Page 154 of Healing Eleanor

My eyes fall on the opening words, and my breath catches. It says that before anything existed, the Word was already with God—and is God. That everything is created through Him. In Him is life, a light that still shines into the darkest places, untouched by the darkness surrounding it.

I read on, chapter after chapter, the hours slipping by as daylight fades into evening. Some passages feel like puzzles I can’t quite solve, but strangely, impossibly, it all seems to reach me anyway.

By the time I close the book, awe presses heavy on my chest. I reach for my journal and pen from the nightstand, flip to a blank page, and write the only words that come to me.

Are you there, God?

In the silence, a peace and a love I don’t recognize slip into the cracks of my heart, filling a hole I thought was impossible to mend. Though I sit alone in my room, I don’t feel lonely. It’s like the steady presence of a loving parent, warm and watchful even if they aren’t there.

I set my journal aside and let myself weep. Not from sorrow, but because a love I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve has found me in the most unlikely way. In that single moment, my life split into a before and after, irrevocably altered.

Nikolai

I knock on the door a few times until a muffled, “Come in,” sounds from the other side.

Evelyn’s office is warm, and I’m grateful. My hip has been aching relentlessly in the cold these past few days.

The winter season for showcases have finally come to an end, and I can’t be more relieved. After Mama’s funeral, only three showings remained before my break. I wasn’t taking it for granted. I need this time to get right with God, to face the emotions I’ve shoved aside, and to process a death I didn’t think would come so suddenly.

“Nik, what a surprise! How are you, dear?” Evelyn asks around a mouthful of food, smiling warmly despite this being her lunch hour.

I feel a pang of guilt for interrupting, but I need her. The comfort of my mother’s best friend, someone steady in the chaos of grief.

I sit down, rubbing my hands together, trying to still the ache that seems to settle not just in my hip but deep in my chest. The snowstorm outside mirrors how I feel inside: restless, raw, and cold.

Even here, in the safety of Evelyn’s warmth, my thoughts drift to Eleanor. The memory of that night in the snow, her ankle, her insistence on being there for me, keep replaying, and I hate myself for thinking about it when I should only be grieving. Yet, in the same moment, I can’t deny the pull of her presence in my life. The ache of wanting her close, of longing for comfort, cut through the numbness I’ve wrapped myself in since Mama’s funeral.

I glance at Evelyn, her kind eyes noting something unspoken. I know she can see it—the conflict between my grief, my faith, and the small, stubborn hope I carry for Eleanor. And somehow, just being here, just opening myself to the possibility of talking, makes it feel slightly less unbearable.

“What’s on your mind?” Evelyn asks gently, taking another bite of her sandwich.

I sigh and sink into the couch, trying to get comfortable. “Everything,” I confess.

Evelyn chuckles softly. “Well, that certainly narrows it down.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “How about giving me the top three things that are bothering you most right now?”

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “I feel distant from God, even though I know I’m not. I feel stuck in my grief over Mama, and I can’t seem to mourn her properly… because I can’t stop thinking about Eleanor.”

Evelyn tilts her head, leaning back in her chair. “Oh honey, that would wear anyone down.”

“I know.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Feels like it’s crushing me.”

“Have you tried praying?” she asks, taking a sip of her soup.

I sigh, placing my hands behind my head. “I’ve tried so many times, but it all keeps coming back. When I’m at church, I can’t focus—grief over Mama hits me, or Eleanor’s face when I didn’t kiss her back.” I admit it, not caring that I’ve just spilled about Eleanor.

Evelyn’s expression shifts, just slightly, a knowing look flickering across her face.

“Why do you look like you already know about that?”

She feigns sheepishness. “Know about what?”

“Eleanor… kissing me…” I trail off, uneasy.

She takes a sip of water, her eyes never leaving mine. “You know I’m seeing her.”

“Yes,” I say slowly, surprised, “but… did she tell you that?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Nik,” Evelyn says, giving me her best mom look, gentle but firm.