Can't Fall in Love Without You (Christian Yelich)

70

Sensitive subject matter pertaining to depression and suicide below. And, as always, this is 100% fiction.

***

Christian placed a framed photo of his family on the nightstand next to his hotel bed and stared at it for a while. Lindy had taken the picture at Reilly's first birthday party, and everyone captured in the moment sported a genuine smile – Christian's the biggest of all.

He had just announced Arlo's pending arrival to their friends and family. There was nothing to be sad about that day. Everything was good and right. Everything was happy. His children loved him. Elizabeth loved him. He was so loved.

Today was not a happy day. His world had fallen apart. Elizabeth departed it, and she took their babies with her. She had every right. He knew how it all looked with that repulsive blonde's hand down his pants outside of his hotel room door. How could he possibly explain it without sounding like a liar?

He'd probably never see his family again, so what was the point? He couldn't think of a single bullet to add to a list. Sloane? Dead. His mom? Dead. Elizabeth? Gone. His children? Gone.

There was nothing left. Not even tears. He was completely empty. Nothing to give and nothing to feel.

He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom where he had set up his plans. They were simple: swallow all 24 pills of phenazepam in the bottle. Wash it down with 750 milliliters of his favorite whiskey. It would be quick and easy, and, most importantly, it would be clean. No mess for his loves. They didn't deserve a mess.

He was the mess from which they needed relief. He suffocated them. They deserved the best, which he never offered.

He had worked with a lawyer to finalize his estate and leave it all to his wife and children. Everything was ready. It was go time.

24 pills. 750 milliliters. Gone. Just like everything else.

He found his bed, his grave. His phone buzzed on his nightstand, next to his prized photograph, and he briefly saw a picture of Arlo on his screen before everything went dark.

It brought him relief to know that his four loves would be the last image to flash across his mind.

***

"Shaw, where's Yelich?" Craig Counsell asked Travis on the team bus, which was supposed to have departed the hotel five minutes ago.

Travis shrugged. "Don't know, Skip. Haven't seen him since yesterday's game. I can go check his room." Travis got to his feet, now overcome with anxiety. He remembered all the blood, the sutures, the closeness to death . . . His friend was in trouble. He knew it. He shouldn't have left his side.

"No, you stay put," Counsell directed. He could read the nerves on Travis's face. "Nottingham, you go check. Take this." He handed Jacob Nottingham a key card. "Just in case."

Jacob wasted no time and ran off the bus. It took him a few minutes to get to Christian's room. When he pounded on the door, there was no response. When he pounded more aggressively, still no response.

And, when he burst into the room and found Christian on his bed, his face pallid and covered in vomit, there was no response.

911 and a little bit of hope was all he could manage to keep his teammate and friend on life support.

***

Elizabeth didn't recognize the number displayed on her phone, but a voice in her head told her she needed to answer it. It was important.

"Dr. Reed speaking," she responded, dropping Yelich from her name without second thought.

"Is this Dr. Yelich-Reed?" the female voice asked.

"Yes, this is she," she repeated herself, rolling her eyes a little bit at the addition of Yelich, even if it was formally correct.

"Your husband, Mr. Christian Yelich, is currently in the ICU at NewYork-Presbyterian," the woman informed her.

"There must be some sort of mistake. Christian's a healthy baseball player, and he's probably at Citi Field right now taking batting practice." This had to be a prank.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Yelich-Reed, but Mr. Yelich overdosed on phenazepam and alcohol and is currently being treated here. Are you able to get to the hospital quickly?" the mystery person on the line asked.

But Elizabeth's phone slipped out of her hand before she could find a reply.

Christian. ICU. Overdose.

Her husband had overdosed and was in the ICU, and Elizabeth couldn't feel a thing – except her mother's arms embracing her tightly.

She couldn't even feel the tears she was crying against her mom's chest.

***

Christian Yelich, two-time National League MVP and World Series champion had spent a full week almost completely alone in a New York City hospital.

He wasn't supposed to be here at all. He couldn't even commit suicide right. Just another item on his growing list of failures.

Little Miss Ivy got to hold Arlo's hand today. Isn't this precious?

Debbie was being so kind to him. Flooding him with texts. Flooding him with pictures of his beautiful babies. He didn't deserve it, but he appreciated it. He needed them, and he couldn't have them.

So glad you're still here, Yeli. You'll be back playing the game we love soon.

Shaw texted him every hour on the hour. Prior to his attempt, Shaw's constant, worried attention grated on Christian's last nerve, but now he wished his friend was here. He needed him.

He needed Elizabeth, too.

He had to see Elizabeth, even if she didn't need him back. She was so strong, and he needed that strength to give him a chance at living again. Without it, he was a goner. He was already supposed to be gone.

"When am I cleared to leave?" he asked the night shift nurse. "I have to go." He was suddenly overcome with the intense desire to escape his room and fly to Arizona. He couldn't shake the impulse.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be here a few more days and then you're going to need an intensive rehabilitation program," the nurse said softly.

Yeah, that wasn't happening. As soon as he was released, he'd fly to Arizona.

His family was the only possible rehabilitation for him.

***

"Elizabeth, you need to sleep." It was 2:00 am, and Elizabeth was curled into fetal position on the living room couch watching mindless television. She didn't know what sleep was, and she couldn't remember the last time she ate.

She didn't respond to Debbie. Instead, she pretended to focus all her attention on 90 Day Fiancé. In reality, her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere she didn't fully understand.

"You're wasting away, Elizabeth Anne Yelich-Reed. You need to talk to your husband." Debbie was putting her foot down. She was done with her daughter's conflict avoidance.

"You talk to him for me," she said softly, trying not to cry. She tried hard every day not to cry . . . Not to show weakness to her family. She needed to be strong.

"I'm going to make you some breakfast," Debbie decided, even if it would go to waste.

While Debbie cooked in the middle of the night, singing a Billy Joel tune softly to herself, and Elizabeth withdrew to her coma, neither noticed when one Christian Yelich entered the condo.