To my surprise, she seemed to perk up a little at that. “Really? That’s what he said?”
“Pretty much. True, it’s a little more polite than just saying ‘get the fuck out of my house,’ but — ”
“No,” she broke in, “it’s way better than that. He’s upset right now. He’s hurting. He didn’t tell you that he never wanted to see you again — he just needs his space. You’re taking a break. You’re not broken up.”
Oh, how I wanted to believe her. But she hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the dead look in his eyes when he stared at me. True, he’d just buried his brother that day. We should have been comforting one another, though, not engaging in our own personal cold war.
But if there was even the slightest possibility that she might be right….
“Okay,” I said at last. “If you want to take his words at face value, then maybe it’s possible it’s not totally over. It’s just that right now I have a hard time believing that.” And as the words left my lips, the tears followed right after, and I began to cry, body wracked as each sob tore its way out of me.
Sydney slipped out of her chair and came over, pulling me into her arms, holding me until at last the tears were spent and I couldn’t cry anymore. My heart was dry as a desert.
Pulling away from me gently, she asked, “Do you want me to stay? I threw some stuff in the trunk as I was leaving, just in case. I could tell from the way you sounded on the phone that this was major.”
I wiped my eyes again. No more mascara; it had long been washed away. “I love you, Syd,” I said simply.
She smiled. “Love you, too. And you’ll get through this. But let me go get my stuff.”
In response I nodded, and she headed out to her car while I stayed in my chair and tried to pull in deep breaths. Yes, this was all really bad, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with it alone.
For now, that would have to be enough.
* * *
Sydney ended up staying with me for two days. When I asked about work, she just shrugged and said she’d called in sick, and when I gently probed about Anthony being okay with her being gone for so long, she shook her head at me and said, “He’s a big boy. If he can’t handle two days without me, then we’re going to have to have a talk about clinginess.”
After that, I let it go. I needed her there; the house felt so big and empty on the few occasions when she went out to get us food and other supplies that I knew I couldn’t handle being there on my own. Not yet, anyway.
During one of those trips to Grapes to get us pizza, she was gone a fairly long time. I thought I knew why — I was in no shape to face any of my family, but I was fairly certain she’d stopped in at my Aunt Rachel’s apartment to explain to her what was really going on. Maybe I should have been angry with Sydney for taking the initiative like that. I found that I didn’t mind so much, though. Telling Syd had been hard enough. Having to repeat the whole story to my aunt would be even worse, because although she might refrain from saying “I told you so” out loud, she’d certainly be thinking it.
No, it was good that Sydney got that out of the way for me. Aunt Rachel would spread the word, and that meant whenever I finally felt ready to leave the house, I wouldn’t have to worry about explaining myself over and over again.
On the third day, though, Syd couldn’t put off work any longer. So she hugged me and told me to call if I needed her.
“No matter what,” she said sternly as she paused on the porch and pulled her sunglasses out of her purse. “I mean it.”
“I’m okay, Syd,” I replied. It wasn’t a total lie; by that point I felt as if I could get through at least an hour without feeling as if I were going to dissolve into tears.
And if I did, so what? No one would be around to see me sobbing uncontrollably, and I’d learned that I could break down, have my cry, then wipe my tears away and go on for another hour before that horrible choking sensation seized my throat and I began to weep again.
Probably not the best way to live, but I had to start somewhere.
Shifting her weight from one foot to another, she studied me for a few seconds, then nodded. “All right. I’ll call you on my break.”
“Sounds good,” I told her, summoning a watery smile.
She didn’t buy it, I could tell, but I also knew she had to leave now or be late for work. A quick hug, and then she was hurrying down the front walk to her car. She’d been parking it in front this whole time, since she claimed there was no way she was going to deal with the narrow alley that backed up to the garage, with its awkward angles and blind spots. I really couldn’t blame her. Not wanting to go back into the house and face its emptiness, I sat down on the top porch step.