Lydia
Age-Fifteen
I’ve barely moved from my bed in the last two days. I don’t think I’ve eaten a real meal in three or four days.
The week leading up to today is always the worst. I know this every time it gets close, yet nothing helps to prepare me for the freight train that’s still determined to hit.
My current foster mom, Sarah, brings food and snacks up to me at least ten times a day, but I haven’t touched any of it. I’ve only forced myself to get down a granola bar just so I can take my antidepressants. Otherwise, I’d be forced to leave my bed more than I’d like, just to throw up from taking them on an empty stomach.I could just…not take them?But that would just make this all so much worse.
I’m not always like this. It’s just…this time of year…sucks. Everything hurts more inside my head.
There are two days I dread most each year, and every time they come around, I can’t help but sink into this hole that’s too deep for me to ever climb out of by myself.
She would be twenty-one today.
The weight of the pain forsomeone who isn’t here feels ironic. For someone who doesn’t exist in the same world as me anymore, they still take up a lot of space.
Her birthday, and the day she left me—days I’ve yet to find ways to deal with.
Sometimes I invite the pain in, though. It makes me feel closer to her. Like, if I still hurt this much, then that means her memory isn’t fading yet.
I haven’t been to school since I was able to get out of bed, and I haven’t seen Simone in just as long. We see each other almost every day, so she always knows when something’s off. She also knows how I get around this time of year, which is why I had to turn my phone off. I don’t really want to be reminded that there’s someone out there who cares. I don’t want to know how much she’s trying to make sure I’m okay. I just want to swim peacefully in the grief. Let the current take me out and wait to go under.
But Simone never lets me get too far before she dives in and pulls me back to shore, so I’m not surprised when I hear a knock at my bedroom door and look up to see her standing there, looking at me with that God-awful pity look on her face.
I hate pity.
But I love Simone. So I don’t protest when she flops down on my bed and lifts up the cover, making herself comfortable next to me.
“Lyd…I don’t know how to tell you this, but…you stink.”
I slowly turn over, glaring at her, but don’t say anything.
“I’ve let you ignore me long enough. I’ve let you fall into the hole. I’ve waited to see if you’d get out by yourself, like I always do…but you haven’t. And as much as I believe one day you’ll be able to…it ain’t happening today, babe.” She takes my face in her hands and makes me look at her. “But it’s okay. We’ll get you there one day, alright? Just…not today. Today you need a little help…myhelp. So I’m here to give it to ya.” She throws the cover off bothof us and stands up. “Come on.”
Her voice is soft but firm—that mix of sunshine and steel she always carries with her.
I groan and bury my face deeper into the pillow. “Go away.”
“Nope,” she tells me, yanking the pillow from under my head. “You smell like sadness. Go shower. You need to do something other than haunt this mattress. Camilla wouldn’t want this for you.”
That part hurts. Because she’s right. But what does it matter? Camilla isn’t here. She’s dead. She left me. Her wants don’t really matter anymore, do they?
“Come on, let’s go.” Simone takes my hand and literally drags me out of bed, even with all my protests. “This year, we’re not sulking anymore. We’re living. We’re going to use distractions to get through the grief. We’re gonna go celebrate her birthday…at a party in Ballantyne.”
“Simone—” I say, halting us mid-step.
“Nope. No arguing. Katie and Harper are going too. You know, the other friends you finally made at your new fancy school, remember them? We like them, and they invited us to some guy’s party. We’re gonna go, have fun, and celebrate her instead of crying. Now go…I’ll be out here waiting.”
Knowing Simone, I don’t have a choice here. She always finds a way to pull me out of my darkest days, even when I resist her every step of the way.
She never gives up.
I reluctantly head into my en-suite bathroom—because I have one of those now.
This house ishuge.
My current foster parents are a married couple in their late forties who could never have kids, so they started opening up their home for foster kids. I now live on the south side of Charlotte, where all the money is. I thought I’d like it a lot more than I actually do, though. I had to move schools, and even though I still see Simone most days, it sucks that we don’t get to go to the same high school because we live farther away from each other now. We’ve made a pact to both go to the same college, though—Texas A&M. Don’t ask me why it’s our dream school. It just is. It’s far away, big, and the perfect escape. We’ve been planning and imagining it for years now.
