Unanswered

Chapter: Cry. Wail. Curse.

Is it bad that I invited another man to stay and help me with something as personal as this?

Grimacing at that question suddenly popping up in my head, I tape the second of many boxes that need to be packed and ready for tomorrow. It's hard enough that I'm packing Nick's things to give away, but also, sharing this moment with someone else has me questioning my sanity.

He offered, and I know when to accept help when needed. Not all the time, but at least sometimes. And he offered!

I don't want to think how this would look from an outsider's perspective. Yes, Hero is another man. Fine, it is more than likely I'll offer him to stay the night. But—but having two pairs of hands than my one did heaps in the task. It's only been over an hour, and we're already in the last stretch of sorting Nick's things; our progress is pretty solid. Though that's without saying we barely exchanged words the entire time. He shows me stuff one or a bunch at a time and asks me where he should place them—either in the keep, family, or donate box—while I sort things on my own as well. It's not the most efficient way, but it does take my mind off shit like what's going to happen tomorrow when I drive up to Nick's family farm. At least until the next moment I'm grounded back to reality.

"This?"

I look up from where I slump on the carpet to Hero with his back leaning against the wall and his hand holding up an assortment of ties.

"Donate."

Nodding, he makes no move to toss the items into the designated box, and instead, he studies them, bringing them closer to his face. "He had a lot of ties," he comments. His tone is casually curious and low, as though he never meant for me to hear it.

A beat passes, a moment of hesitation before I share with him the first tidbit of information about Nick. "His father always gifts him a tie every birthday since he graduated from college. Though Nick never really wore them except for special occasions because of his work..." My lips stretch slightly as I drop my gaze to the hiking boots on my lap. It's almost as good as new. I got them for Nick a few months before his diagnosis, and he only got to wear them once. This is definitely going to be donated.

"His work didn't require a dress code, and he felt too restrained with a tie around his neck. But not once did he refuse the gifts his father gave him. Ben, his father, didn't even know they were just collecting dust in the closet."

From the corner of my eye, Hero folds the tie before tucking them into the donate box. That's my cue to get back to work. I place the boots in a new box before grabbing the next item to sort, which is a pair of boat shoes.

"He was a good son."

I freeze for a second before my chest expands, and a small smile lifts the corners of my lips. "Yeah. He was," I whisper. "And it's not just that. No matter who gifted him or whatever he received, be it a keychain from Thailand from his co-worker who went on vacation, an expensive designer bag from his mother, or an ugly ass shirt he got as a prank Christmas present from his college roommate, he kept them all." A soundless laugh shakes my shoulders. "As evidenced by all these," I say, gesturing to my entire living room. "He found every little gift or token equally valuable because they thought about him and went out of their way to buy those things for him using money they could've used to buy more useful things for themselves. He's that kind of person," I finish while folding said ugly ass shirt from Nick's college roommate.

It's a tattered black shirt with a printed dad-bod torso on both front and back. I hated it when he slept wearing this ratty shirt, but he'd cuddle next to me until we both fell asleep, and I'd wake up with that hairy chest print giving me a scare. That always cracked him up. Maybe that's why he really loved sleeping in it.

A deep, whistful sigh escapes me as I look out the window. It's dark out, but my living room is lit brightly by every source available. I should feel tired. I am tired, yet I can't bring myself to retire. To end this here and send Hero home. To be left alone yet again.

"He wasn't just a good son. Nick was..." A tidal wave of emotions suddenly floods me, and my voice cracks. Tears spill down my face before I even have the time to process what I'm saying, what I'm feeling. "The most wonderful human being. He wasn't perfect, but he never presented himself to be one. He was flawed just like me, I know he was, yet if you asked me to name one flaw, I wouldn't be able to remember even if my life depended on it."

A beat passes as I recall his all the things he did that made me fall over and over again. Of course, he did things that pissed the shit out of me every once in a while—I mean, I did shit that pissed the hell out of him too, so—but those are easily eclipsed by everything he did right and good.

"When I think about Nick, I don't remember the negative shit. I just remember him, you know?" Hiccup. "He was just Nick. My Nick. Fuck, I'm not even making any sense," I sob, dropping my face on both palms, burrowing in the darkness his non-existence has left me with.

"Do you..." Hero starts hesitantly. "Jo, do you need me to hold you?"

I shake my head almost violently. "Nononono." If he holds me now, I might just disintegrate into the broken pieces I so desperately keep myself from turning. Don't hold me. Let me just... Silent whimpers escape me still despite my effort to control myself. It's useless. There's no stopping this now. I curl into myself.

What am I doing? Why am I putting myself in this situation?

It's part of moving on—

Fuck moving on! It hurts to move on. I want to cling onto all the pieces that still hold Nick's memory. If I give them away, what will remain for me? What will remain of me? What?

"I can't say I understand how you feel, Jo," Hero says so close to me.

If I weren't too absorbed in my grief, his nearness might have startled me. Some time between him asking if I needed him to hold me and the downward spiral inside my head, he must have moved to sit beside me. If I weren't so desperate to escape from my anguish, I'd ask what's still keeping him from running to the hills. I'm a ball of hollowness, sucking in all the calmness that surrounded us a while ago. Even I wouldn't want me as company in my current state.

"I've never been in the same position as you, never had a love as strong as what you had with Nick based on what I've gathered so far, so I'm not one to tell you it's going to be okay. That it's going to be better. Because I literally don't know." He pauses for a moment while I sniff back more tears and snot, my face still buried in my palms. "I'm not helping you feel better, am I?"

I choke out an unexpected laugh through the tears. Shaking my head, I mumble, "You're really not."

"Sorry," he says rather sheepishly. "What I'm trying to say is... you can cry as much as you want, wail as loud as it hurts, curse the fucking universe and everything in it. Do whatever you think will release even the slightest of this pain you're feeling. Forget I'm here in the room. I'm not going say or do anything but sit here, just to make sure you're okay. At least physically."

Because he can't do anything about the hurt in my heart or the chaos inside my head, no one else can. It's solely upon me.

And so I do exactly that. I cry, and I wail, and I curse.

"It's fucking unfair!" Sob. "I miss him every day it hurts just to wake up knowing I'm not going to find him next to me..." Hiccup. "How am I supposed to give all of these away? These are all of what's left of him." Sniff. "I can't! I can't give them away. Can't give him away!" Wail. "Fuck cancer! Fuck the universe!"

Through this, Hero remains quiet. A solid block right next to me. Absorbing all the ugliness muffled by my tear-sodden palms and repeated until they are nothing but unintelligible mumblings of my broken heart and exhausted body. 

It's cathartic being able to voice this out to someone else, even if it's someone I've only known for a short time. My most selfish, most bitter, most toxic thoughts are now out in the open rather than permeating and eating away at my soul day after day.