Illusion (18 page)

             
He is dead. Dead. Gone, forever. I'll never see him again, not ever. There is no promise of an afterlife, there is no promise we'll see each other when I also die. But the fact I might, it's almost enough for me to join that side of the spectrum. What really pushes me over the edge, is knowing I'll always have to live with this emptiness. I'll always have this pain, no matter what I do.

             
Is there a way to end this pain completely? Yes.

             
Is there a possibility I'll see Kirt again if I end my life? Yes.

             
Do I want to live my life feeling empty, like a piece of me is missing? No.

             
It may not be the best answer, but it's the only answer running through my mind, constantly.

             
Even if I don't see him when I pass the light at the end of the tunnel, I'll still be ending my pain and torture. I won't feel empty and lost. I won't feel anything. I like that thought, I like it a lot.

             
I grip the razor in my right hand a little harder than before. After finishing the last sip of my fifth of whiskey, I put the razor to my skin and look up. "Lord, I hate you." I know that is probably the worst sentence to say when you're about to end your life, but it's honest and I need to express all my feelings before I let go of my life.

             
"I hate the life you gave me. I hate the hand I've been dealt. They say you're oh so mighty, that you control everything that happens down here. So my question to you, is why the fuck did you give me such a shitty life?" I don't even feel like this is me talking. I've been through it all- the cancer, the infertility, the struggles with Kirt, and now, his death. It doesn't seem like much when you list it off like that, but living that life, that amount of torture, it's surprising I held on this long.

             
The reason I held on so long is the one last thing He took from me. My other half. My heart. My love. My Kirt. He stole Kirt from me, never to give him back. So now I'm chasing him.

             
"We all suffer, I get that. Without suffering and pain we can't appreciate the good. I understand that life goes on and things get better, I do. But this, I don't get this. You've stolen my ability to have children, no one will ever love me if I can't have their children. You've made me struggle and suffer, and I pulled through. I always did. I became stronger and I moved on. But that wasn't because of you, that was because of Kirt. And what do you do? You go and kill him!"

             
I laugh bitterly and dryly at that before I push the razor harder to my skin. Blood starts to fill around the medal of the blade and some of it flows down my wrist. A little of the dark red droplets land on the linoleum next to my leg. I watch it in complete amazement. I don't feel it, not like I thought I would. I start to pull it across my skin as tears come flowing down my face. They're the first tears I've cried in three whole days. I started to think I ran out, having cried for hours on end each day this week since the news of Kirt.

             
"So again, I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

             
I pull the razor more, causing so much blood to flow from my wrist that my head instantly starts to lighten. I feel dizzy but I can’t stop, not yet.

             
"Zoey, are you in there? What are you doing? You're not answering your phone!" Emi starts banging on the bathroom door. "Open up, I can hear your sobbing. Open the damn door, you're scaring me."

             
I drop the razor. Everything hits me, hard. My pain and suffering, it's nothing in comparison to what my parents and sister would feel if I ended my life. I lost the man I love, I didn't lose my family. A child, a sibling, my blood. I lost someone I spent thirteen years with, not someone I've shared my entire life with. I can't do it. I can't hurt my family like that.

             
What if I had done it? Who would have found my body? How could they have dealt with that pain and suffering? Would they have ended their life because I did? Wow. I can't even think that thought.

             
With my moment of clarity- as if someone dumped a bucket of iced cold water over my head- I look up to the ceiling, hoping God is still listening to me. I whisper ever so softly. "I'm sorry Lord. I am. Thank you for bringing Emi to save me." It was then I knew that he always had a reasoning behind everything he did.

             
"I said open this goddamn door before I break it down." I can hear the pain in Emi's voice. She is already scared I did it. I look down to my wrist where blood is flowing from. I was less than a millimeter from my vain, from taking that step. She saved me. I owe her everything. I owe her my life.

             
I stand up with a wobble and open the door. I can't hold on to anything so I end up collapsing into her arms. "Oh no," she gasps. Right here and now, I promise her silently that I'll never hurt her this way again.

              "You sure you still want to go?"

             
"Yeah, I'm sure, I'll be there soon."

