Appointment number three and I have to say, it’s not getting much easier. Though, I’m pretty sure the weekend with Conner is screwing with my nerves, easily complicating this whole situation.
“Dylan,” Dr. Baker calls, stepping into the waiting room. “It’s good to see you.” She extends her arm to the side, allowing me to walk past her and into the office.
Rather than the usual small talk, she gets straight to her pre-planned agenda. “Today I’d like to talk about what happened after Shane died. I think some of your problems may stem from that time.”
Blindsided by her suggestion, it takes me a minute to recover and digest her idea. “Tell me what happened after you found out about his death.”
“Suicide, you mean.” The sarcastic cynicism of my clarification doesn’t go unnoticed on her end.
She nods, “Okay, then. Tell me what happened after his suicide.” Nothing in her tone reacts to the nastiness in mine, making me feel all the more foolish for snapping at her.
Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I apologize. “Sorry.” She nods again, cool and collected, waiting for me to answer her.
Simmering in my own frustration, I bounce my leg in nervousness – or avoidance. “There’s not much to say.” She shoots me a look of disbelief. “Fine.” I return the look. “When I went home, I tried to see Reid. I tried to get to the funeral, but I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? How so?” Dr. Baker rests her elbows on the arms of the chair, settling back comfortably, as if she already knows it will be a long story.
The entire drive home, I kept repeating to myself that it couldn’t be real. Ignoring call after call from my mom and Reid, I knew that he was gone, but somehow by not talking to anyone right away, it made it less real.
The reality was just a delay of the inevitable. I pulled into my driveway, already feeling Shane’s absence. Mom stood in the doorway, arms hugging her waist as she watched me walk up to her.
“Mom,” I croaked, sadness thick in my throat. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shook her head. “No, no… it can’t… please tell me he’s not…”
“Oh, baby.” Sobs overtook her body. She extended her arms and pulled me against her. “I’m so sorry, but he is.” She whispered her words against the top of my head.
“It’s all my fault,” I screamed, pushing away from her. “He’s dead because of me.”
Mom swiped at her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It isnotyour fault. Not one bit, honey.”
The crippling realization of my new world – a one in which Shane no longer existed – weakened my legs, making standing impossible. I crashed to the step, the hard concrete scraping at my legs in the process. It was a welcomed pain, a physical bite I could deal with, vastly different from the emotional grief I couldn’t.
We sat there for a long time – though, to be honest, every minute felt like an eternity. She rubbed circles on my back and I cried on her shoulder. Even though she attempted to fill me in on the details of what she knew, I mostly blocked them out. They didn’t matter. He was gone and there was nothing I could do to change it.
“When is the funeral?” I asked, my voice a shaky mess.
She cradled my face, sweeping my hair out of my eyes. “Tomorrow morning.” She placed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Your father and I will go with you.” There was no point in challenging her. I’d need them by my side, anyway.
At night, I lay in my bed. Restlessness and gnawing pain made it impossible to sleep. The only thing that brought me any kind of comfort was the quiet lull of Shane’s voice on playing on an endless loop from my phone. I fell asleep with the phone against my ear, memories of Shane playing through my dreams.
When the phone rang, my heart lurched into my throat. Through blurry eyes, nearly swollen shut from crying, I somehow managed to make out Reid’s number. “What’s wrong? It’s two in the morning?” No greeting necessary.
“Whend’ya get back?” His drunken words slurred over the line.
I sat up in bed, scrubbed a hand over my face. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Not home. That’s for sure.” There was music thumping wildly in the background.
“I’ll come pick you up. Tell me where you are.” I shrugged on a pair of jeans and put on a sweatshirt. As I grabbed my keys off the desk, I heard him mumble something incoherent.
“Reid. Tell me where you are.”
The sounds of whatever party he was at moved in waves through the phone line. “Why did this happen to him? Why Shane?” His words transformed into yelled curses. When his fit of anger had run its course, the sound of retching came across the line. The phone hit the ground.
“Reid, pick up the damn phone. Reid. Reid!” My yelling was pointless. Footsteps approached my door. My father tapped lightly, “Everything okay in there?” He peeked his head in, a worried and tired look plastered to his face.
“Yeah, Dad. Sorry. It’s Reid. He’s drunk somewhere and I was going to go pick him up before he got hurt or in trouble. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“It’s okay.” His face turned into one of concern. “Let me get changed. I’ll go with you.”
