“Okay,” I say. “Then maybe I can talk about ways I can work through my grief.”
She nods. “That’s a good start. You know we’ve talked about different things. This is good, you talking to a professional, but there are things that you can do in between sessions.”
“Right.” She’s mentioned them in the past. Like meditation, exercise, going for long walks, sticking to a routine.
“I’m really glad you’re open to talking about this. I think if we talk a little more about how your grief affects you and certain triggers you may experience, we can try to find different coping mechanisms and see what works for you.”
“Um, this might be a little off topic, but…” I pause, not sure if this is the direction we’re supposed to be heading. “You mentioned…journaling in the past.”
“Yes,” she says, encouraging. “Journaling is a great way to organize your thoughts. And I think it’s a good idea. If you’re up for it, you can write down your thoughts and share them with me during our sessions. I think it can help make our time very productive.”
“How about letters?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
James
NOW
It’squiet in the house. I can hear the occasional dog bark in the distance, crickets chirping outside just past the sliding glass doors, and a trill of a car alarm. The sounds of plastic wheels on concrete as someone drags their trash bin out to the curb. I’m sitting on my couch, the TV off and the silence is drifting to the far corners of the kitchen and all the way up to our empty bedrooms.
It’s been about a week since Kendall left, and the only assurance I got of her safe arrival was a brief call that was eventually passed over to Sophia. She raved about her first time on an airplane, giving the experience ten out of ten stars. She gushed over the small TV screens behind each seat while she attempted to sit still through a two-and-a-half-hour flight and bragged about the flower crown she and Katy made together from a small bed of wildflowers.
I have my phone held between my hands, considering another awkward call to Kendall. I’ve been wanting to call them every day, just to see how they’re doing. Even just to say good night or good morning. I wish I didn’t have to think twice about doing something that used to be so second nature to me.
The center of my chest feels like someone punched a large crater into it. I didn’t even get to drive them to the airport. Kendall refused my offer, though I insisted, and that seemed to upset her. Every time she had to tell me no, I saw how her control thinned. I didn’t have the chance to pull up to departures, help Kendall with their luggage, or even stretch out a long, impassioned goodbye. Instead, I loaded their suitcases in the trunk of the rideshare Kendall called for ahead of time, and I hugged Sophia while Kendall waved a morose goodbye in my direction. And they took off, taking that scooped out chunk of my heart with them.
My phone flashes with a completely irrelevant alert—an email about a coupon for some store I probably gave my email to in the past—and it’s as if it’s taunting me.
I groan, giving in.
“Hello?” Kendall answers on the second ring.
“Hey.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, and I wonder if she will. If she just answered to appease me, to keep what little peace remains in the balance, or if she’s actually willing to talk.
“I just called to see how you guys are doing.”
“Sophia’s asleep,” she tells me, her voice low and careful. “We went to the aquarium with Sylvia and Katy, and it really wore her down.”
“Sounds like she’s having a good time.”
“Told me it’s the best summer vacation she’s had in a decade.”
I chuckle. “Does she know what a decade is?”
“I don’t think so,” she says, a light laugh in her answer. “But I think she heard it somewhere, and she’s sticking with it.”
“How about you?” I ask, treading carefully. “Are you having a good time?”
She sighs into the phone. “I’m okay.” Another pause that’s amiable and considerate. “How…are you?”
With the way she left, I didn’t think this kind of conversation was possible. I thought every time I tried to talk to her I’d be met with a cold shoulder. But she’s talking to me. Prying open just enough for me to feel hopeful.
“I’m…okay.”
“Okay.”
