It’s impossible not to melt, not to clutch my hand over my heart when Tommy is on my screen. I may not be a kid person usually, but this child is everything. He laughs and bounces around in a diaper as Katrina sets him on the bed and opens a book.
“Auntie Diana is going to read to you, okay?”
Tommy lunges at the phone when he sees me, and he reaches out and screeches, “DiNah! DiNah!”
“Yes, it’s me! DiNah.” I’m giddy. “Ready forBear Snores On?”
After I read the book a few times over and hang up with Katrina, I am melancholy. Hurting, and aching, and heartbroken again.
I text Dave.
Me:I’m cast-free. Wheee!
Dave:I know. I was there when it was removed. I’m very happy for you.
He’s always so sweetly controlled, and factual, and cute, but I can practically hear him gently laughing now.
Me:I still can’t believe it. It felt like I was going to be thrashing around like a cave person forever.
Me:I might have been a bit messy last night.
Dave:You were exuberant. Deservedly so.
Me:Okay if I come see you? Or are you too busy?
Dave:Pedro Pascal, Marcia Gay Harden.
He’s not too busy.
Me:Anthony Edwards. And Brooke Shields. Ed Asner.
Dave:Dave Navarro.
So, I shower and get to usebothof my hands to scrub the shit out of my hair, layer on a few products, and then blow it dry with a diffuser. My red curls finally look normal by my own hands. Then I throw on one of my JAKI tops—an ultra-black mock turtleneck that drapes down my torso in soft folds and pair it with jeans. I want to look cute, but don’t want to seem like Itried too hard to look cute, so I do very minimal makeup. I mean, that’s been my standard for as long as he’s known me, but I do have to resist the temptation to go overboard and indicate that I want to drag him home and do all the things…
I grab the keys to my Subaru and head out. It’s also pretty thrilling that I can slip both of my arms through the sleeves and put on a weighty winter coat.
Out of nowhere, an involuntary and gross cry hits me the moment I leave Dave’s place. Stupid pain hits when it wants. Good thing I’ve got tissues and a bottle of water, so I clean myself up. Without a doubt, my sad attempt at eyeliner and such is already bleeding down my face.
This has been happening though. Like, all of a sudden, I’ll realize that my face is soaked, and my eyes are burning.
My heart is so full of bullets.
These breakdowns are maybe something I’m getting used to. They’re going to be my new normal. They’re going to routinely deliver pain. Grief, loss, fucking intolerable aches. All are going to be a part of my makeup, who I am.
My friendship with Patrick will be stored in my muscle memory forever. There will be lifelong triggers, and so I will see, hear, and think of him andusfor the rest of my life.
And maybe that’s not something to be scared of. Not something to run away from.
It’ll keep Patrick with me forever.
I guess I can either let the bullets kill me or I can figure out how to live with them.
I choose the latter.
It’s a short drive to town and to the parking lot where Dave’s truck still shows a solid line of hungry diners. But that’s good because it gives me time to collect myself.
Chapter 20
