I grab at my chest above my aching heart. What felt like almost losing Poppy a few days ago has dragged up so many feelings. I don’t think I’ve ever really grieved for Lucinda. Not properly, anyway.
But I know if I’m going to allow myself any chance of moving forward with Poppy, I need to let Lucinda go.
“I’ll never forget you, Lucinda,” I let out between sobs. “But I need to move on.” I try to take in a deep breath to slow the tears, but it’s not working. “To open my heart, like really open, I need you to release me.” I know I’ve been clinging to the memory of Lucinda in a desperate attempt to survive every day. But now, I have this overwhelming feeling that she’s trying to tell me she’s freeing me from that hold she had over me too.
Because the pain of whatever is being ripped from my heart right now has to be something big. It’s like I’m finally letting myself feel the anguish of losing my wife, in order to clear my path to the future. Giving up on trying to hold back the pain and sorrow, I finally let it out this time. The hands of grief are deep in my chest, scraping every single piece of my shattered soul that I had buried the night Lucinda died. No amount of therapy had managed to get to this agony and suffering that I’ve been hiding even from myself.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing under the spray, but my body is limp. Like there is nothing left inside me. I feel numb, with a profound sense of emptiness. If the last few days hadn’t taken every bit of strength I had, then tonight certainly has.
Squirting the soap into my hand, I wash my body like a robot going through the motions. Turning the water off, I reach fora towel, a simple chore that seems impossible right now. Still a little wet, because the effort to dry myself properly took too much energy, I climb into bed.
The softness of the mattress feels like I’m lying on a fluffy cloud compared to the lumpy “thing”I tried to sleep on in Poppy’s hospital room, because you couldn’t call that a bed.
I’m about to close my eyes, but at the last minute I remember that I need to set an alarm to wake up early. I have so much admin work for the bar to catch up on in the morning, and I need to attend to it before the boys even open their eyes. Reaching for my phone, I bring it in front of my face, the screen lighting up the moment I touch it. And that’s when I see a missed call from Poppy over twenty minutes ago.
“Fuck,” I curse as I frantically type her a reply, with some newfound energy I didn’t think I had left in me tonight. I don’t want to call straight up in case she has fallen asleep.
Landon: Sorry, I was in the shower. Are you okay?
The message dots are moving, then stop, but no message comes up. Then the dots are dancing on the screen again. Getting impatient, I’m just about to just call her when the message finally appears.
Poppy: I’m fine. Not important. Sorry I bothered you.
Before I even have a chance to reply, a second message appears.
Poppy: Have a good sleep. You deserve it.
Yeah, I’m not buying that answer. If she was fine, she wouldn’t have messaged me. Pushing the call button, I lay my head back on the pillow, putting the phone up to my ear.
“Honestly, I’m fine, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Her soft voice comes through the phone.
“You’re a bad liar. I can’t even see your face, but I know you’re not fine, Poppy. Talk to me.” Normally I would be uptight in demanding an answer, but tonight, I’m just not in a head space to be confrontational. Instead, I hear myself being as gentle as I am with the boys when they’re upset. A flashback of that night we argued about the car I ordered to take her home from the bar pops into my thoughts. I was an asshole the way I spoke to her, but I know now, it was because I was struggling with feelings she was stirring up in me that I had no idea what to do with. Maybe now that I’m facing those feelings, I can show her more of my softer side too.
“I don’t lie,” she replies.
“Well, then stop telling me what you think I need to hear. Call it what you want, avoiding or lying, it’s the same thing.” And just like that I sound like an asshole again. I wish I could see her, but I can’t do a FaceTime with her tonight. She’s used to seeing the strong version of Landon, and I’m far from being that man right now.
“I can’t sleep.” I hear the slightest quiver in her voice as she admits what’s wrong.
Five minutes more and I would’ve been out like a light, being so emotionally drained. But it’s surprising what a bit of adrenaline will do for you. The moment I saw I missed her call and that she needed me, I knew I wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.
“Is your leg causing you pain or is it your headache?” I try to run through the reasons why she can’t sleep.
“My dull headache that hasn’t left for days is still there, but my leg is okay so far.” She sighs.
“Well, at least nothing has gotten any worse. But I thought the exhaustion of today’s big move would’ve had you fast asleep by now.” It’s after ten pm, and we left the hospital at nine o’clock this morning. Plus, with everything that happened with her crew causing the panic attack outside the hospital, I just expected she’d be passed out by now.
“I was,” she replies.
“What do you mean?” I ask. But as I say it, everything falls into place.
“I woke up.” Poppy goes silent, but I wait her out. “I had a nightmare… again.” I can imagine her rolling her eyes right now.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She still hasn’t told me what her nightmares are about, but I can only imagine it has to do with the fire. I’m not pressing her on it. That’s something for her therapist to work through with her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
“Not tonight.” I can hear the noise of her moving around in bed. So, I decide to change the subject.
“How did showering and getting into bed tonight go. I’m sure your mom would’ve been fussing… a lot.” Hearing her giggle a little at my comment about her mother brings a smile to my face.
