loïse madden
. . . . . .
"Have you ever felt so low in life, so aimless, so lost? So desperate that you stop believing in all that could possibly be up there? That the angels, the gods, nature, universe, anything that could be causing you to feel this way and get better just feels like it's disappeared? Vanished, swooped away to some other planet, place, person who now gets the same feeling of emotional luggage that you've been carrying for the past time?
Because I have. Or at least, that's how I see it. That's what's making me feel at least that tiny bit better about the situation. I like to believe that during some times, the angels leave you alone, set you free on your own feet to watch you fall and get up after. I believe that I'm carrying the emotions someone else used to feel. But now that that someone else is feeling better, their feelings get blown away by a gust of wind and they catch onto the first person they come across.
Me.
I'm in the deepest well right now, trying to find my own way out while leaving my pain in here. Trying to look for some sort of stairs, holes to put my hands and feet in, without anyone who can help me out of here. All on my own.
I've never felt lonelier, even though I've never had this much people around me. To help me find the stairs, the holes.
But they don't see it like I see it. My mother calls me everyday to check up on me, while she's grieving on her own. She tells me that this is fate, the universe. But I don't see it like that. I see it as the biggest mistake the doctors could have made when they said there was nothing they could do.
My boyfriend tells me he understands how I'm feeling, he does everything he can to help me get out of this dark well quicker. But I don't know if I want to leave. What if I like it here?
My friends want me to process everything at my own pace. They are sure of the fact that I'll get better soon, that everything will be just fine. Even though I know now that it won't be fine ever again. Everytime I think of what happened to my dad again, I'll feel the same anger build up as to why fate wasn't good to him. That anger will never leave me.
But maybe it will take up less of my body in a while, when I'm starting to adjust to the darkness of this well, when I start to look for an escape. Maybe that's when I'll do anything to get out.
I remember when my father would compare anything in my life to painting. He knew I liked to paint. When my cat died, he told me she had finished painting her life. Every single detail in her painting was so perfect, so beautiful that she didn't want to paint it anymore. She just wanted to leave it like that. Because it was perfect. Sometimes, had he said. Sometimes it's better to end things early, when they're still beautiful, than to exploit them until you don't even like them anymore.
I had never understood it. I still don't. But I get it a little bit more now.
My dad's painting could be compared to a tent in the middle of the most beautiful woods you could ever imagine. The leaves wouldn't be dark in fall, the trees wouldn't be bald during winter. It was always summer in his painting, in his life. The tent would be filled with all his favorite memories, people, things and ideas.
My mom would be in there, our holidays together. And hopefully me, too.
But without my dad, the tent wouldn't be as much fun to be in. I'd want to leave, go inside the woods to look for him.
Now I know that I will never find him in there anymore. Because he's no longer here. But I'd find him in so many other things. I'd look for him in the colors of the leaves, in the memories that are with us in the tent. I'd search him in the small river, during Christmas under the tree. I'd find his signals in the sunrays, on the beach, on his bicycle that he loved so much.
Because even though he may not be here physically, I like to believe that I can find him in so much more."
I look up, straight into the eyes of the person I love. Sebastian. He's smiling at me, softly. Trying to tell me that I did good. His eyes look proud. My mom's eyes are red-dimmed from crying, she tries to wipe her tears away. She doesn't have to, is what I want to say.
I just read my whole speech in front of all people who are attending my dad's funeral. I cried, of course I did. But I didn't feel like wiping my tears away. This was my dad. They don't expect me to bring this without emotion.
The priest lays his hand on my shoulder, as if he wants to tell me I need to return to my seat. I do, I sit down next to Sebastian who squeezes my leg. He doesn't say anything else and I'm thankful for that.
I don't want to hear him say anything or I'll break down crying. I don't know how I got through this day, I only know that it's over soon and when we get back to the hotel, I won't be holding anything back.
"I love you", I whisper. To Sebastian, to my dad, my mom. Everyone stands up after the priest has said the last few words of the funeral. We get in line to walk out of the church.
