“What about your family? Did you think about how they would feel after you died? No wonder your family doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Her mouth falls open, and I know I’ve hurt her but I can’t seem to stop my words from tumbling out. Everything I want to say is getting jumbled by the emotion I’ve buried deep with my mother’s death.
“I can’t believe this.” I push off the couch to stand, and Wilbur jumps off with me, wagging his tail like we’re going on a walk.
Phoenix muffles a sob and follows me into the hallway. “Wait. James, please don’t leave. Let’s talk about this.”
“Talk?” I spin around. “How can you expect me to stay after what you just told me?”
“I… I don’t know. I understand this brings up a lot for you, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“No, youdon’tunderstand. You don’t have a fucking clue. Do you know why? Because you aren’t the one who was left by choice. You’re the one who made a selfish decision that affected everyone else in your life except you. You hurt everyone who loved you, and you told them that they didn’t matter enough.”
“I didn’t mean to! That’s not how depression works. It’snota choice.” She chokes out the next words. “Do you think it was a happy moment for me? That I relished in the thought of dying? Because suicide wasn’t me telling them thattheydidn’t matter—it was me telling them thatIdidn’t matter. I was drowning, James. I was alone, and I was drowning. And obviously, your mother was too.”
Is that how my mother felt?It kills me to think of her feeling so hopeless when she had all of us here, supporting and loving her. Her limp body hanging from the noose around her neck flashes through my mind, and I picture Phoenix in her place. Cold and dead. This beautiful soul gone forever.
I stab the air with my finger. “You could’ve done better. You could’ve tried harder. Anything! You could’ve done anything except for killing yourself. How could you even think of doing that?” My own cheeks are wet now as I toss the words at her like daggers. “Phoenix, I can’t be with someone like you.”
She wraps her arms around herself like a protective shield. “You mean someone like your mother. Someone with depression.”
“I already lost one person, and I won’t put myself in that position again.”
“I am not your mother. I was lucky to be given a second chance, and I got help. I go to therapy, and I take my medication. I won’t allow myself to get to that place ever again. I won’t—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head and yank open her front door. “I can’t do this.”
She wipes her tears with the backs of her hands and squares her shoulders. “So you’re punishing me because of one mistake I made.”
I step onto her porch and dig my heels in as deep as I can. “There are some things you can’t undo.”
Leo opens the door to the garage and stares at me. “What’s your deal? You’ve been in here beating the hell out of that bag for over an hour.”
“Fuck off.” My arms burn, but I keep throwing sloppy punches at the hanging bag.
“You fuck off. Dad’s worried.”
“Dad’s always worried.”
“Yeah, but he’s never worried aboutyou. Something happen at work?”
“I said fuck off. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He walks into the garage and stands behind the bag like he’s going to hold it for me, but he pulls it back as I swing. I falter and brace myself against him so I don’t fall to the ground.
I shove him hard. “Don’t fuck with me, Leo. Not now.”
He bounces back and forth, wearing a dumb fucking smile. “Come on. You want to fight? Let’s fight.”
“I’m not fighting you.”
“You know you want to.” He smacks me in the back of the head. “Come on. Give me one good punch.”
“Leo.” I shoot him a warning glare as I start to walk away.
He sticks out his foot and trips me, and that does it. I whirl around and swing my fist, connecting with his jaw.
The fucker laughs. “There you go. Feels good, doesn’t it?”