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“We can try again, okay. Let me talk to them,” I whisper in Kathy’s ear, but still loud enough for the doctor to hear me. I look over my shoulder and catch him shaking his head, before adjusting the glasses comfortably on the bridge of his nose.
“Sir, we don’t want to have to ask you to leave, but we will if you don’t calm down. I wish we could have saved him, but his heart wasn’t strong enough.”
Letting go of Kathy, I turn back to him, about to give him the worst verbal beatdown, when I hear Shayla’s soft voice.
“Trey?” I look past the doctor and see her standing with her hands nervously picking at each other, her eyes watering, and her head shaking in denial. I lose it; I fucking lose all that I have left in me.
“Baby!” I say, falling to my knees with a broken voice. The pain of my knees hitting the ground minuscule to the pain rip-roaring through me. The universe could suck me into a black hole and it still wouldn’t be as dark and alone as I feel.
She rushes to me and engulfs me in her small but strong arms. I sob harder than any man ever has, letting go of the fight, letting go of everything I’m holding in. The doctor’s right, as much as it pains me, they’re fucking right.
“Trey…” Her soft sobs match mine, weak and helpless, as we stay in this moment. I feel defeated. She cries above me, her tears rushing down her cheeks and crashing onto my arms.
“He’s gone. My dad is fucking gone.” I become numb after I say those words, acceptance being the root of all evil. Never will I be the same. Today, a part of my heart died in that room. A part of my soul left this earth.
“Trey…baby…I’m sorry. I wish I could make this better. But all I can say is he will always be here, in your heart,” she says on another cry. I’m not sure if she is trying to convince me of this or herself.
Either way, I wish she could, too. I wish that I could find hope in her words, but right now, all hope is lost and I’m numb inside.
Shayla
IT’S BEEN FIVE LONG, PAINFULLY hard days since we lost Pops. I have spent the past five days watching Trey become a ghost of himself; drinking, sleeping, and barely eating. He’s a shell of a man now.
I took on the responsibility, willingly, to plan the funeral and take care of everything. Including drives to check on Kathy to make sure she’s okay. Her suffering is deep, but she’s fighting to live day to day to make sure Trey can have all the time needed to grieve his tremendous loss. This shocked me; really, she doesn’t need to fear that her grief isn’t just as important. She and Charles were a match made in heaven, the kind of love people write stories about.
Kathy helped a little with preparing the funeral, but I insisted that I take most of it on, so she could take some time to come to terms with her loss as well.
“Hey, baby girl, how you holding up?” I look up from my place in the bathtub and see Lana walking into the bathroom—her bathroom, to be exact.
“Hey, sorry, I needed to take a bubble bath, but Trey’s finally asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up. Hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken up residence.”
“No, you’re good.” Pausing, she looks at me with a pitiful sorrow. “How are you?” she asks sincerely, her hand running through my damp hair. Lana’s been the biggest help, hiring a new girl and managing the boutique all by herself. I wouldn’t have made it this past week if she didn’t do all the things she has. Lana helped with the funeral, as well as Kingston. We united like the tribe we are to protect one of our own. Trey is suffering and we all want to take care of him. That notion warms my aching heart just a bit.
“I’m okay,” I lie, covering up my deception with the best fake smile I can muster.
“Cut the crap, Shay. You aren’t okay.” Though she is right—so right—I play the confused fool. I’m not the one who lost my father. Sure, my life isn’t peaches and cream at the moment, but I don’t want to be selfish, especially since Trey is the one going through the worst of times.
“Why would you say that?” I ask, taking a sip of the wine that I brought in with me.
“Because you have gone through a lot this past week, that’s why. So spill it.”
I continue to bluff. “I’m fine, Trey lost his father, nothing I’ve gone through can compare to what he’s going through,” I state honestly, concentrating on the bubbles floating around me.
“Shay, you were attacked, we lost the investment, and you lost Pops, too. We all did that night; don’t be afraid to say you’re hurt, too. I’m not Trey, you can let it out.” All those points are true; however, she’s missing one. One thing I haven’t told anyone plays on loop in the back of my mind, where I wish I could keep it forever. I was diagnosed with PCOS, but also, I have small, benign tumors growing alongside the cysts. I found out a few days ago and it’s been killing me to keep it a secret. Lana places her hand on my shoulder, reminding me to answer her.
“Yeah…” It’s all I can say; my mind is more filled with worry while my heart breaks daily seeing my best friend—my boyfriend—suffering. It isn’t easy. Trey’s normally styled hair is now in constant disarray. His scruff has turned into a small beard. He spends his time drinking and sleeping away the day, shutting everyone else out. I think that’s the worst part, we’ve barely had a conversation since the night we walked out of that hospital. Emotionally and physically distant being the sum of who we are at the moment.
“Yeah, what?” Lana asks from her spot on the floor next to the tub, her arms on the ledge and her head lying flat against them, tilted to look at me.
“I’m so heartbroken for him, L. It’s not fair. He has no one left. I’m having a hard time thinking that someone so great can be dealt such a heavy hand.” When his mom walked out, he lost her, and now his dad’s gone. Being an only child didn’t leave him much to run to. Nodding in agreement, she lifts her head, reaching her hand out to rub my shoulder once again. Lana gets it; she knows I’m right.
“What can I do to help you, Shay? I want to make sure that you’re okay and not drowning in all this alone.” I lean forward, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. It’s too late for drowning, this has been a shitty week and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get any better, any time soon. My boat left the harbor and shipwrecked, crashing down to the bottom of the sea. That boat being my crushed heart.
“Right now, you just being here is the best thing I can think of,” I tell her.
“I can do that. How is Kathy?” Kathy’s emotionless eyes flash in my head, her heart now hollow and empty. I feel like I’m talking to a robot when I call or show up to her house.
“Not good. I feel like she’s on repeat. You know, reliving that day over and over again.” I take another sip of my wine, the sweet grape taste traveling over my taste buds and down my throat. I think I’m too heartbroken to get drunk, even if I tried.
