My eyes snap to his and I can see him flinch a little. He’s been walking on eggshells around me all day. Guilt washes over me and my shoulders slump. “I don’t see how. I don’t see a way forward. And even if I did, I don’t think I deserve one.”
Simon shakes his head. “You don’t deserve any of the blame you’re getting, even the blame you’re putting on yourself.”
I hang my head in silence and shame. “I was driving.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
“But it’s what everyone knows. And even if I didn’t cause it, I am still responsible for what happened.”
“She made a choice, Pisces. One that hurt you too, might I remind you.”
Silence hangs over us for a few moments and lengthens when the server brings the appetizers Simon ordered. He puts a few things on my plate, sliding it over to me.
“Do you know how many times I thought to myself, I should get her some help? I should tell someone—anyone—about what she was doing to herself?”
Simon shakes his head.
“Almost every single day.” I let out a harsh laugh. “But I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone.” I rub the underside of my right arm, feeling the scarred skin, the constant reminder of my failings.
“It still isn’t your fault. If she didn’t want help, it’s possible there was nothing you could have ever done.”
“Maybe that’s true. But maybe not. Maybe I’m the reason. She was happier before she met me. I ruin things, Simon.”
He gives me a questioning look in response and breathes out a sigh, no doubt thinking through his next words carefully. “I’m not saying you don’t have some things to learn about being in arelationship. We all probably do. But you can’t completely blame yourself. It sounds like you two were just not a good match. You were toxic together. I wasn’t around you two much, but I heard things. Maybe things could have been better, but you have no idea if that would have changed anything.”
I nod. I understand what he’s saying, but it doesn’t ease any of the guilt I feel. It’s still my fault what happened. I should have let her go, but I was so desperate to fix things, to keep her.
The image of her grabbing the wheel and yanking it to the left, the car spinning out of control and crashing through the railing, plays through my mind over and over. I take a few quick gasps, drawing a bit of attention to our table. Simon reaches out and takes my hand and I let a few tears fall, because I don’t deserve this kindness. I don’t deserve anything good.
“It’s going to be okay,” Simon says, giving my hand a little pat. “Eventually it’s going to be okay.”
I nod, even if I don’t believe him. But it helps me stop the tears before they can become a steady stream. The rest of our food arrives and we wait in silence as the plates are set down. Once the waiter leaves, Simon picks up his fork and dives in. I don’t touch mine.
“What about music? Have you been writing any new songs?” Simon asks between mouthfuls.
I pick up my fork and start pushing the food around on my plate. “No,” I say hesitantly, like I’m admitting a fault. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to even play piano,” I admit. Why do I feel a prick of shame?
Simon’s concern arrives back in his furrowed brow. “I’m no therapist, but wouldn’t music help you? Catharsis and all that, right?”
The corner of my mouth hooks up gently. “I think that’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I process these emotions, then they’re gone. I could heal and move on. And I don’t deserve that.”
“How enlightened of you,” Simon responds, and I can tell he’s fighting a grin, which only makes me break out into a smile of my own. I chuckle for the first time since the crash. Simon laughs a bit with me. In the break in conversation I take a bite of food.
After a few moments, Simon grows thoughtful. “Maybe you could reframe it.”
“Hmm?”
“Maybe it helps you move on, but what if your music helps others move on? Helps others heal? Use your pain to help others and become worthy of healing yourself. Don’t get me wrong. You’re already worthy, but maybe this will help youfeelworthy.”
“That sounds selfish, like I’m doing it for the wrong reasons.”
Simon shrugs. “Does it matter, if the end result is you and a load of other people are healed?”
I pause. I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe it doesn’t. But then another thought pops into my head. “But if I share my music and it helps people, then I’d have their admiration. I don’t deserve that either.”