             
"Okay, sweetie. I'll understand if you just want to sit home though." I'm so glad Meghan is understanding of the situation. I may not be the best of company, but I sure as heck don't want to sit in the apartment all alone, wondering over and over what went wrong and where Harvey went.

             
"No, that is the last thing I want."

             
She is silent for a second. "Okay, well, I'll see you when you get here."

             
I hang up the phone and take one last long look in the mirror. I managed to get my hair dried and pulled into a pony tail, and I got makeup on my face but it doesn't cover the bags under my eye. I still look pale, even with some blush and bronzer, and my eyes are blood shot even though I didn't exactly cry.

             
It's the best I can manage considering, so I spritz some perfume and leave the bathroom. I grab my purse and walk out the door, locking it behind me. I try for the thirty-seventh time to call Harvey but he still doesn't answer. I still don't get it. At least say goodbye to me! I want to yell and scream and break things, but I don't. I stay calm and collective. I continue on with my day. I've been through a heck of a lot worse, I can survive this eventually, too.

             
I meet up with Meghan who instantly wraps me in her arms. "I'm so sorry," she says quietly. I just shake my head at her, warning her I don't want to hear that right now. I just want to continue with the day. There is always a possibility of something- he had an emergency of some kind or something. You never know. Maybe he didn't actually leave me. Maybe.

             
She pulls back and wipes a tear from her own eye. Is it strange I can envy her over something so silly? The fact that I want to break down in tears, or at least I wanted to this morning, but couldn't. I wanted to sob into my pillow, kicking and screaming and cursing everyone and everything. Sometimes I hate this stupid medicine I'm on, other days I love it. It's kind of like my life- a love, hate relationship.

             
Meghan and I go get lunch together. I just order a cup of soup and some lemon water, knowing I won't be able to consume much more than that with my stomach so tied in knots. She orders light as well, probably assuming she'd feel guilty eating a feast in front of me. I don't tell her otherwise and I don't thank her, I ignore it and talk to her about what our plans are. She's almost as down as me about the situation, which of course, just makes it all the more depressing.

             
We end up doing a little retail therapy, which surprisingly makes me feel better about everything. Not great, not healed, but better. I spent more than I should have, and when my credit card statement comes in, I'll probably be depressed all over again, but as of now, I'm okay with that.

             
Before heading to the theater, Meghan and I drop all our bags off at my apartment, and I secretly hope that Harvey will be there, or that there'll be some sort of sign that he's been here, but there’s nothing. It's almost haunting. We go to the theatre, picking flowers up on the way, and meet with Ryan in the back. We both give her hugs, congratulate her, then we find our seats. She looks adorable dressed as a bridesmaid, as she plays the part of Lisa in Mama Mia.

             
After the play, Meghan walks with me back to my apartment. The cooling fresh air feels great and I realize it's exactly what I need. Everything about the day since meeting up with Meghan has been wonderful. I'm not sure what I'm going to do for the remainder of the night, but I'm thinking a sleeping pill may be in order. If not, I know I won't get any sleep.

             
She gives me a small hug before she walks back out my door. "If you need me, please call me." The worry on her face reminds me of Emi so much that it almost hurts.

             
"I will, I promise. I'm going to take a sleeping pill and go to sleep. It's what I need."

             
"Do you want me to stick around for a little while?"

             
"No, but thank you. I'll probably call my sister in a bit before I head to sleep. Thanks so much for today, I needed it."

             
"You're welcome." She steps out of the apartment and glances at me once more. "Will you be at work tomorrow?"

             
I nod my head. "Of course. I'll see you in the morning."

             
She waves as she walks down the hall and I close the door behind her. I silently pray before sliding the pills in my mouth that I'll have a dreamless night. I can't think about Harvey or Kirt tonight, it'll be too much.

             
I decide not to take lunch in the break room today. I look horrifying and I don't want anyone else asking me why. I've had enough people stop and ask if I'm alright today and I can't take it much more. It's nice to know people are worried about me, but in all honesty, don't people know when you ask a sad person if they're alright, it tends to make them break down more?

             
I text Emi to ask when her flight gets in and while waiting for her to respond someone knocks on the door. "Come in," I tell whoever it is, hoping it's Meghan.

