Page 9 of Swimming in Grief (Monster Match season two)

Reuben

Glauruss didn’t have hair that I needed to hold as he vomited over the side of the boat, but I still laid a hand on his back in reassurance. At least I had a strong stomach when it came to sick people, so him throwing up didn’t make me feel sick. I was honestly not surprised it had happened. I don’t think he realized how much he had drunk while he was telling me his story, and the emotions it must have brought up would have been difficult for anyone to deal with, even without so much alcohol in his system.

Once he was done and had straightened up against the railing, I rubbed his back. “You need a drink of water?”

“Please,” he mumbled. I moved inside the cabin and over to the mini fridge to find a bottle of water and bring it back to him. He took it and sipped at it before turning to me. His eyes didn’t have pupils, but I could tell he was looking deep into my own. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

I just gave him a small smile. “Feeling better?” Glauruss nodded, sipping at the water again, his gaze dropping to the deck beneath our feet. His legs were shaky. “Here, lean on me, let’s go sit down,” I said. He looked uncertain, as he was taller than me, but he draped one blue arm around my shoulders and let me lead him back into the cabin and over to his chair. He sank into it with a sound that sounded very much like he was trying to stifle a sob. I hadn’t seen him cry yet, but I wasn’t even sure if sea dragons could cry. It was obvious the story and the memories of it haunted him, the way my sorrow over losing Kyle was hovering over me like a storm cloud.

Unsure if he wanted me to be that close to him in the moment, I sat back down in the chair across from him again, resting my elbows on my knees. There were so many things I could say, but I wasn’t sure if any of them would be helpful or even welcome, so I just stayed quiet until Glauruss finally lifted his head to look at me.

“I totally understand if you want to go,” he said softly.

“Why would I want to go?” I asked, tipping my head a little.

“I probably made you super uncomfortable with all of that,” he said, taking the tip of his tail in his hands and giving it a few nervous twists.

“I want to make sure you’re okay,” I said.

He nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor again. “I am. I’m fine.”

I very much doubted that, but I wasn’t about to contradict him.

“I don’t even know… why I asked you to come back,” Glauruss finally admitted, eyes still on the floor. “Why I felt like I needed to tell you all of that.”

“Have you told anyone else in the human world?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

I gave him a small smile, probably the same one people had been giving me for the past few weeks. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about grief recently, it’s that it’s very lonely. Even if you have friends or family, there’s still a lot that goes on internally that others can’t help with.”

“You don’t need the added burden of my sad story,” Glauruss said, looking up at me then.

“You’re not a burden,” I said firmly. “Not any more than I am when I talked to you about Kyle.”

Glauruss gave me a smile, a small one, but it held a spark of something that I thought might be hope. “Is it really all right if I talk about them?”

“Of course!” I said, my heart aching. “People seem afraid to talk about someone who died. It’s a weird thing we humans do, we just don’t acknowledge the dead, like that makes it all better. But it doesn’t. It just makes things awkward.” I barely knew Glauruss, but I knew that the hurt must be terrible for him, even after all this time. My own grief was like an open wound that just kept bleeding and stabbing me at moments when I least expected it. “Is thinking about Bogunn what drives you to drink?” I asked gently.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I know it’s not a great way to handle it, especially as a monster in the human world but… it makes the pain go away, just for a little while.”

“I think we all deal with grieving in our own way,” I said. “I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I understand that losing someone so precious to you so suddenly hurts like hell. And you’d give anything to make that pain go away.”

Glauruss finished his water and leaned forward in his chair with his arms on his legs like I was. “Yes,” he agreed softly. “Even just for that short time.”

“Do you like feeling that way?” I asked. “Like what alcohol does to you?”

Glauruss looked crestfallen, gazing down at his feet. “I like the pain going away, but I don’t like how I feel after. And I worry that I’m going to do something that will hurt someone, and I’ll just be a monster. If I hurt someone, not only would I have to return to the monster world, but all monsters could be seen in a bad light.”

As a black, gay man, I understood that feeling all too well too. “Do you want to stop drinking?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle. If he didn’t, then nothing I would say would be helpful to him.

Glauruss hesitated, and I could see a blush coming to his blue cheeks. He slowly lifted his pupil-less eyes to me. “Yes,” he said softly.

“That’s already half the battle right there,” I said, trying to keep my voice cheerful but not so much that it sounded forced. “I can’t say I’m an expert or anything, but I’m willing to help you as much as I can.”

“Really?” Glauruss looked so hopeful, his head perking up, and there was a new light in his eyes.

“Really,” I said. “There are resources out there. Meetings, counselors.”

Glauruss looked a little uncertain as he gazed back at me. “Have you ever gone through something like that?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “I was never much of a drinker, and my only drug use was some pot in college. Just wasn’t really ever my thing. But I did work with at-risk teens when I was younger, and a lot of them had substance abuse problems, or risks for it. And I definitely can understand the appeal of trying to numb your memories and the grief that brings.”

“Grief sucks,” he said, and I let out a huff of laughter.

“It really does.”

“It’s going to be tough for a few days as your body gets used to not drinking. Do you have someone who can be with you?”

Glauruss’ face fell. “No.”

“It might be better for you to check yourself into the hospital,” I said, not sure if he would be open to that idea or not. “They can help ease you through the worst of it, and I think they have some medicines that can help with the backlash.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “Will you come visit me there?”

I blinked at the sudden question. “I… Yes. Yes, I can do that. I can even take you there myself if you want.”

“Wednesday?” Glauruss asked hopefully. “I have a rental Tuesday.”

“I can take you Wednesday,” I replied, giving his hand a squeeze.

I wasn’t sure what would come of my offer to help Glauruss with his addiction as I headed home again. I supposed some part of it was pity for the sea dragon after what he went through, but, I realized, I didn’t want to pity him, nor would pity be helpful. We shared a pain between us, a pain that not everyone could understand. The pain of losing someone close to us suddenly, violently, of having that hole suddenly punched in our hearts that just kept bleeding and bleeding no matter how much we tried to heal it. Helping him by supporting his recovery was something I could do that would give me a purpose and something to focus on other than myself. He would have to do most of the work himself, but I could at least be there to encourage him and hold his hand if he needed. Sometimes, that was enough.