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Davis
I’m too numb to think.
Too filled with pain to even breathe. Night after night I’ve sat in my shitty apartment trying to wrap my head around all these new revelations I’ve discovered. I’ve barely slept, hardly eaten, and have consumed more alcohol than is humanly possible. I’ve even missed a few days’ work, which is unheard of for me.
I’ve forced myself to see Merrick a few times, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Suddenly I’m seeing everything in my life differently. I see how stupid I’ve been, remaining with Chantal all these years. I see how incredibly lonely I’ve become, and how the pain from the past has kept me from moving forward. I see the part Merrick has played in all this, and how he’s offered me something I’ve never had; a real, true friendship.
I see how I’ve failed in so many areas of my life; how I’ve failed my family, and even those I work with. I’ve let my grief dictate every choice I’ve made, every thought I’ve had, and because of that, life became rather easy. I had no expectations, no assumption of happiness. I had only work, church on Sundays, and a marriage in name only.
This morning when I looked at the calendar, everything changed. Suddenly I was back inside that hospital room, holding my dying infant daughter in my arms, listening to my wife sob uncontrollably. I was no longer the man who had spent the past three weeks floundering and drinking too much. I was just the same man I’d been back then, begging God to spare his child, hoping against all odds thatHewould listen.
I have no idea how I found myself standing on Merrick’s porch. One minute I was in my apartment, staring at the photo of me and my precious girl. The next thing I know I’m banging on Merrick’s door and letting him lead me by the hand into his house, then gently pushing me to sit on the couch.
I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, but it’s not the least bit cold in here. The pain of the memories are so intense, I’m almost gagging with the need to escape it. And then there are the tears, which began the moment I took his hand, and are now running so fast down my face they’re dripping onto my lap.
“Talk to me,” Merrick whispers. “Let me help you.”
A sob catches in my throat and it takes all my strength to keep from howling like a baby. I wish I could stop. I wish I could compartmentalize the memories as I have for so long. But somewhere in the span of these past few weeks, I’ve started to mourn my life almost as much as I grieve for my daughter.
“Please, Davis. Tell me how I can help you.”
I wish he could. I wish anything I said at this point would help, but I fear nothing will. Booze and pills haven’t helped, running hasn’t either. I feel split wide open, eviscerated by a past that refuses to lie dormant and by these new feelings that I cannot seem to process or fully understand.
The shaking begins to subside, but what takes its place is terrifying. A paralyzing numbness overtakes me and suddenly I can barely breathe. I can only sit there with tears streaming down my face and attempt to get ahold of myself. Minutes go by…how many, I have no idea. I hear Merrick pleading with me, his words at first whispered, then growing harsher the more I retreat into myself. I start to calm, then suddenly the pain rises up and I’m silently sobbing once more.
I feel warm fingers wrap around mine, more warm fingers on my jaw. I feel the steady patience is his body and look through the wall of tears to worried blue eyes; eyes that are slowly filling with tears to match mine.
“Tell me how to help you,” he whispers.
With a ragged gasp, I fall against his body. Strong arms surround me, my face tucked against his neck as I cry. All the pain, all the endless loneliness, all the bitterness and anger….everything pours out of me as I sit there wrapped in the arms of the first and only real friend I’ve ever had. I mumble garbled pleading words amidst the sobs, and he’s right there to soothe me with whispered encouragement and understanding.
In that moment, when I’m as raw and vulnerable and I ever could be, I realize how starved I’ve been for human touch. Just the warmth from his skin against mine calms me, soothes me in a way I could never have imagined. I honestly can’t recall the last time someone—anyone—voluntarily touched me, and until this moment I hadn’t realized how very much I crave even theideaof touch. And I need it, desperately so.
His hold tightens on me when my fingers curl into the flesh at his waist, and it’s then I realize he’s shirtless; my tears dripping down his bare torso like persistent rain drops. Having not embraced a single person in a long, long time, I feel like I want to crawl inside him and never leave.
The tears slow to a halt almost as quickly as they started, and I’m weak from the over-abundance of emotions. My body is limp, spent, held upright only by the sheer strength of the man embracing me. He whispers, “Please talk to me, babe,” and not once do I consider that we’ve somehow crossed an invisible line from friendship to something more. All I know in that moment is that I need him, and he is there to help me.
My voice is raw when I eventually speak. “I miss her so much.”
His body briefly tenses against mine, then his arms tighten once more. “Tell me.” The two words are achingly simple yet so very excruciating. It’s clear he’s known all along that I’m haunted by something. It’s only in this moment that he has the strength to actually urge me to talk about what that something is.
Tears fill my eyes once more, but the shaking and sobbing are gone for now. The words come spilling up and out, rolling off my tongue as if they’re being forced out; as if I have no choice but to let them escape. “Her name was Charlotte.”Inhale, shudder, and a splash of tears on his chest.“Six years ago today she took her last breath. I was holding her. She was my daughter, my entire world.”Shudder, gasp. “God, I miss her.”
There are no words for a truth like this. I know it, and so does he. So when he pulls me in tighter, and I feel the wetness of his own tears against my face, I can do nothing but allow the moment to unfurl. Whatever this is—friendship, sympathy, or something else I refuse to name—the only thing that matters is the truth. My truth.Hertruth too.
“When Chantal was pregnant, we found out that the baby had a congenital heart defect. A hole in her heart. The doctor said there was a possibility that it would close after she was born.”Inhale, shudder, more tears. “She lived only two days.”Suck in a deep, shaky breath.“She n-never even got a chance to live, not really anyway. We n-n-never even g-got to bring her home from the hospital.”
His words are the barest whisper. “I’m so very, very sorry.”
“Chantal wouldn’t speak to me for weeks after we came home from the hospital. Her mother planned the funeral, but I was out of it to attend.” Those weeks will forever remain the most painful in my entire life. In the span of a few days, I lost my future, my daughter, and any relationship I once had with the woman I called my wife. I had lost…everything. “We started sleeping apart from that point on. A few years ago, I finally moved into the apartment above the garage. We don’t talk unless we absolutely have to. We live two completely separate lives.”
“Why do you stay?”
“I wish I knew.” The breath I inhale is shaky. “Guilt, I suppose. Family expectations. A fucked up sense of obligation. I have no idea.”
Merrick settles in against the cushions, keeping me in his tight embrace. “What can I do for you?”
Stubborn tears inch up once more, trickling one by one down my face. “You’re doing it. You’re here for me.”
