The 18th Floor

Chapter Seventy Three

I wake up the next morning with a crippling feeling of anxiety. My hand searches for the warmth of Lucien's chest but I'm greeted by emptiness. I check the time to see it's still early, 8am on a Sunday and he's already out of bed. Sundays are our lie in days until I have to go to therapy at 1.

Therapy. I feel like I could really do with it today but also can't muster up any of the energy to go. I feel the crushing sensation weighing down on me even more than usual and it only makes me feel worse. I was doing so well. I was being so good lately and now I feel the emptiness creeping back up. This void in my chest.

Despite the years of therapy, I can never describe the feeling. It's like everything and nothing all at once. All the pain and anger and grief in a jar that's empty but weighs everything imaginable. If I could just open this jar, I would feel so much better, but I can't. It will never fully open. Maybe one day it might open, it might break, but then, I don't know if that would be better or worse. Everything inside of me shattered and broken.

Its only when I hear our bedroom door click open that I realise I've been crying. "Cyrene?", I hear him ask slowly before nestling down next to me in bed. He pulls me to his lap; I let him.

"Hey, hey", he says as he strokes my hair. "What's going on darling?"

"I don't know", I tell him between sniffles. He pulls me in closer. My head resting in the crook of his shoulder made perfectly for me. He smells like lemons and the rain as he lets me cry in his lap, one of his fingers tracing circles and the scars on my back.

"I've never seen them", I say quietly.

"Never seen what?"

"The scars", I admit and I feel his breathing stop for a breath longer than need be and his finger pause mid-air. "After all the surgeries, I made the nurse take a photo and show me. When all the scars were new and fresh. I haven't seen them since. I don't look at my back. I don't want to be reminded that I can sit up thanks to metal poles in my spine."

"I think they're beautiful", he says softly.

"I had 12 operations after the accident. I don't remember most of them. By the last one I remember thinking I hope I don't wake up", I say in the same breath he says my name.

"Cyrene. Where is this all coming from?", he asks as he cups my face to look at me. Really look at me. Worry etched along his brows and dulling the soft glow in his eyes.

"I'm tired Lucien. I'm so tired", I say and before I break down even more. I don't even know myself where this all came from. "I wish I knew. I wish I could say why I get these random, unprovoked moments of sadness. I wish I could understand why I'm hit with grief so hard I feel like it will take the world out from beneath my feet", I sob into his arms.

He doesn't say anything. He just listens, as he always does as I cry.

"If there was ever a way for me to take all your pain I would do it. I would do it in a heartbeat and not think about it my love", he promises with a kiss on my head.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't ever apologise to me. Let it all out Cyrene."

--

LUCIEN

Despite her request of wanting to wallow in bed, I convince her to go to her sessions today. I don't know where her on spur of emotions came from today but I understand. It breaks my heart to watch her breakdown like this randomly. Every time we take a step forward, we take two steps back. I wish I could help her as much as she's helped me.

Anxiety is a bitch like that. Coming out from nowhere, ready to ruin your whole day. I watch the time as I know her session is coming to an end and leave the car to get us coffee and stop by a florist close by, as I hear my phone ring. It's Cyrene's dad and for some reason dread fills my stomach.

I pick up the phone.

"Hey Lucien, how is it going?"

"Hey, all good, how are you? Cyrene is actually at therapy right now, if that's why you called and couldn't get through to her", I tell him.

"Haha, yes I know, I actually wanted to talk to you about her", shit.

"About what?", I ask hesitantly.

"I don't think she's even mentioned it to you, but her graduation ceremony is in a week." Fuck, Cyrene's graduation?

"I'm going to assume the silence means that she has not told you about it?", he chuckles.

"No, sir, she hasn't. But shouldn't she have had her ceremony already if she finished last year?"

"She did a few classes in the summer so it meant that her ceremony was pushed to this summer. As you can imagine, she doesn't want to go. But I want her to, I want her to have her cap and gown moment. If you could try Lucien, please, to try and convince her. I know she'll hate me for telling you but please- "

"Of course. Of course, I'll talk to her later on. She has to go, she's worked so hard she can't miss it", I say, furious at her at the fact that not only did she not tell me but she wasn't on planning to go.

"Thank you, Lucien", he says relieved before hanging up.

--

CYRENE

I open the car door to find a bouquet of flowers on my seat and can't help but smile and pull Lucien down for a kiss.

"When were you going to tell me about the fact that you haven't invited me to your graduation ceremony?", he asks as he gets into the car and I feel my body stiffen. Of course, dad told him.

"I haven't invited you because I'm not going."

"And why are you not going?"

"Why would I?", I question back and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Why would you not Cyrene? It's a day to celebrate your achievements. You've worked so hard, so why not go?", he asks turning to look at me.

I don't say anything.

"Cyrene."

"Lucien, not today please."

"Cyrene, please. Your dad called me. He wants you to have your moment, so do I. I want to be able to cheer for my girl as she goes across the stage."

"There will be no cheering and moving across the stage because I'm not going."

"Why?"

I don't answer him.

"Cyrene, I don't normally push you but this doesn't make sense to me. Despite everything, you went back. You went back to university to finish the course so why are we not celebrating?"

"Because Lucien. Because when I started my first, actual day of university all I could ever think about was my gradation, of walking across that stage and receiving my diploma. It meant everything to me, to have that moment and the photos and the friends. I thought that when I went back again, it would feel the same. But it didn't. It didn't change anything. I went back for myself to do something other than think about my life but I also went back for dad", I blurt out and he sighs.

"Lucien," I turn to him, "I am proud, don't get it twisted. I am proud of myself for pushing my way through it all over again. But I just don't want to do it. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore", I weep into the flowers he got me. "Please Lucien. Not today. I'm tired, let's just go home."

He pulls me in for a hug and kisses me.

"Ok", he says as he kisses me again, "it's ok. No graduation."