“Can’t.” His voice holds conviction. “I try, but nothing comes. It’s like there’s a block now. Or my muse is dead.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
He sighs. “What’s worse? I was working on my own series before Graham died too. I have two books finished, and another planned. I had an agent and everything who was trying to get me published. But then Graham… and I just couldn’t do it anymore. It fell apart, like everything else. So I told my agent to withdraw my submissions.”
“Oh, Jordan.” My heart breaks for him. “That’s awful! You shouldn’t give up on it.”
“I’m not. I miss it. Truly, I do. Writing was a big thing to me for a long time. I have a notebook I keep trying to write in, but nothing comes. It’s not there.”
“It is. You just need to find it again.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
A white tail swishes just offscreen, like Clematis is lying beside Jordan. I wish so badly I could be in her place. I want to comfort him.
“Have you been able to travel at all since Graham died?”
Jordan goes quiet for a moment, his eyes misty. I almost don’t think he’s going to answer, but then he does. “I’ve gone to Joshua Tree National Park a couple of times, but only for a weekend. I wanted to watch the stars.”
“Then maybe that’s what you need to do. Go on a trip to get your muse back? Or to get yourself back.” When Jordan grimaces, I quickly backpedal. “I don’t mean that like you’re broken or anything. Please don’t take it that way. I do not and would never think of people with mental illness as broken. But clearly you’rebroken heartedand that’s different, hon. You’ve got to find a way to heal.”
Jordan’s dark eyes pierce like an arrow. He says nothing. But the eye contact between us starts to be too much, like I might fall to pieces if it goes on for a second longer. Or if it stops.
“You can come visit me,” I say to ease the tension. “I can be your test run to see how it goes. Salt Lake City is probably what, ten hours from there to here?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Then there you go! A day’s drive.”
“I’d do it in two.”
“Okay, two then. But still. There’s even an RV park by the hospital for families who travel here to see our specialists. I can look into it for you?”
Jordan doesn’t reply.
“Or not. I won’t push you.”
He hasn’t smiled at all, has hardly even embraced the idea, so I clearly should let it go. He probably wouldn’t want to come visit me, anyway. But maybe by mentioning it, I can plant a seedfor him. Get the ball rolling so he can try goingsomewhere. He needs to find his muse again.
“I hear you,” Jordan says finally. “I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
“I know. I get it.”
“No, I mean, I literally don’t know if I can. I’d need to talk to Declan about taking some time off. And then, I don’t know. Still…” he trails off.
I get what he’s saying even when he doesn’t say it. But people don’t suddenly become depressed, unless it’s situational like mine was. Jordan sounds like he’s had it maybe his whole life, so the struggle shouldn’t be new.
“How does your depression change anything?” I ask gently.
Jordan hesitates, like he’s surprised that I put the pieces together. When he speaks again, his voice is low. “I was only diagnosed about two and a half years ago. My treatment is fairly new.”
Oh.Wait, Jordan went that long without treatment? “What made you wait?”
He scoffs. “Pride? Fear? Denial? Fuck if I know. I was a mess, honestly. And I shouldn’t have ever considered traveling. Not alone, anyway. I could barely manage myself, let alone my life. I would’ve lost everything if I went.”
“Okay, but that was before. You’re getting care now, and you’re doing better, aren’t you?”
Isn’t he?I suddenly realize I don’t know Jordan well enough to be encouraging this at all. I shouldn’t be telling him to take time off or go on a trip across three states if he’s not ready for it.
