “I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

  When he stands to walk out, I recognize the gray sweatpants. He’s also wearing a white T-shirt that hugs his chest and his back. “I’ll be right back,” he assures before walking out of the bedroom.

  This is surreal.

  I’ve wondered what this room would look like, and now I’m here. I pinch myself under the blanket just to make sure I’m not still dreaming.

  “Here’s some water, and I brought some Tylenol for you to take. You’ll need it in the morning.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just a little after midnight.”

  I take a drink of the water and swallow two Tylenol. My head does have a dull throb, and my eyes feel swollen.

  “Layla,” I say, realizing I went straight from the library to the rehab, and then nothing...I can’t remember anything after that. “She’ll be worried.”

  The guilt I was feeling earlier is coming back, but now it’s because I feel like the worst friend.

  And daughter.

  My mom is gone.

  I bite down on my lip to try to keep from crying again. I don’t know how I have any tears left to shed.

  “She called earlier,” Luke murmurs, watching me from the edge of the bed. “I told her.”

  He told her?

  “You talked to Layla?”

  “Yeah, she called several times, and you were sleeping. I thought you should rest, so I answered it, and I didn’t want to not tell her...I’m sorry. I probably should’ve—”

  “No.” I stop him. “Thank you. I’ll call her in the morning.”

  “She wanted to come and get you, but I couldn’t let you go. I needed you here with me...I had to make sure you were okay,” he says, but he’s not apologizing for this.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. It was selfish. I just…” He drifts off, shaking his head. “I just needed you, needed to be close to you.”

  I crawl across the bed and into his lap, curling up and sinking into his warmth. When the overwhelming grief starts to wash over me again, I inhale him. Somehow, he grounds me—keeping me from the black hole that is merely inches away, wanting to suck me in.

  “I’m here...and I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

  There’s pain in his words and I realize it’s not only for me, it’s for him too. He lost someone too.

  “Have you lost patients before?” I ask.

  “Yes. One,” he admits, holding me tighter.

  With his confession comes a flashback to a time when I watched him from his window and tears streaked down his face. I wonder if this is the why. And I’m grateful that I’m here—on this side, able to absorb some of his pain, like he’s doing mine. “I’m sorry.”

 
I spend the rest of the night sleeping for an hour or so and then waking up. Sometimes, Luke and I talk. Other times, I cry, and he holds me. But he’s true to his word, and he never leaves.

  For the last hour before dawn, I lie in Luke’s bed awake. This is the first day that my mom isn’t here. The first sunrise she won’t see. And I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel about it. Sad that she’s not here? Guilty that I am? Guilty that I’m relieved? Happy that she’s no longer suffering?

  When a man in a white coat tells you your only living relative died, he should hand you a manual so you know what to do with yourself.

  I’ve spent my whole life worrying about Sadie. Even when I was young and didn’t really grasp what was going on with her, I still worried. Every time she’d leave. Every time she was there but wasn’t. Every time I saw my dad cry or get angry. I always worried. I remember when I was little, my stomach would hurt. Sometimes, I wouldn’t be able to eat for days after she’d leave. She never told me goodbye, so the fact that she left for good without saying goodbye seems appropriate. Shitty, but appropriate.

  Now what? What am I supposed to do now that she’s not here to worry about?

  “I’m making you some breakfast,” Luke says, kissing the back of my head. I knew he was awake. I could feel him shift beside me, reminding me he was still there.

  I don’t reply. I just lie there. It’s all I can do right now. Besides, I don’t feel hungry.

  When I’m alone, the thought from last night creeps back into my mind: I’m in Luke’s bedroom. The bedroom I always wondered about. As the room gets lighter from the rising sun, I’m able to take it in. The colors in here are a stark contrast from what I remember the rest of the apartment looking like. It’s warm and cozy, like a cocoon. The blankets are thick and soft. The pillows are fluffy. The windows are covered with blinds and have taupe-colored sheers over them. There’s a writing desk against the wall with a few books and scattered papers.

  It’s Luke. Not the Luke I first saw in the window, but the Luke I know now. It’s the Luke who picked me up and brought me here...the one who’s in there making breakfast that I probably won’t eat.

  I think I love this Luke.

  Harper

  “Harper,” Luke whispers as the bed dips behind me. He’s been here, just like he said he would be. It’s been two days since I found out Sadie is gone. Two days of feeling numb. Two days of trying to get a grasp on this new reality. Two days of Luke assuring me that the things I’m feeling are normal—not in a therapist sense, but in a way, that makes me think he really does understand on a deeper level.

  “Yeah,” I finally say, trying my voice out for the first time in a while. Luke stayed in this bed with me for the first night and most of yesterday, but since then, he’s given me some space. I’m not sure what he’s doing when he’s not in here, but I can still feel him, even when he’s not right beside me.

  “I brought you some coffee and toast.” His voice sounds concerned and a little tired. “You need to eat.”

  I’m sure I do. It’s been two days, but I don’t have an appetite. Rolling onto my back, I look up at him and see how much tenderness is in his eyes, and I want to at least try, for him.

  Leaning on my elbows, I pull myself up and rest against the headboard. Luke hands me a plate of toast and then walks around to my side of the bed, setting a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand.

  I watch him—watch his body as he moves in the low-slung sweatpants I know so well. I’ve always known how beautiful he is, but being here with him, seeing him like this, he’s even more beautiful than I realized. Maybe it’s the way he’s cared for me or the sweet words he’s whispered as I’ve cried. Maybe it’s the fact that he's cried too. Maybe it’s all of it. But he’s more beautiful to me in this moment than any of the moments from the past combined.

