I was at my house on Belmead, when she knocked. I opened the door and she looked at me, unshaven and tired. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Can I come in?”
I stepped back and let her pass. She went as far as the living room and turned to face me.
“I miss you,” she said simply.
I missed her too, desperately, but I also resented that I missed her. Resented that she’d become necessary to me in some ways.
“I've been busy, Lyss.”
“Julian. Work isn't why you've been avoiding me.”
“I haven't been avoiding you.” I moved away from her, towards the kitchen, needing space. But she followed me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You'renotfine. You look like you haven't slept.”
“I said I'm fine, Alyssa. What else do you want from me?”
“I want to know what's wrong. I want to help.”
“Help? I think you’ve helped enough.”
Surprise mixed with what looked like fear crossed her face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I go with you to your grief group, and now I can't focus on anything. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about things that were better left alone.”
“You blame me,” she looked down.
“I didn’t say that. I’m just stating the sequence of events.”
She took a deep breath. “I-I’m sorry you are struggling Julian. That’s not what I wanted. But… don’t you think this tells you that you need to talk to someone? Clearly you have been suppressing a lot and this just exposed it. Now you can’t ignore it.”
I looked at her and apprehension crawled up the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”
She set a folded piece of paper on the counter and slid it toward me. “I did some research. Here are three therapists in the Lennox Falls area who are good. Really good. Individual not group. You wouldn’t have to do anything but talk to one person, once, just to see.”
I looked at the paper but I did not pick it up. “You won’t let this go.”
“No.”
“I told you I don’t need it. I told you that plainly,morethan once. And now here’s a list.” I looked up at her. “Why can’t you drop it?”
“Because I can’t stand seeing what this does to you, Julian. It breaks my heart.”
Standing there with that list inches from my hand, I felt the instinct that I had brushed away for a week catch on something and start to turn. “That what this is about? You pity me?”
“What? Julian, no that’s not–”
“That grief group…” I said slowly putting it together. “You walked out of therefine. Practically skipping to the car. I remember thinking it, that it was good. That it had been good for you.” I watched her. “Yet I haven’t slept since. I went there fine, foryou. So how is it that you’re left whole and I’m in pieces?”
She didn’t answer fast enough, thinking. “It was different for me.”
