21
Vivien
Lainey’s pitiful cries wake me from sleep, and I crawl out of bed, careful not to disturb Easton as I head on autopilot toward the nursery. As I stumble from my bedroom, her cries grow louder and more insistent, and I’m overwhelmed with the need to erase my daughter’s suffering.
The nursery door crashes against the wall, waking me from whatever quasi sleep-slash-comatose-slash-illusionary state I was trapped in. Pain slams into me like a freight train, knocking all the air from my lungs and taking my legs out from under me. I collapse on the floor in the doorway of the nursery, hacking up gut-wrenching sobs birthed straight from my splintered soul.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but then Audrey is there, cradling me from behind, her cries mixing with mine. In between sobs, I tell her what happened. “Am I going crazy, Rey? Am I losing my mind?” I stare at the pretty pink and white nursery with the Tinkerbell mural on the wall with a new layer of horror. I can’t lose my grasp on my sanity. I am all Easton has, and he needs me to get a grip. It’s been six weeks since I lost Lainey and Reeve, and it doesn’t feel like it’s getting any better. Maybe I should try the meds Audrey and my therapist are suggesting.
“The brain is a complex organ.” Audrey cradles me in her arms with my back to her chest. “One we will never fully understand. And you’re not going crazy. You’re traumatized, and grief manifests in different ways.” I sniffle, nodding. “What are you going to do about the nursery?” she asks me, after a few beats of silence.
“I don’t know. I can’t even look at it without immense pain. It’s why I never go in there. Reeve, Easton, and I picked every item for her nursery together. We even helped the artist paint parts of the mural. Everything is so personal I can’t bear to throw it away, but I can’t look at it either. It’s the most painful reminder of my loss.”
“I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for you, Viv. But I’ve seen enough grief and trauma in my medical journey to know it’s not healthy to cling to the past. If looking at it prolongs your agony, I think you should consider clearing it out. There are plenty of charities you can donate the less personal items to. Maybe you can remodel the room for a different purpose?”
“Maybe,” I murmur, knowing she’s right but unable to contemplate even stepping foot in the room, let alone clearing it out.
“You should do the same with Reeve’s things,” she quietly adds. “I can help you pack up his stuff before I go.” Audrey is leaving to return to Boston in two days, and I’m trying not to think about how broken I will be without her.
“I don’t want to give his things away,” I say, climbing to my feet. Audrey stands, and I close the nursery door, heading toward my bedroom. “I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” She tugs on my arm as I open my door. “But promise me you won’t put it off indefinitely. It’s not healthy to cling to him, Viv. I know it will hurt.” Tears fill her eyes. “But it’s got to be done.” She glances over my head where my little boy is sleeping soundly in bed, occupying Reeve’s vacant space. “And E needs to return to his own room. I know he comforts you and vice versa, but he can’t replace Reeve, and you can’t become his crutch. He needs to process his feelings, even if he can’t put a name to them. You can’t shield him from that.”
“He’s doing much better,” I say, my tone more than a little defensive.
“All the more reason to get him to sleep in his own bed. Kids deal with things differently, and he takes a lot of his cues from you. I know you needed one another at the start, but it’s time, Viv.”
“Goodnight, Audrey.” It takes mammoth willpower not to slam the door in my bestie’s face. As I climb under the comforter and curl my body around my son’s sleeping frame, I know she is right. Like I know she only has both of our best interests at heart, but having Easton sleep beside me helps to lessen the pain. Is it wrong to draw comfort from that?
* * *
“Can we talk when you get back?” Audrey asks the next morning as I’m getting ready to drive Easton to camp.
“Sure.” My tone is a little cold, and I want to slap myself upside the head for being like this with my bestie, but my emotions appear to be ruling me, not the other way around.
“I don’t want to fight with you, and the things I said last night weren’t said to hurt you.” Her sad eyes drill through my frosty outer layer, and I thaw instantly.
I pull her into a gentle hug. “I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to be reacting like this, but it’s so hard to think about moving on even though I want to and I need to.” I ease back. “You’re my best friend, Audrey. I could not have gotten through these last few weeks without you. Thank you for everything, and I’m going to try.”
“You’re strong, Viv. You know you can do this. As much as I hate leaving you, I think it’s time. You need to fight to push through to the next level. You need to learn to start living again.” Easton comes bounding into the room with his little backpack on his back. “For both your sakes.”
She crouches down, doing a high-five with Easton before hugging him. “Have a great day, little man. I want to hear all about it when you come back.”
“We’re going hiking today,” Easton confirms with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Mommy bought me hiking boots. Look.” He lifts his leg, almost kicking her in the face.
Audrey chuckles, straightening up. “They are awesome boots. Have fun.”
“Bye, Auntie Audrey.” E waves as he clutches my hand with his other hand, dragging me out of the kitchen.
* * *
“Can Megan come over to my house after camp today?” Easton asks as I pull into the parking lot. He hasn’t stopped talking the whole journey, and it’s good to see him so excited. The familiar black SUV rolls into the space beside me. Leon and Bobby climb out of the car, wearing jeans and T-shirts, looking awkward as fuck. Turning up every day with our bodyguards looking like something fromMen in Blackwas drawing way too much attention, so I asked the guys to dress casually so we can attempt to fit in. “Mommy? Can she?” he asks when I haven’t replied.
“I don’t know Megan’s mommy, so I’ll have to check. She can’t come over today, but maybe one day next week.”
“Mom!” My son fixes me with puppy-dog eyes through the mirror, and it’s so hard to deny him, but I won’t let anyone near my house until they’ve been carefully vetted. I don’t trust any strangers who come into our lives. I hate I have to be like this, but I won’t take chances with my son’s safety. While there haven’t been any other incidents of kids taunting Easton, I’m not naïve enough to believe it’s gone away. I know people are gossiping and whispering behind my back. A couple of the moms say hello to me in the mornings, but most just stare, saying God knows what when I’m gone. I don’t give a flying fuck as long as E is protected.
I overheard Audrey talking to Mom on the phone this week, and I know I’ve received some hate mail from that crazy element of Reeve’s fanbase. They blame me for letting Reeve get behind the wheel when he’d been drinking, and they’re mad he risked his life to save mine. Yet they are hailing him as a hero at the same time. Apparently, it’s all my fault he’s dead and I should have been the one to die with my baby daughter.