             
It's not.

             
"Hey you coming to- Oh, are you okay?"

             
I look up to Brice and I can see the concern in his expression, as I heard it in his voice when he spoke. I look back down to my phone, not answering him, not knowing how to. I don't want to lie like I have been to everyone else, but I don't want to be honest right now either, because he'll ask me why.

             
The door closes and I take another glimpse, wondering if he left me alone or not.

             
He didn't.

             
He walks around the desk and kneels down next to my chair, then he turns it so I'm facing him. I can't help but look at him now as his looks up to me. "What is wrong? Did Harvey hurt you or something?"

             
I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know yet."

             
"What do you mean you don't know yet?" His voice isn't that soft tone anymore, it's almost like he is angry.

             
"I don't want to talk about it," I tell him.

             
His body tenses up just a little. "If he put a goddamn hand on you or you think he is going to, or if he threatened you in any way, you better let me know. I will kill him."

             
I put my hand on his shoulder to pause him. "Stop it, no, it's not like that." Although, it's quite endearing seeing him get all caveman about me.

             
"I don't understand then, what is the matter? What did he do, or are you not sure he is going to do… or whatever?" I can see him getting more frustrated. His hands grab onto my knees, almost as if that is the only way he won't go running out the door to find and attack Harvey. If it weren't for me being in such a bitter mood, it might actually make me smile.

             
With a long sigh, I lean my head back so it's resting against the chair. "Oh, Brice, I hadn't really wanted to get into this at work, especially with you."

             
The chair starts to wiggle then all of a sudden Brice is leaning over me, looking down at me with a lot more concern than he had just a second ago. "You need to tell me or I'm going to hunt the asshole down and get the information out of him one way or another."

             
"Well, when you find him, tell me please."

             
He starts to say something then he closes his mouth shut. He then backs away from me so he's no longer in my vision. "Wait, are you saying he... disappeared?" His voice makes it sound like the idea of that happening is completely ludicrous. Okay, that is probably because it kind of is.

             
I nod my head to answer him, not trusting my voice at this given second, but I do look at him to catch his expression.

             
His eyes widen and he grabs my hands, pulling me to stand up without any notice, then he wraps his arms around me. "Oh, I'm so sorry Zoey. Are you okay?"

             
I shake my head back in forth against his chest to answer him. He holds me a little tighter. "Of course you're not. That was stupid of me to ask." He sighs before he pulls away from me.

             
Grabbing my hand, he pulls on me until we're against a wall, then he sits on the floor, pulling me with him. He holds me like a young child over his lap, my feet on one side of his legs, my butt on the other, with his arms around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and his hand runs up and down one of my arms.

             
"I'm here for you," he tells me.

             
"I wish I believed you," I whisper back.

             
"Why wouldn't you believe me?"

             
My voice comes out hoarse when I reply. With all the emotion I have it's a wonder I can even form words right now. "Everyone leaves eventually." The fact I'm putting him in the same category as Harvey and Kirt scares me, but it's the truth.

             
His body trembles ever so slightly, just enough I can notice. "Your ex?" he asks.

             
I nod my head against him.

             
"Why did you guys break up?" his voice lax. We never got to that conversation at all.

             
Not completely certain if this is exactly the time or place to have this talk, I tell him the truth anyways, knowing if I don't open my mouth now and tell him, I may never. I like the idea of Brice comforting me right now, it's like I've been needing it all along but I hadn't realized until he wrapped his arms around me.

             
With a sigh first, I tell him. "He died."

             
He pulls me tighter to him but doesn't say anything. After a few minutes of a very awkward silence, I look up and see his eyes are closed. "Brice?"

             
"How?" There is so much emotion in his voice that it surprises me. He feels that connected to me that my pain is hurting him.

             
"He got deployed about seventeen months ago. Three months later his Humvee ran over an IED." My voice cracks at the end and a few tears manage to break through. It still isn't the cry I need but it's something. I enjoy the small amount of release.

             
His hand goes up and wipes at the tears. I hadn't realized he opened his eyes to look at me. "That wasn't that long ago."

             
Shaking my head, I tell him, "No, it wasn't."