The afternoon breeze hits my bare arms. It's a week until Christmas, my favorite holiday. The first since my dad passed.
Sebastian puts his arm around me and brushes his hand over my arm to calm the goosebumps.
Everyone gets ready to say their goodbyes to me, my mom and my dad's parents. My mother is staying with my grandparents for a few days, until me and Sebastian will be staying at my childhood home for a week.
He has never met my parents before, I realise. He never saw my dad. He never will.
After half an hour, almost everyone has left. I'm dying to leave my grieve and pain in here and drive back to the hotel.
"I loved your speech", my mom suddenly speaks. "It was beautiful, just like you."
"Dad deserved it", I tell her. My mom sighs and wipes under her eyes.
"He did, sweetie. He deserved more than the ending he got."
I nod my head. I want to leave. This pain, my mom's sadness radiating off her body: it's too much. I inhale sharply.
"I- I think we have to go now", I say quietly. Mom nods softly.
"I understand, my love."
"We'll see you next week", I promise. "We'll have a memorizable Christmas together."
"We will. I love you", she hugs me tight. I don't want to let go.
Sebastian and my mom say bye and eventually, we get in the car finally. I let out a relieved sigh. When Sebastian gets in, he doesn't start the car immediately, that pisses me off.
He looks at me and through the side of my eye, even though I'm not looking at him. That pisses me off too because he needs to get out of here.
"Can you start the car please?", I ask eventually, raising my eyebrows.
"Yeah, sure." We drive off, finally. He can't keep his eyes on the road, darting them from me to the steering wheel constantly.
"I loved your speech", he says eventually. "It was beautiful."
"Thank you", I whisper back. I keep staring out of the window, for some reason it calms me. That is until I hear Ophelia from The Lumineers on the radio. The tears spring in my eyes again.
This used to be my dad's favorite song. We would always sing it together in the car. The nostalgic feeling brings so many beautiful memories back, but they don't seem happy right now. It doesn't make me feel better at this moment.
"Can you pull over?", I ask, trying to keep my voice stable.
"What? Why-"
"Please. Just pull over", I repeat. He drives the car aside from the road, on this parking next to the highway.
A highway shop, that's like... exactly what I'm needing right now.
"I'm gonna get some Sour Patch kids", I say, already opening my car door.
"Wait Loïse- why'd you have me pull over?", Sebastian frowns in concern.
He cares, I remind myself. He cares about me and how I'm feeling and that's why he's asking questions.
The only problem is that I just can't deal with them right now.
"Because I wanted to get Sour Patch kids", I lie. "I'll be back in a minute."
I get out of the car before he can even attempt to ask more draining questions. He knows how I'm feeling. He went through all of this too. He didn't have anyone to care for him and ask him questions, which is why he's trying to help me with them.
I love him. Like, really love him, I think when getting us three packs of candy and a bag of popcorn for Sebastian. Because I love him. And because I'm happy that this day is over.
I pay and go back.
"I brought popcorn for you. Sweet, as you like them", I smile. He frowns like he can't believe I was just about to lose it a few minutes ago and now I'm back, smiling and acting all happy.
"Thanks", he speaks. "Why did you buy them? You didn't have to."
"Because I love you", I simply say. I see the corners of his lips tug up in a cute smile.
"You know, I actually didn't want you to pull over for these Sour Patches", I admit. "The song that was playing- it was my dad's favorite. And I couldn't bear hearing it today."
"I understand", Sebastian says softly, offering me some of his popcorn which I happily take.
"Where do you think he is now?", I ask.
"Hm?"
"My dad? In heaven? Or absolutely nowhere at all?"
"I don't... know, I think", he shrugs, having a hard time finding his words. "I like to think that my mom is in heaven where there's a swimming pool and unlimited cocktails. 'Cause that's what she loved. So hopefully, your dad's there too."
"He wouldn't be at a swimming pool", I chuckle. "He would rather live the rest of eternity in the mountains with his bicycle and a pair of hiking boots. With a bottle of water and a huge bag of salt chips in his backpack."
