Still no dreams of Zuriel. It’s just another new day, one I’m expected to face.
I’m moved to the hospital’s rehabilitation clinic. The window in my new room is bigger, the room brighter. I throw the thick curtains closed and crawl back into bed.
I don’t speak much during my first meetings with my physical and occupational therapists, and with this heavy blanket of loss, it’s easy to downplay my strength. The entire hospital staff is already shocked by my quick recovery.
Days pass, and only Ella knows how recovered I truly am. She’s working remotely from my parent’s house, and she visits for a few hours every day. In her company, I don’t have to pretend. We don’t speak again about the gargoyle, but at least she acknowledges my grief.
The world has turned gray, and it’s more than the late fall weather.
Through the long dark hours of the night, I keep the curtains open, looking at the empty sky, searching for something, anything, I don’t know anymore. At times I catch the flapping wings of a bat, and my heart flutters, falters, and fails.It’s not him.Every morning another dawn comes, and I close the curtains, retreating to my bed.
All my life, I’ve been chasing a dream. Build the right career and maintain the right relationships. I’ve strategically stacked ‘correct’ choices, believing that happiness would follow.
And I had happiness, for a time, in the darkest of places. Everything was illuminated by his light, wrapped in the safety of his wings.
Now that he’s gone, now that I’m still here… I can’t see what happens next.
“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Ella asks, finding me at the window at four in the morning.
My heart sinks as I face her. She’s stopping by before her early morning flight. This is goodbye.
“Give my best to Rebecca, won’t you?”
“Of course.” She settles her bags near the door, her brow furrowing. “And you’d better not ignore my calls.”
“I’ll try not to.”
She joins me at the window. “Is this what you’re doing every night instead of sleeping?”
I shrug.
“Sleep might help you process everything.”
Sleep?How can I when I no longer dream of him? “I’m not ready.”
“Will you ever feel ready?”
I don’t answer.
She rubs her brow. “Sorry. That wasn’t a fair question. If I ever lost Rebecca, I’m not sure how I’d move forward.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Maybe you stop waiting to feel ready—you do what you can. Maybe some days it’ll be easier than others, and with time, if you don’t lose hope… maybe one day it won’t hurt so bad.”
Hope.
Hearing the word, there’s a flicker of light. It fades quickly, swallowed by shadows.
But it happened.
I’m still capable of hope.
Chapter30
Hopkins
Summer
