The Unexpected Path

Chapter 33 - Jaxon

Acceptance is the enemy. It turns a feeling or thought into something real and tangible. Feelings and thoughts belong to you but when you've accepted them, they're out there in the world and you can't take it back anymore. I can pretend Emily is alive right now. I can. But as soon as I walk out of here and watch them bury her, I can't lie to myself anymore. Maybe that's why I've been locked here for the past half hour. Acceptance is the enemy but denial is a drug. I'm addicted to pretending Emily is right here with me. I don't want to give that up. I'll deny it for as long as I can.

But I don't really get the chance. My stomach sinks painfully when there's a knock on the door and I jolt like I was burned. The thing about denial is it lets you sit in your own little bubble, protected from reality. When reality comes knocking, desperation seizes you. I'm ashamed to admit I'd do anything to jump out that little window up there, run away, and never look back. I know my kids need me. I know my friends are mourning too. But a small part of me just doesn't care anymore.

What would Emily think of me if she saw me like this? She's counting on me to be strong and hold everyone together. Hold myself together. She trusted me to do this and that's the only reason I dig deep inside and find what little strength I have left to unlock the bathroom door. I'll be damned if I break her trust even if she's not here. Especially if she's not here.

My father-in-law walks in and he looks no better than me. He simply sinks to the floor next to me and stares ahead with hollow eyes. I have no doubt the small and cramped space reeks of vomit but he doesn't seem to notice. I'm jealous of how numb he looks because I want to feel like that again. It didn't last nearly long enough.

As I stare at him, I can't help but focus on the one thing pushing at the forefront of my mind, even though it's the last thing I should be thinking of. "I hate you for moving on from Laura. I hate you for finding someone else when you lost your wife just like this. If you felt even a fraction of what I feel right now...fuck you, Greg."

He nods once. Doesn't reprimand me or put my ass in check like he's been doing for over two decades. He simply stares ahead and I have to wonder if he even heard me.

"I'll never find anyone else," I fill in the silence with a harsh whisper, my throat knotting painfully. "I'm not like you. There will never be anyone else for me."

He nods again. His patience reminds me he's the only one who can possibly understand what I'm going through right now. I think I'm also hiding out here because I don't want to hear jack-shit from my friends. I don't want to hear that they understand, that they know what I'm going through, that I'm going to be okay. They can't fucking know any of it. But Greg can. Probably more than me. He lost his wife and daughter to breast cancer, so if anyone can know what I'm feeling right now, it's him.

"Sorry," I whisper after a minute. "That was fucked up."

There's no nod this time. Instead, his arm comes around my shoulders and he grip me tightly in place. Whether it's to anchor me or himself, I don't really know.

"We lost our girl," My voice shakes. Whatever semblance of strength I have left...it's gone. A guttural sob rips out of me and pain like I've never known it stops my heart. "She's gone. She's gone, Greg. She's fucking gone."

I fall against him, showing a level of weakness I'd never allow myself to under any other circumstance. But I don't fucking care anymore. I don't care about pride or ego or being strong. I just want my wife back. God, I'd do anything to have her back. The helplessness I feel is even more painful than the loss. There's no answer or solution here — this is something I'll just have to live with.

"I can't do this." My sob is accompanied by a deep groan because my stomach physically hurts from all the crying. "I can't go out there and watch them bury her. It's too soon. I'm not fucking ready."