ASSUMPTIONS [H.S.]

chapter 55

Amber Easton.

October.
The 13th.

People say there are 5 stages of grief.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Grief can be applied to cases other than death — such as separations. At least my therapist says so.

Is it possible to not go through any of the 5 stages?

Because if I had to pick which stage I'm currently in, I would have to add a sixth one. It'd probably be called "dissociation".

Now that I think of it, I can't remember September at all. The month is just blank to me.

If somebody asked me what I did between the time Harry left for tour in late-August up until now, I could name only a few highlights of the month.

I can't remember if I went to work in the studio or not in September.

I can't recall if I had post-mates the whole month or went to the supermarket once to get groceries.

I do remember I had paparazzi following me on my way to the supermarket. However, I don't have a recollection of what I bought there.

I also remember all the headlines of articles reporting that my spot as a pianist has been replaced on Harry's tour with Clare. However, I don't have any recollection of what was written in the entire article.

I remember receiving phone calls from my lawyer and watching the trial of Nate and Hayley's sentencing for the crimes they did. However, I really don't remember how long they'll be locked away.

I remember going to my very first therapy session, but I don't have a recollection of what we talked about in that meeting and every single one that followed.

It's all very blurry.

What I do remember, is how Liv helped me move out of my old apartment.

It's only logical I couldn't go back to living in the old place due to the uneasy feeling of Nate's presence there.

I remember picking out the smallest apartment I could. I also know I bought it near the old apartment so that I wouldn't be too far away from Ms. Middleton.

At least she calls me every day. Actually, I don't think I've talked to my friends that much this last month.

Right now, I'm quite literally watching the dark paint dry on the walls of my new apartment, which still isn't furnished entirely.

I can't exactly pinpoint the name of the color the wall is painted. Maybe it's gray, maybe black.

I also remember leaving the colorful Crocs and sunglasses collection back in the old apartment. They simply had no space in this small place.

I start getting a little impatient with the paint because it's been drying for at least 54 minutes, and is still too wet to hang frames on the wall.

I can't help but blame Harry for the paint drying so slowly.

I blame exactly him because, if it wasn't for his necessity to split up, I wouldn't even have to be furnishing a new apartment and having to wait for the paint to dry.