Thomas burst into the room seconds later with Nick, his face determined, eyes focused. He expected this, waited for me to fall apart so he could show me how to be whole again. He gripped my arms, and sat down, pulling me into his chest. His arms wrapped around me; every move confident as if scripted; rehearsed.
“You’re okay,” he uttered, holding me in place. “I’m here.”
His cheek pressed against mine; his arms locked my frame, the purposely built cage like a straitjacket for the feelings eating me alive.
“He’s gone,” I cried. “He’s gone…”
Thomas positioned our hands on my sides, pressing hard, dominating me, my heartache and my vulnerability.
“The worst thing you can do now is hide the way you feel,” he said. “Don’t pretend for anyone’s sake. I can handle your pain, baby doll. I’ll hold you while you cry, and I’ll love you just the same when you stop.”
Words were stuck in my throat. My heart ached too much to melt at his words, even though those were the most beautiful words I ever heard anyone speak.
Thomas accepted my mourning; he accepted that I cared about Adrian regardless of what he put me through.
“Don’t hold it in and don’t put it off until later. Let go,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Now show me how it hurts.”
“Don’t pretend, okay? Drop the mask and understand that I love the darkness you hide underneath.”
I let the darkness in; I allowed the grief to consume me whole, to flood the deepest parts of my being. I squeezed Thomas’s hands while I cried the way I only cried once in my life… the day I lost my father.
Nicholas left us alone moments later, either unable to watch me fall apart or unwilling to interrupt.
Thomas held me for a long time. I stopped crying and wriggled out of his grip long enough to turn around, push him back, and climb on top of him. I rested my head on his chest, nuzzling my nose in the crook of his neck, eyes closed.
I wanted to fall asleep and wake up when the grief subsided, but sleep didn’t want to take me. It was dark outside when I sat up, my body exhausted and dehydrated.
I crossed the room and took a packet of cigarettes from the breakfast bar, heading out to the garden. Cold air introduced goose bumps to my skin the moment I sat down on the swing. It was nice to feel the cold, to feel something other than emptiness.
I slid my thumb across the screen of my cell and scrolled through the contact list down toT.The air smelled of dust and wet leaves, grounding me the way peppermint tea did for a long time. Smoke filled my lungs when I pressed the phone to my ear, staring at the blank, black canvas stretching high above my head.
“Hey, girl,” Ty breathed, “How are you holding up?”
Silent tears rolled down my checks at the sound of his voice. We were on the same boat, mourning someone who in the eyes of many didn’t deserve to be mourned.
“Why does it hurt so much?”
I clasped my hand over my lips, then made a fist and bit my knuckles to stop the sobs.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered close to tears. “He wouldn’t want that.”
“I just… I wish there was more I could’ve done to help him stay clean. He was doing so well! Why did he give up?”
“He had more support than he deserved, Nadia. We were there for him. It’s not like he was alone, but he couldn’t stop using. It wasn’t because he had no other choice. It’s because he didn’t want to fight.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat inhaling another cloud of thick smoke. “Did he leave a note?”
“No. I don’t think it was suicide, girl. He didn’t plan this one. It was an accident. He overdosed. It happens all the time.”
Doors opened behind my back, and I turned around to see Thomas approach me with a warm blanket in his hand. He wrapped it around me and kissed my head, then took a seat and lit a cigarette.
“Are you coming to the funeral?”
Thomas drew me to his side. The in-call volume on my phone was set to eighty percent, but the silent night meant Thomas heard every one of Ty’s words. I knew he would board the plane with me if I wanted to watch Adrian’s coffin being lowered into the ground.
“No,” I muttered. “I said goodbye to him when he gave me the ticket, and that’s how I want to remember him.”
If there was anything I owed Adrian, the one who understood he had to let me go, then fighting for the girl I used to be was it.