While You Were Here

Chapter 11

When I get dressed for bed that night, I don't bother saying goodnight to my family. I can't stand to look at my mother. I realize that she was just trying to help but after Nick, she barely lets me brush my teeth alone. I pull Nick's necklace over my head and put Ryan's on my nightstand. I'm aware of how sketchy my reaction is. But I'm out of emotion. I slide under the covers and turn my music on loud. I let my mind wander as the playlist runs its course. "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show plays softly. Something makes me turn over and grab my old journal. My last entry was the night before Nick died. 

When my mom first signed me up for therapy after he died, I refused to talk. So mom brought in my journal and made the counselor read it herself. I stopped writing in it shortly after. I started writing stupid things about how much help I was getting and how I felt so much better and how in time I'd get over and move on. Mom bought it. The counselor didn't. She made my mother leave the room.

"Colette, this isn't you," she said, dropping the notebook on the table in front of me. I thumb through the pages. I shrug. I remember that her name is Marie. 

"I know that you're not okay," she said. I exploded. All that anyone told me those first few days was that they knew how I was feeling. Nobody knew. Nobody understood. Grief they could take, acceptance was too soon. Marie said later it was mild PTSD. My brain didn't want to acknowledge the severity of the situation so it shut down my more powerful emotions. 

"No. You don't," I snapped. "Nobody knows how I'm feeling more than I do. I know that I'm fine. I don't need this, I don't need you, I don't need anybody. I saved him all on my own. I didn't need help with it. It was him you all should've watched. His parents are doctors and they weren't home enough to notice that he didn't want to live. They spent all their time bringing people back and saving them and they didn't see that their own son lived through the day wishing he could die. What kind of parent does that! I had to deal with it all on my own! ME! JUST ME!" I put my head in my hands and ran my fingers through my hair. 

I met her eyes and stood up. I kept going. "I don't expect any gratitude and I know i won't get any but for Christ's sake! He was drowning! All he wanted was a raft to prove that he wasn't weak enough to drown! And you!" I rounded on her. "And Mom! Acting like I need help. THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN HELP ME IS ME. Don't you get it? I don't have PTSD. I don't need a freaking pyschiatrist to tell me that I'll get through it. I can do it myself. I don't need Mom and her frickin pills and her overprotectiveness. I don't need any of this!" 

I grabebd my journal, flipped the desk, and stormed out. I slammed the glass door to her office so hard, one of the mini panes fell out. I sprinted as hard as I could to Nick's room. But an iron grip stopped me from entering. 

"Nuh-uh missy." How Marie got there faster than me I'll never know. But I'll never forgive her for what happened after. She frog-marched me to the nurses station outside his room. 

"This is Colette Anders. She is furthermore forbidden to visit Mr. Nick Matthews until she shows signs of improvement. Her mental state is comprised and I would hate to see all his progress deteriorate," said Marie. I glared at her. 

"Yes ma'am," said the nurse. She typed a few words into the computer and smiled at Marie. "Alright, free and clear." Marie gripped me in a vise-like grip and hauled my ass into her office.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I raged at her. She stared pointedly at the overturned desk.

"Undo that. Now." 

She laughs at me. "I don't take demands from teenagers with GAD." 

"How do you know about that?" I whirled around. She held up photocopied pages with my handwriting in black ink. Of course. My fucking journal. 

"Now if you ever want to see Nick again, I suggest you talk." 

I don't think she honestly expected me but I opened my mouth and told her everything. She tried to give me pointers but I just talked over her. When i'd finished about my Generalized Anxiety Disorder, I stood up. I clutched my journal like it was the only thing real i had left to touch.

"Oh and sometimes I want to kill myself," I shot at her. I walked out again.

"Colette! If you walk out that door-"

"Marie. I'll say this nicely. Go fucketh yourselfeth." 

I smile at my handwritten memory. It felt good to finally aim my anger at someone, blame someone other than myself. I know Nick's parents blame me.

You should've said something. You knew the whole time? 

Dinner with Nick's parents was rarely ever pleasant but the first time I had to eat there without him it was hell. Mrs. Matthews did nothing to stop herself from saying that I had a family of guidance counselors to turn to and surely one of them had dealt with suicide. Mr. Matthews worked for Verizon and said that he knew 911 responded especially fast to distress calls from them. All of the little barbs, the little insinuations led up to Mrs. Matthews looking me in the eyes and asking why I felt the need to kill her only son. I excused myself from the house after that and i've never gone back. 

I put the journal down as the last song fades to silence. I rub some orange scented lotion onto my hands and shut off the lights. I fall asleep clutching the necklace and halfway through the night i swear I hear Nick say, "Night baby." I chalk it up to imagination but when i hear him actually start talking, I turn on all the lights. My phone has defaulted from playing music to playing voice memos. Nick loaded my phone with them under a pinky promise I'd never listen to them until I felt ready to die. I figure now is a good enough time to hear them considering at least one of us felt ready.

"Hey baby." His familiar deep voice never fails to make my heart go faster and I almost laugh when I hear my own voice yelling at him to hurry his ass up or I'd leave without him. Judging by the date on the memo, I'd assume we were heading off on one of our adventures. 

"Goddamn you're nosy. You almost walked in on me recording in my room. Then demanded to know what was going on. Ya reckless bitch." There's no heat behind his playful insults and it makes me smile to remember.

"You're beautiful. I mean, every guy in existence has grasped this but somehow it fails you. Nobody has blue eyes like you. Nobody. Not even that hot blonde cheerleader. Joking. Nobody knows me like you do, Col. Not my shit parents or my friends. I love you. I really fucking do. JustaskJayRogen." I almost miss him saying it and I rewind three times to go it but the message is as clear as day: Jay knew. "You can't understand why I think you're beautiful. And I can't express so you're left with less than adequate kisses on your body and I know you dream about me sleeping next to you even though you deny it. I know that in twenty years when your cell acts up and they have to sync your old phone to the new, you'll find these and laugh at the asshole who left these for you. You might have moved on from me at this point, but I will never move on from you." 

He ends the recording there and I stop it before the next one can play. I feel tears stream down my face but I leave them there. I let Ryan's text just sit in my inbox and turn the lights out again. But this time, I don't hold the necklace. I lay it down next to me and fall asleep playing with the chain.