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I’d lived inside it, and I’d crawled my way out with teeth, claws, and blood. I knew that darkness wasn’t permanent—just as the sun sets, the sun always rises.
And so do we.
But June didn’t know that. In her whimsical eighteen years of life, she’d been untouched, unscathed, a stranger to true darkness.
Until the day Theo died.
Tragedy changes people. It alters them permanently.
And June manifested her grief in an overabundance of unhealthy love…for me. She clung. She squeezed. She traded in her devastation over losing Theo for an obsessive fear of losing me.
Maybe I should have tried harder. Perhaps I should have stayed just a little bit longer, to help her heal. But I truly believed I was the one thing standing in the way of her healing.
So I did what I thought I had to do.
I did what I thought was right.
One month later…
I moved out.
25
IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED
BRANT, AGE 24
Andrew scratches at his silvery hair, glancing around the cheerless apartment.
Sounds of traffic permeate the wall of silence stretched between us as he parks his hip against the couch we just hauled over from Theo’s old place. Veronica was moving into a new complex, too grief-ridden to stay in the apartment she shared with Theo, and asked if I needed any of his furniture.
I did, technically.
I’ve been living in my new two-bedroom unit for three weeks now, sans a couch. My move out of the Bailey household was abrupt and unplanned, so I wasn’t exactly prepared to furnish a space, and I’m short multiple paychecks thanks to my leave of absence from work.
I’ve been eating my meals at the small laminate kitchen island and hardly have anything in the living room aside from a rocking chair and television I don’t use.
Most of my time has been spent in the barren bedroom, or out on the balcony that overlooks a populated downtown street. I purposely chose a noisier unit, leaving the balcony door cracked open regularly so the hustle and bustle seep inside.
The quiet is where I overthink.
The quiet is where I backslide.
The quiet is where I second-guess everything.
“This could be a remarkable place,” Andrew murmurs, nodding as he gives the nine-hundred-square-foot unit a quick sweep. White walls, outdated fixtures, and hardly any character make it underwhelming at best—hardly remarkable. “It has potential.”
I stuff my hands into my pockets, rocking on the heels of my feet. “Yeah. I’ll spruce it up.”
“I can help if you want. God knows I need a distraction.”
My mind takes me back to watching Andrew sit like a stone on Theo’s old bed as he stared out into space. Focused on nothing. Focused on everything that is now nothing. Clearing my throat, I say, “I’d like that.”
“I know Samantha was reluctant to see you go, but I think you’re right. It’s for the best,” Andrew continues, still nodding. Still looking around, drinking in the proclaimed potential. His receding hairline emphasizes the wrinkles and sunspots etched into his prominent forehead. He’s aged. And I wonder if he’s aged more in the last two months than he has over the last two years. “Moving forward is the only way to keep from slipping back. The timing was hard for her, but it’s right for you. This has been a long time coming.”
Tentacles of guilt coil around me.
The timing was shit.
