Dear Life(26)

After looking over the room, she stands, raises her finger in the air. “Don’t be afraid to engage and ask questions but be respectful of everyone’s space. Once your group is finished, take some time to write your letter. You are welcome to scatter around the room, please don’t feel the need to stay in your chair.” With her hands folded in front of her, she looks around the group. “As always, if you have any questions, I will be around. Be kind, be courageous, and keep moving forward. Keep proving your existence, day by day. Prove it.”

My lips press tightly together in thought. Shit, have I been proving my existence? Do I even understand what that is? I think back over the time between meetings and realize I truly took advantage of the grieving process. Long nights on the couch, my face buried in a pillow covered by one of Eric’s old T-shirts, and listening to his Voxer messages on repeat. In other words, I continued doing the same thing as every night before.

Images of my lonely nights vanish when the squeak of metal chairs across the lacquered floor resonate through the cold walls of the church hall. Looking to my group, I see Daisy moving her chair closer to Carter to make some room for me to maneuver into the circle. Jace, looking more sullen than ever, has his head bent, his hands clasped in front of him, and a bouncing beneath him, shaking his entire body. He appears to be in no mood to share. Despite his morose aura, I can’t help but notice the strong chiseled jaw that rests beneath the brim of his hat, or the obvious corded muscles that flex under his long-sleeve shirt, or his broad build with his long legs and large feet. You would have to be living under a rock to not know who he is. So, why is he here?

Guess I’ll be finding out soon enough.

“Who wants to get started?” Daisy, our silently designated group leader asks, looking annoyingly vivacious in her quilted vest that she’s constantly smoothing her hands over. Must be a nervous tick of hers. Last meeting, she was incessantly pulling on her overall straps.

“Why don’t you, Snowflake?” Carter suggests, picking at his jeans, not even caring to look up.

“Snowflake?” Daisy looks around, oblivious to the nickname Carter is clearly calling her. “Who are you referring to?”

Carter lifts his brow and barely makes eye contact with Daisy. “You.”

“Oh.” She points to her chest, looking more confused than ever but then proceeds forward. Her nerves seem to be rattling her confidence. “Do we have to stand when we say our sentence?”

“I’m not fucking standing,” Carter answers, popping a bubble.

How long has that piece of gum been in his mouth? It has to taste like rubber cement by now.

“Well I guess that settles it, no standing.” Daisy swallows hard. “Are you sure you want me to go first?”

Carter nods his head, Jace makes no movement, and I feeling bad for the girl say, “No, I can go first.”

“Really?” There is hope and relief in her eyes. She may be simpler than all of us but it’s obvious in the way she fidgets and the way her voice wavers with every word she speaks that she is way out of her comfort zone, so I will give her a break.

“Yeah, so we uh, just say our name, our sentence, and we’re done?”

“That’s correct,” Marleen agrees from behind, startling me in my chair. Tension coils in my back from her eavesdropping and I pray that she continues to circulate so I don’t have to admit my sorrow in front of her. “Remember to take a deep breath, find your demons, and with one final push, let them out, let them go and start creating and surrounding yourself with happiness. Before we leave, when everyone is writing their letters, we will go over our next step in the program.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice raising higher, trying to be nice to Marleen. It can’t be an easy volunteer job for her, having to force people to talk about what’s been troubling them.

“Go ahead, continue.”

Luckily, when I clear my throat, Marleen walks over to the next group, giving me a little more privacy to make my announcement. “Hi, uh, you know my name is Hollyn—”

“Hi Hollyn,” Carter deadpans, acting like a total dick. It takes everything in me not to flip him off. Instead, I tilt my head and give him my best fuck you smile.

“As I was saying, I’m Hollyn and,” I take a deep breath, “I’m a twenty-two-year-old widow.” The words feel bitter, leaving my tongue. Branding myself in such a way it stings, like little needles prickling me all over, turning me into a blanket of numb.

A widow.

That’s what I am. There is no skirting around it.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Daisy says, reaching over to pat my hand but then second-guesses her instincts and pulls back.

“I’m sorry too, Hollyn,” Jace says, a deep, timber-filled voice carrying out of him as he lifts his head slightly to make eye contact.

Glancing at Carter, expecting to see a smartass look on his face, he actually seems apologetic, the atmosphere amongst us growing serious.

“I feel bad now, saying my sentence. It’s nothing compared to yours,” Daisy says.

Shifting in his seat, pulling on his jeans that cling to his thighs, Jace says, “You can’t do that, Daisy. You can’t devalue what you’re going through because you’re comparing it to someone else. We’re all going through this program for a reason despite how big or small it is. This is not a competition, it’s a fellowship.”