Page 30 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

My throat burns as I swallow hard around two ibuprofen, and I force a swig of cold water from my glass to usher them down. My whole body hurts and my skin tugs at itself and I curl up on the couch and will the thoughts in my head to stop racing.

I don’t sleep much anymore, and I can’t remember the last time I went an hour or two without crying.

Grandma Rose’s house sits frozen in time as I fail to make progress every day in going through it.

Empty boxes lean against the wall, just waiting to be assembled and filled, but I can’t bring myself to put away the memories.

The infancy of Clay’s and my marriage is a barrage of emotions I never dreamed of, and, I’m absolutely sure, neither did he.

He’s ready to live together, but he’s also been patient, and I imagine for a man with a personality as large as his, it’s been undeniably hard.

I know I need to pull it together. I know I need to find a place of solace and a way forward, and I know I need to stop putting us to bed by crying every night.

And yet, I can’t stop. I don’t know, at this point, if I’ll ever stop.

The front door closes as Clay comes inside and scooches in to take a seat next to me. Our legs brush and his hand finds mine, but I cannot mine up the compassion or consciousness to give anything more. I’m a shell of myself.

“I know it’s hard, but I can help you go through things if you want, baby.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I can.”

There’s a beat of silence as he formulates a response designed to do anything but set me off, and tears creep into my eyes yet again.

He pulls me into a hug, and I bury my face in his throat as everything overcomes me.

The wedding. Not telling Rose where I was going and missing the chance to tell her after.

Not being there for the stroke or for all the moments when they brought her to the hospital.

Not getting to say goodbye in any way that she’d actually know and not being able to make the new start to my life feel official by sharing it with her.

I know she’d want me to get off my ass and get over it. I just…can’t.

I pull back from Clay and wipe at my inflamed face, and he finishes the job with the pad of his thumb. “Maybe you should go to the doctor, Jose.”

“For what?”

He tilts his head gently. “You’re not sleeping. You cry every day.”

“I’m grieving!” I snap, even though I know he doesn’t deserve it. “For fuck’s sake, Clay, it’s only been three weeks since I had to bury her!”

“I know, baby. I know you are.” His voice is almost infuriatingly calm. “You have every right to grieve. But you’re not sleeping at all. And maybe they can help, you know? Give you something so you can get some rest, at least.”

My pride feels bruised and my heart overrun. I don’t know how to explain to him that I want to be left in my misery, and the stunted nature of my inability to communicate makes everything feel even worse.

“Just let me be!” I lash out, pushing him away and curling up on the couch. “I need the space to feel everything, and I don’t need you hovering over me while I do it!”

“Jose,” he says gently. So much more gently than I deserve. “I just want to help.”

“If you want to help, you’ll drop it!” I yell harshly.

Clay stands to his feet and walks away, and I curl into a ball on the couch. I tuck into myself just as the front door of the house slams, and I close my eyes as tight as I can get them.

Tears pinch through the clenched seams, and I let them come, giving my body over to the emotion until it finally puts me out cold.

…

I sit up with a start, looking around the fading light of my grandma’s living room and wondering if it’s all been a dream.

If she’s still with us, and Clay and I are only visiting to have some cake and gab about how magical it was to elope. I imagine she would be over the moon, despite not being there, and she’d be helping me plan a big wedding celebration to have in the center of town.

She’d help me pick flowers and have me try on my veil, and she’d kiss Clay on the cheek and squeeze him tight just like she always did.

I rub my hands over my face and look around the empty room. The house is silent, and Grandma isn’t washing her hands down the hall to get ready to bake the cake.

I suck my lips into my mouth and shove back into the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. I startle when Clay appears at the end of the hall, a measuring tape in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“What are you doing?” I ask, no tact or care or greeting at all.

I regret it immediately—I regret a lot of things about the way I’ve been treating him since Grandma died—but if he takes offense, he doesn’t show it.

“One of the hinges on the bathroom cabinet is loose. I was just measuring to drill some new holes.”

He’s not renovating to get me out of here, which I’m ashamed to admit was my first assumption. He’s fixing. Upkeeping. Helping. Goodness, I don’t deserve him.

“I’m sorry about before,” I apologize, my voice just barely over a whisper. “I feel a little bit better now that I slept.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he drops the tape measure and pencil on the counter and comes straight to me. He wraps me up in a hug full of warmth and love.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I understand completely.”

I lick my lips and pull away from his embrace slowly, crossing my arms at the rush of cool air that envelops me now that he’s gone.

I hate it, and at the same time, I crave it.

It’s a self-serving, completely destructive punishment of some sort, I’m pretty sure, but I don’t have the capacity I would need to figure out why.

“You’re right about the doctor, I think.

I should make an appointment to see if they can at least give me something to help me sleep. ”

His eyes are rich with compassion. “Do you want me to call for you?”

I shake my head. “I can do it.”

“I want to be what and where you need me to be, Josie,” he says, his voice tender as he grips my hand for a brief moment. “I love you, and I know you love me too. Let me know when you’re ready to let me help you.”

He’s doing everything he can to be there for me, and all I do is push him away.

I have to stop pushing him away.

Right then, I make a promise to myself and to Clay and to Grandma Rose, too. I’m not ready, but she’d want me to do it anyway.

“I’m going to try to let you now. I want to let you help me now.”

Clay pulls me into a hug, and I let myself savor the bittersweet of how good he feels. Things will never be the same, but they’re not supposed to be.

A world without someone you love will always be a little dimmer. The only way to survive is to hang out as close as you can to the light.

And for me, the light is Clay.