             
"Harvey's the first guy you've dated since him?"

             
"Yeah."

             
"And he just up and left, without telling you where he was going?"

             
My body starts to shake just a little and Brice pulls me even tighter. I don't think he can hold me any more than he is right now. "He didn't even tell me goodbye. I just woke up and he was gone. His phone is disconnected and I have no idea where he lives."

             
"Wait, you don't know where he lives?"

             
I shake my head. "Just that it's on the East Side."

             
He closes his eyes again and presses his lips against the top of my head. He doesn't pucker them out, he's just resting them there. We both sit here for quite some time, not saying any more to one another.

             
I hear a voice in the distance but can't make it out. It's just there, talking softly. I move a little and realize I'm still in Brice's grip but I must've fallen asleep. When I hear his voice, I stiffen my body and keep my eyes close while listening the conversation that is apparently about me.

             
"No, she is sleeping right now. She probably didn't sleep much last night." There is a slight pause. "Yeah, I can be there." During this pause I can hear that distant, mumbled voice and I realize he is on the phone. "Yup, I'll bring her. I'll see you then."

             
There is no more talking so I assume he is done but I'm being selfish and want to be held just a little while longer. I continue laying against him, inhaling his scent, and feeling a little sad I can't remember quite what Harvey smells like. Or Kirt for that matter.

             
Brice's hand comes up and sweeps some of my hair away from my face. "Hey, Zoey, it's time to wake up."

             
Grabbing at his shirt, I pull him closer to me. I don't want to let go of him, and more than that, I don't want him to let go of me.

             
"Sleepy head, we're at work and it's been two hours."

             
I snap my eyes open and look to him, still not letting go. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

             
He smiles down at me. "I know, its okay. Meghan came in to check on you and I told her you fell asleep. She seemed to understand and said she'd tell Gemma you weren't feeling well."

             
I love how soft his voice is and the way he looks down at me. Everything about him is exactly what I need right now. Except the fact we're at work and I don't want him getting in trouble. "What about you?"

             
"I sent a text to Jason. He has more control over me than Gemma. I'm fine. I got the rest of the day off, you do too."

             
"Oh. Um, thanks."

             
"Let's get you home. Emi called, she'll be landing in about six hours. I'll drive you to the airport to pick her up."

             
"Thank you," I tell him. "For everything."

             
I force myself to stand up, even though my body is still weak, and he stands with me. "You're welcome."

             
After getting a few things from around the office, we make our way to the IT department where Brice gets ready to go, then we head out of the building together.

             
"Not feeling well?" Bob asks on my way out the building.

             
I give him a small smile. "Not really."

             
"Feel better Ms. LaRoche."

             
"Thanks Bob."

             
When we get outside Brice looks at me completely amused. "What?" I ask.

             
"He doesn't talk to many people. It's funny seeing him concerned about you when he ignores ninety percent of the people that walk in and out of this building."

             
"There is like fifty floors, there is no way he ignores that many people. He is way too nice."

             
Brice opens his passenger door and I slide in. He looks down at me before closing the door. "Only to the pretty ones."

             
We get to my apartment, not talking the entire way there. Brice walks inside with me. "Do you want me to stay or do you want me to come back in a little while?"

             
Feeling odd, I ask him to stay and he closes the door. I go into my room and change into baggier, comfy clothes, then I go into the bathroom to take a look at myself. I have to fix some eyeliner that got smudged, but besides that I don't look any different than this morning.

             
In other words, worn out and disheveled.

             
I walk back out into the living room and spot Brice in my kitchen, creating something for us to eat it looks like. He walks over with some vegetables and ranch dressing, then sets the plate down on the coffee table. "You need to try to eat something. I figured this was better than most of the things you have in the fridge."

             
"Thanks," I tell him, taking a seat on the couch.

             
"Mind if I use the restroom?"

             
I shake my head no and take a bite into a sliced cucumber.

             
When he comes back out, he has one of my prescription bottles in his hand. "You take this?" he asks me.

             
"Seriously?" I raise my voice. "Do not go through my things." I feel very defensive all of a sudden. I don't think he realizes quite how embarrassing it is for me to admit I'm dependent on medication.