  I take a small bite of the toast, but I think my taste buds are numb like the rest of me. Regardless, I continue to nibble on it, and Luke continues to watch me. The more I eat, the more at ease he seems to be. After I’ve finished half a slice, I reach for the coffee and take a sip.

  “Can I make you something else?” he asks, perched on the end of the bed.

  “No, this is good.” I smile, trying to reassure him that I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.

  Sadie’s death came as a shock, but it shouldn’t have. Every time I got a call telling me she’d been picked up or had overdosed, I always assumed the worst. This last time she was in the hospital, I was sure that would be the end. But then she got better. She got to live. Maybe it was naïve of me to think this time would be different, but I guess I did. I saw her pulling away, but I thought it was because she was trying to be stronger. Now, I realize she was putting even more distance between us. She was trying to make it easier on me once she was gone.

  I wonder how long she planned it.

  I wonder what she was thinking when she did it.

  The thought that continues to bring tears to my eyes is that she was alone. Was she scared? Was she sad? I’m assuming she was, because happy people don’t kill themselves. I try to take comfort in Luke’s words, knowing she’s no longer suffering.

  I’m no longer suffering.

  Even though she’s gone and I’m now without a parent, I do feel a sense of freedom in her death. That, in turn, makes me feel guilty, but the freedom is beginning to outweigh the guilt.

  “How about a hot bath once you’re finished with your toast?”

  I look up into Luke’s deep blue eyes, and now I want to cry for a completely different reason. I want to cry because no one has ever taken care of me like this. Maybe Layla on occasion, but that’s different. I don’t know why, but it is.

  I nod my head and pick up the other piece of toast.

  When I’m finished, I set the plate down, and Luke takes it, walking it into the kitchen. I feel like I should get up and do something, but I don’t have any energy. My body feels like it’s being weighed down. Luke walks back inside the bedroom and straight into the bathroom. A few seconds later, I hear water running.

  “Come take a bath,” he says, leaning on the frame of the door with his hand outstretched. It’s not a question or a request. It’s more like a demand, but in a gentle way—a way that makes me want to comply.

  Climbing over the bed and standing, I take his hand and allow him to lead me into the bathroom. I notice a fluffy white towel sitting beside the tub and a pair of gray sweatpants like the ones he’s wearing, along with a t-shirt folded up, sitting on the counter.

  “I put a washcloth out for you...and a towel and some clothes…” His voice drifts, but he never takes his eyes off me. “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He points over his shoulder.

  I nod and watch him close the door. I want to beg him to stay, but I don’t feel ready to bare my body to him. My soul and heart, maybe, but not my body, not yet.

  Stripping out of the clothes I’ve been wearing for two days, I stick a toe in the water, testing the temperature, and it’s perfect. As I step into the tub and sink down, my body is slowly engulfed, and I feel ten times lighter by the time the water hits my chin.

  For the first twenty minutes or so, I just soak as I stare at my reflection in the shiny faucet and let my mind go blank.

  I feel like I’m in a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

  A knock on the door startles me, and I splash water as I reach for the towel.

  “Harper?” Luke’s voice comes from the other side.

  “Yes?”

  “Just checking to make sure you’re... okay.” He hesitates, but I know he’s still there because I can hear his fingers drumming lightly on the door. “Do you need anything?”

  “No. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I drain some of the now lukewarm water and fill the tub back up with more hot water. Reaching for the body wash, I inhale it and close my eyes. It’s a little part of what makes up Luke’s smell, and I love it.

  After I’m dried off an
d standing in front of the mirror in Luke’s clothes, I stare at myself. My eyes are tinged pink, and the skin under them is dark, but I’m still here.

  Sadie is gone, but I’m still here.

  When I open the door, Luke is there, and his arms immediately wrap around me.

  “Sorry,” he whispers after a few seconds. “I just needed to be close to you.” I have no idea why he’s apologizing. I need this more than he does. It’s me who should be apologizing for making him put his life on hold to take care of me.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter against his chest.

  “For what?” he asks softly.

  “For keeping you from your job. I’m sure you’ve had to call in to work by now.” Even though I am sorry, it doesn’t keep me from clinging to him and greedily breathing him in.

  “Don’t apologize. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  §

  “Layla,” Luke says in a groggy tone, sleep thick in his voice as he hands me my phone.

  It’s the middle of the afternoon, but I didn’t sleep well last night, which means Luke didn’t sleep well either. He sat up with me, listened to me, and comforted me until the sun rose behind the blinds. After breakfast, we snuggled back up in his bed and went back to sleep.

  “I should answer. She’ll keep calling.” I take the phone from him and swipe my thumb across the screen to accept the call. “Hey, Layla.”

  “Thank God,” her relieved voice says from the other end. “Harper, sweetie…” She pauses, and I feel the emotions thick in my throat. “God... I’m so sorry.”

  “I know.” I don’t know what else to say. Talking to Layla makes me realize that I’m eventually going to have to face the real world. I can’t hide away in Luke’s bed forever. I haven’t seen anything or anyone besides these four walls and him since Sunday.

  “Come home,” she pleads. “I need to see you with my own eyes and know you’re okay. Please.”

  “I will.” I need to. I know that.

  “Is there anything I need to do? Anyone I need to call for you?” she asks.

  There’s no one.

  Just me.

  I clear my throat to keep from crying. “Uh, no. Well, if you could let work know. I’ll email my professors. And I’ll have to go up and sign some papers at the rehab and pick up Sadie’s things, but that’s it.” I’ll also need to send an email to Mrs. Jackson too.