"Really? Your dad was a hiker?", Sebastian laughs.
I nod. "He'd always want me to join him on these hikes but I never wanted to."
"Why not?"
"That would require another pair of hiking boots and all that material. It was too expensive", I shake my head. Sebastian drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in for a tight hug and a kiss on my forehead.
"I'll take you on as many hikes as you want, then."
I smile into the embrace. How is it that he still can make me feel a tad bit better during this horrible day?
. . . . . .
I plop down on the bed as soon as we walk into the hotel room. Today drained me and I can't wait to sleep.
"Want to order something?", Sebastian offers. I nod my head, still closing my eyes.
"Pizza?", I ask.
"Fine by me."
"Okay, I want the biggest Capricciosa they have", I tell him as he dials the number of room service.
"I don't think their menu is that bright, baby. On the card, it says they only have pepperoni, cheese, and oregano."
I open my eyes instantly. What kind of hotel is this?!
"We could go out for dinner, too. If you're feeling well", Sebastian shrugs. I think about it. Staying and watching a movie is fun and stuff, but I'm also kind of in the mood to go outside.
I'm not in the mood for anything actually.
"Pasta?"
"Arrabiata, carb-"
"Great, I'll take that one. The carbonara with lots of sauce."
"Okay", Sebastian chuckles. He calls and asks for the pasta and two pizza's for him.
In half an hour or so, room service is already at the door. As soon as I hear a knock, I get up to open it, starving from hunger.
"Good evening", the waiter/hotel worker/receptionist/whatever says. "I have a pasta carbonara and two oregano pizza's for", he takes a look at his phone-thingy, "Sebastian and Loïse Hayes? That right?"
Hayes. Of course. I must admit, Loïse Hayes doesn't sound all that bad.
"Yes, that's right", I say. He rolls the little stall inside our room. "Thank you..."
I take a look at his name tag.
"William", I swallow hard. Of course his name has to be William.
"Have a nice evening, Miss", William wishes me before walking out. I don't bother wishing him one too, as I'm too shaken up from him having the same name as my dad.
I would've found this funny a few weeks ago. Right now, all it makes me want to do is cry and throw my hot pasta in his nice face.
"The food's here already?", Sebastian asks, walking out of the bathroom. Little droplets of water are decorating his entire upper body, as he's walked right out of the shower. His towel hides the rest of his body.
"Yeah, it- someone brought it up", I tell him, biting my lip to stop it from wiggling.
What's wrong with me?! Ten minutes ago, I felt fine. And here I am now: trying to hold my tears again.
"Everything alright?", Sebastian asks, concern clearly readable in his eyes. "Is something wrong with your pasta?"
"N-no, it's fine. It's just... the man who brought the food, uhm- his name was- was, uh, William", I say quickly. Sebastian's face changes as realization hits him.
"Oh", he walks over, looks at me. I proceed to stare at the ground. He kisses my forehead. Then my cheek, then my nose.
"You look beautiful", is all he says. Not what I expected him to say but I guess it does the job of getting a small smile on my face.
"Even more pretty when you smile", he kisses my lips. Hugs me after. "I love you, okay? You know that, right?"
"I love you too."
"Let's eat. Grey's Anatomy, hm?", he offers, stroking my hair gently. I nod my head slowly, then get on the bed, undoing myself of the uncomfortable dress I was wearing. I take off my bra and change into one of Sebastian's shirts.
It smells like him.
When will I forget what my dad smelled like? How he sounded? What he looked like?
I lean on his shoulder while I watch Meredith Grey absolutely burn the whole hospital down with her badass-ness.
Hopefully, I'll be like her one day. A badass, rich surgeon with a hot husband.
Sebastian Hayes.
. . . . . .
Sorry for not updating very often, but I've been really busy with school and stuff :(.
Anyways, here's the newest part: Loïse's dad's funeral. My heart's on the floor right now, I'm crying and sobbing and wishing I'd have my own Sebastian Hayes.
Thank you so much for all the votes! :)
-A.