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ADDISON
The next two days are a blur. The house is always bustling with energy, but it’s the loneliest it’s ever felt.
The doorbell rings constantly with visitors, their arms loaded with casseroles and veggie trays. Pregnant Addison doesn’t mind, but sad and overwhelmed Addison is starting to get annoyed at the lack of fridge space.
After rearranging its contents for the third time today and still not finding enough space to fit everything, I give up and slam the door with a huff. I turn to the remaining tin foil dishes littering the counter and sigh, dropping my head to the fridge.
I’m so tired.
The kind of tired that only bone-deep sadness can cause. I miss my friend so goddamn much. I’m sad she’s gone, made even worse that everyone around me is also heartbroken. I’m creeped out that she died just down the hallway from where I sleep. It keeps me up at night, this ridiculous idea that she’ll just walk into the room at any moment, her already-rotting flesh dripping off her, coming back to take what’s rightfully hers.
“Excuse me.” Chase’s gruff voice sounds behind me.
He’s barely said two words to me since the morning Emily passed away. Overwhelmed by grief, he had passed out at my feet. When he woke, we all insisted he rest, but he wouldn’t listen. Ignoring us all, he took a shower and then ran around the house taking care of mundane tasks, making calls, and giving instructions.
He was so cold about the entire thing, like he hadn’t known Emily at all. He wasn’t mourning like the rest of us, but instead, finding tasks that seemed so unimportant at the time. His odd behavior worried me, but I knew grief wasn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. I gave him space to work through his emotions, knowing that when the house calmed at the end of the night, he’d take me into his arms and do whatever he needed to do to get his feelings out.
Only, he never did.
He ignored my prompting to talk and rolled over and went to sleep. In the two days since, he’s acted as though we’re nothing but strangers, so hearing him now has me skittering out of his way, my heart thumping hard in my chest.
He snags a beer from the fridge and shuts the door. My eyes slide over to the clock on the stove, acknowledging the fact that it’s not even noon, before making their way back over to him. I do my best to keep my face judgment-free.
Using the bottle opener on the fridge, he snaps the lid off and tosses it onto the counter, then leans back and downs half the bottle. When he turns to me, I manage a wobbly smile, but he doesn’t return the sentiment. It slides off my face as he looks back out over the kitchen. I want to speak up, to say something that acknowledges his pain while also acknowledging mine, but nothing feels right. Everything I want to say right now is either too selfish or too cruel.
I’m startled when he speaks again. “I’m sending my mom home after the funeral tomorrow and telling her to stay away for a while. I’m tired of her hovering.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised by the cold tone of his words. His reticence for me is one thing, but he’s never shown even the tiniest bit of hostility to his mother. And this week, Janice has been nothing but loving and helpful, even while dealing with her own sadness and grief.
“She only wants to help, Chase.” My frustration leaks through my compassion, and my words come out a touch harsher than I’d like them to. “You’re not making it very easy on her.”
“We don’t need any help. We’re fine.” He proves his point by finishing off his beer and smacking it down onto the countertop.
“Are we?” I ask. My anger is spiraling quicker than I can stop it. “I’m not sure getting drunk before lunch and walking around the house ignoring your girlfriend really constitutes as fine.”
“I’m not drunk, Addison,” he bites out. “And mind your business. If I won’t let my mom smother me, I sure as hell won’t let you.”
His words feel like bombs, dropping around us without warning and leaving behind destruction. I have to fist my hand to keep myself from reaching out and slapping him, which stuns me. I’ve never wanted to slap anyone before. How is this happening to me? To us?
We were fine, great even. We loved each other. We knew this time would come, yet we never seemed to talk through our expectations for when it did. We kept ourselves in a bubble when we discussed the future, pretending like Emily’s death wouldn’t play any part in it. Naively, I thought it wouldn’t. I knew we’d be hurt and sad and our entire lives would change, but I thought we’d get through it together. I thought we’d come out stronger. I never anticipated it would be our demise.
I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that sting my eyes. “I get that you’re having a tough time, Chase, and I want to be there for you, but you don’t get to talk to me like that.” I do my best to appear strong in front of him, even when I feel like I’m falling apart.
His head swivels my way, his stare so hard that it makes me squirm. For just a flash of a second, the pinch in his brow disappears, and I see the man I love before me. But before relief can set in, annoyance settles back on his face.
He opens the fridge and grabs another beer. His eyes don’t leave mine as he pops the top off and takes a swig before walking out of the room.
“Real fucking mature,” I mutter to his departing back.
* * *
The day of Emily’s funeral, I wake up to baby kicks. While I’ve felt his little internal flutters before, I’ve never been able to feel kicks from the outside. A wave of happiness flows through me, and my first instinct is to wake Chase. I carefully start to roll over, hoping not to jar the baby to move, but I quickly realize Chase isn’t even in bed.
Tears gather in my eyes as I settle onto my back. For just a moment, I had forgotten the world around me. I rub my stomach, wanting to feel more of him. Wanting to draw out the only bit of happiness I’ve felt in days, but nothing else comes. This moment feels like the perfect representation of my life right now. Wanting something so badly, seeing it right there in front of me, and then having it taken away the moment I get excited about it.
Reluctantly, I get out of bed, knowing I have to face the day eventually. I go to the bathroom and then head downstairs to see who all’s around. It’s almost nine a.m., so I expect Rudy and Janice to already be here, maybe even Drake and Indira, but instead, I find the house empty. I head back upstairs to check my phone and see a few messages waiting for me.
Olivia: Thinking of you today. Call if you need me. I love you.
