I lay there, trying to settle my mind and to focus on something else. Anything else. Any efforts to get comfortable again were useless. It didn’t matter how exhausted I was; mybody wasn’t going back to sleep. And the more I tried, the louder my thoughts became.
Derek—alone in a hotel room. He’d just won a game and was staying on the opposite side of the country. I wondered if he’d tried to call for help or if he’d even been able to. I wondered if he’d been in pain. If he’d been scared.
It felt as if a fist were clenching my heart, as if my windpipe were being squeezed. I couldn’t…
Unable to handle it anymore, I slid out of bed and tiptoed over to peer out the French doors. I didn’t dare open them for fear of waking Frasier, but I couldn’t stay in bed either. I rested my forehead against the glass pane of the door, closing my eyes as I focused on my breathing.
I knew this was a bad idea. I knew I should’ve pushed harder for a separate room.But selfishly, I was glad Frasier was here, even if I was trying not to wake him. It made me feel less alone.
There was shuffling, and then Frasier said, “Can’t sleep?”
I continued looking outside, even as I sensed him standing behind me. “No,” I whispered, grateful he’d interrupted my thoughts. “Sorry I woke you.”
“Can I help?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if anyone can.”
I knew he had to be exhausted. We’d only gotten back from the bachelor/bachelorette party a few hours ago. But here he was, putting aside anything he was feeling to be there—for me.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, though it didn’t feel like it at the moment. That said, I’d been through this before—many times. It might not seem like it now, but I would be fine. “I don’t want you to lose sleep because of me.”
“Angel…” He placed his hand on my shoulder. His touch was warm and reassuring, solid and sure. He wasn’t going anywhere.
In the darkness, I found random thoughts spilling from my lips. “Do you ever feel like your body or your mind says one thing, but your heart says another?”
“I think most people experience that at some point or another. Why do you ask?”
“Because, lately, I feel like my heart or my body wants me to move forward with life, but my head will stop me.”
“Is that what’s keeping you awake?” he asked.
“Sort of. That’s part of it, I guess. My body is exhausted, and I know I need rest. But my mind keeps spinning, spinning, spinning.”
He slid his hand down my arm, and the touch was gentle and soothing. “Talk to me.”
I wasn’t sure I could or even wanted to. I hadn’t even shared some of these thoughts with my therapist. But I also knew not talking wasn’t working either. Lately, it felt as if I’d plateaued. I was stuck. I wanted to move forward, but something kept holding me back.
This trip was the first time in a while that I’d felt as if I’d made any progress. And then… Now…this.
I tried not to feel too discouraged, but it was disheartening.
“When I can’t sleep, it’s often because my mind goes to that night,” I admitted.
“I get it. I think about that night a lot too.” Frasier guided me over to the couch. He sank down onto it, tossing a blanket over my legs after I sat next to him. Then he grabbed my feet and pulled them into his lap. It didn’t matter that we were in Anguilla. Suddenly, it felt like we were home.
“I think about what it was like for Derek, in those final moments—” My voice broke, a tear sliding down my cheek. “And I wonder not only why it happened, why his heart gave out all of a sudden. But also why, of all the times it could’ve happened, why it couldn’t have been on a night when I would’ve been there.I’m a medical professional, for fuck’s sake.” I jabbed my chest with my thumb. “I have the training. If I’d been there…”
Frasier placed his hand on my knee, resting it there—heavy, reassuring. “Bryn.” His tone was full of both pain and sympathy. “What happened was awful, but no one could have saved him.”
“I hate that I’m even talking to you about this,” I continued, angrily swiping away a tear. “Because I know how much he meant to you. And the last thing I want is to hurt you.”
“You can always talk to me,” he said in a solemn tone. “About anything.”
I nodded. I knew that, but still…this conversation couldn’t be easy for Frasier. It was gut-wrenching.
The medical examiner had determined that Derek had suffered a sudden cardiac death. SADS happened when the heart’s electrical system malfunctioned, causing an arrhythmia that prevented effective blood pumping.
I knew it could occur with little to no warning. I knew it could affect someone at any time—during exercise, at rest, or, like Derek, in sleep. Just as I knew that it could result in death within minutes without immediate medical intervention. That was the point my mind always snagged on—immediate medical intervention.
