To everyone else, he was Frasier, Holmes, Fizzy. His nickname “Fizzy” was a nod to both his first name and the fact that he didn’t get shaken on the ice. He was known for keeping his cool. He didn’t get rattled when the opposing team chirped or made a shot. He ignored it or brushed it off and focused on the next play. But to me, he’d always be Bear.
I opened my arms, and he pulled me into his for a hug. His hair was still wet, and god, he smelled good. Distractingly so. Or maybe I was distracted by the way his T-shirt clung to his chest, stretching across his powerful muscles.
What is wrong with me?I wondered as I pulled back. I was ogling my best friend.
Georgia’s comments about how attractive Frasier was must have gotten into my head. At least, that’s what I kept trying to tell myself. But lately, it felt as if something had switched back on inside me. A desire to live and have fun. It was as if my libido had come back online.
My therapist said that was a good thing. She was encouraged by how I was processing my grief, especially the shifts she’d noticed lately. I didn’t disagree. Something felt…different lately. Lighter, somehow. Maybe it was that I’d survived the first yearwithout Derek—the first Christmas and New Year’s. Our first anniversary without him. My birthday and his.
Maybe it was the fact that I’d finally been allowed to grieve in peace. To get back to living my life and going through my routine without cameras constantly following me. I’d found my new normal, and Frasier was a big part of that.
Lately, my therapist had encouraged me to try to find more opportunities for fun, to seek out joy even in the small moments. She called them “glimmers.” I loved that idea, and I’d been trying. But sometimes, it was easier said than done.
I’d redecorated my bedroom, though I later realized that I’d been using the project as a way to temporarily fill the void and regain a sense of control. I’d revisited old hobbies, like dancing. I’d taken up new hobbies, only to later quit them. I’d even bought some toys in an attempt to shake things up and do some self-exploration.
But both the desire for joy and my body’s craving for physical affection and sex felt almost foreign at this point. As foreign as smiling or laughing had felt for months after Derek’s passing. But I’d learned how to do those things again. Maybe I could learn to enjoy myself again, and not just for the sake of appeasing everyone else’s worries.
My sister was still talking, and I continued to “mm-hmm” at the appropriate intervals.
I knew the wedding preparations were important to her, and I wanted to be supportive. But after everything I’d been through, it all seemed so…trivial. A wedding was a big celebration, yes. But it was also one day. A marriage lasted a lifetime—or at least, it was supposed to.
Frasier pointed at my bedroom, and I nodded, knowing he wanted to work on his latest project—installing a custom shelving unit in my closet. The dogs trailed after him, and I was eager to wrap up my call so I could join them.
“So…” Allie started, and I hated when she prefaced stuff. It always made me nervous. “This thing with Frasier…”
Crap!I glanced down the hall, praying Frasier was out of earshot. And then I stepped out onto the back patio, closing the door behind me.
I kept my voice low, hoping it didn’t betray my panic. “Please tell me you haven’t told anyone.”
No one could find out.
“Of course not. But… I don’t get it, Bryn. Why are you being so secretive about it? This is exciting.”
“I told you why,” I said, annoyed that she was pushing me on it. But also, annoyed with myself for lying. Frasier valued his privacy, and here I was, threatening everything. I felt awful that I’d betrayed his trust and put him in this situation.
“If I were you, I’d be joyous. And you can bet that I’d tell everyone.”
I should’ve been relieved by her support—not that Frasier and I were actually dating. But instead, I was angry. All I could think was,but you’re not me.And you have no idea how I really feel!
So instead of telling her the truth, I said, “I should go,” eager to get off the phone.
“Bryn…” She sighed. “Don’t be like that.”
Like what?I wanted to ask. But I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Sometimes lately, it felt as if she wanted to put a timeline on my grief. Like I’d been sad for too long. I’d become too much of a drag.
“I’ll see you soon, Al.”
“See you soon,” she said in a resigned tone. “Love you.” Her voice sounded small, far away.
“Love you too,” I said, ending the call.
I stared out at my small yard, kicking myself for how that had gone down. Why couldn’t she understand? And why hadn’t I just told her the truth?
I took a moment to collect myself. When Derek and I had first moved in, we’d been excited to have some green space, a garden. But it had languished since his death, and I was surprised anything was still alive. Despite my neglect, a few flowers had still decided to bloom, showing that growth was possible even when everything seemed bleak.
Something fluttered down from the sky, and at first, I thought it was a leaf. But when I looked closer, I realized it was a butterfly. I smiled, lifting a hand to my mouth at the sight of it.
Hi, Derek.
