The doors open and the fresh air smacks me in the face full force. Reality hits me.
She stops walking. Her eyes close as she presses her lips into a thin line before she speaks, “Gemma took her own life, Nash.”
“No,” I blurt out on impulse. “Gemma wouldn’t do that.” My head shakes. No, it’s not possible.
“She left a note.” Lori digs into her purse and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. “When you are ready, you really need to read it.”
My eyes dance from her face to the paper. She holds it out to me, and I take my wife’s last words into my hand.
I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to read this, knowing that no matter what this letter says, I am the reason Gemma is no longer here. She took her own life because I failed her.
“How?” I ask with my eyes dead set in front of me.
When she doesn’t respond right away, I ask again, “How did she do it?”
After a grave moment of silence, as if the people around us suddenly stopped walking, talking, moving, she responds, “She overdosed on her medication.”
Stopping in my tracks, I close my eyes and bite down on the urge to lose it right here.
She may have committed the act, but I set her plan in motion when I left her.
I left her.
Now she’s gone.
The morning sun peaks through the window as I stretch my arms over my head. I smack my dry lips together and attempt to swallow, though my mouth feels like I’ve eaten an entire box of saltine crackers. Still tasting the last drop of whiskey on my breath, I push myself up. The empty bottle falls to the side and the letter I must have held on to all night sticks to my sweaty bare chest. That’s when the memories of yesterday hit me full force. Like a tsunami. I snatch up the bottle and beg for more as I tip it back. One single drop slithers out and I take it on the tip of my tongue.
“Nash,” Lori says with a knock at the bedroom door. “I’ve made you breakfast.”
Lori has been so gentle and kind, but her presence and help is not exactly what I want nor need right now. I’d be perfectly content just being alone and drinking away the pain. She doesn’t seem to think that’s the best option. Gemma has never announced that her aunt Lori is a mastermind, so what the hell does she know?
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” I force out the words through my dehydrated vocal chords.
In an attempt to sway my decision, she tries again. “You need to eat. Keep up your strength.”
“Later.”
When she doesn’t respond, I assume she’s gone. Pushing myself up even further, I peel the note off from me. I can see the ink through the thin white paper. Her beautiful cursive handwriting peeking through.
I’m just not ready to go there yet. I’m not sure if I will ever be ready.
Her last email, every email she sent, ended with until next time. How will this letter end?
I should have called her. When we went into town, that was the plan. I never expected the ambush to happen. While we were under attack and I was fighting to save my friends, she was taking her own life.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand next to me. Reaching over, I grab it. Without even looking to see who the caller is, I hurl it into the wall in front of me. “Fuck!” I howl, fisting my hair into both of my hands. “Why did you have to leave me, baby?” I whisper into the air.
“Are you okay in there?” Lori reemerges outside of the bedroom.
I want to scream and shout and tell her to go home. Leave me alone to grieve in peace, but I know Gemma wouldn’t want that. Being one of her only living relatives, she’d want her here. It dawns on me that Rowan probably has no idea. I wouldn’t even know how to contact her.
Dragging myself up, I get to my feet and pull on a pair of gray sweatpants that were lying at the foot of the bed, then open the door. Lori is still standing there, concern written all over her face.
“Has anyone got a hold of Gemma’s sister?”
“Did you read the note yet?” She looks down at my hand that’s draped at my side.
I follow her gaze and realize I’m still holding it. Shaking my head, I grip it tighter. “I will, but not yet.”
Smiling through her own grief, she offers sentiment, “When you’re ready, read it. I think it will give you a good start to finding the comfort you will need in the days ahead.” With that, she begins to walk away. “Oh, and food and water never hurt. Maybe a shower.” She winks.
I imagine a shower would do me some good. I smell like I took a bath in whiskey. Stepping back into the bedroom, I shut the door behind me and walk toward the master bath. Grazing my fingers over Gemma’s jewelry box on my way that sits on her vanity, my heart aches at her absence. Turning around, I set the note down. Then I pick it back up.
Without giving it a second thought, I begin to read it.
My love,
The first time I saw you, I knew I wanted to spend my life with you by my side. You loved me through the tears, the pain, the constant battle in my head. You held my hand when I was scared. Talked me off the ledge when all I wanted to do was jump.
My leaving has nothing to do with you, or anything you could have done to prevent this. Ever since I was a child, living was a struggle for me. Each day felt like an impossible uphill battle, and every night, I felt myself slide back down. I can no longer burden you with my demons. I can only hope that once the ash settles, you find a way to move on and be happy. Whenever you think you feel me, you do. I will always be with you.
I know I’ve been selfish, and I do not deserve to ask for any favors, but I am going to anyway. Please look after Rowan. Now that I am gone, she has no one left, aside from Aunt Lori. We both know how reckless my little sister can be. There will come a time that she will need someone. Please be that someone for her.
Time has an unusual way of giving us exactly what we need, when we didn’t even realize we needed it.
Until next time,
Gemma
Xoxo
Chapter Three
Three Months Later
Brown glass shatters against the concrete wall and drops of whiskey trail behind, dropping on top of an eroded two-by-four.
“Damn, Whitmore. What did that bottle ever do to you?” Grant says as he walks farther into the garage. I didn’t even know he was here. Don’t even care that he is.
Kicking my feet up on an old tire, I sink further into the beaten up recliner that sits in the garage. “It ran dry, that’s what happened.” I crack open a can of beer and tip it back, letting the liquid slide down nice and smooth as it puts any emotion to rest.
“Why don’t you go clean up and come with me to Lulu’s Diner for some grub. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”
“I’ve got breakfast, lunch, and dinner right here.” I pat the cooler sitting to my right.
Grant has good intentions. Hell, he’s had the same good intentions for the past three months. The thing is, I don’t want to go sit at Lulu’s and shoot the shit. I don’t wanna go to Hooligan’s and share a pitcher of the light garbage he drinks. I want to sit my ass right here, drink until I pass out, and dismiss any thoughts of her.
He takes a few steps toward me, concern written all over his face. “Nash, it’s okay to miss her.”