“This drinking shit’s got to stop. It’s not the answer.”
“Then what is?” he asked, looking over at me again.
I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. You just put one foot in front of the other and you keep moving. Getting pissed is just hiding from it. The pain’s still there when you sober up, and by then you’ve got a shitload of other problems to deal with, on top of everything else.”
He looked tempted to believe me, but I didn’t think he was quite there yet.
“You’ve got people all around you who want to help,” I said honestly. “Just let them. You don’t have to do this by yourself. None of us have. We’re leaning on each other, all the damn time. It’s the only thing that gets us through the day sometimes.”
He nodded, his head bowing low again as he stared at his hands on the table in front of him.
I caught a glimpse of the old Alex, hiding inside of this one, scared as hell.
I didn’t blame him. I sat right where he was sitting now, merely a couple of years ago, and listened to the same lecture from Henry.
THE LAST THREE DAYS had been hell. If it hadn’t been for Maia, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through them.
I couldn’t lean on Bridget, she was having enough trouble keeping herself functioning. Henry was gone. Vinnie and Jas had been great, but neither of them needed the extra pressure of me falling apart, with the baby’s arrival so close.
But Maia, she gave herself to me, completely. She encouraged me to use her. As a pillow, as a sounding board, as someone to hold when it all got too much. It was like she was saying ‘lean on me. I can take it.’
I didn’t want to. I fought it with everything I had, but it was too much for me. I had to let go, and she was there to catch me when I felt myself falling. Henry had been such a big part of my life, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t imagine not going over there on Tuesdays or Thursdays. I couldn’t imagine not sharing things with him. I would miss his advice, his honesty and his wisdom.
Maia stuck to me like glue through all the funeral arrangements and the endless list of stuff that had to be done. We felt like a team. I found myself looking for her when she wasn’t beside me.
The most painful part about losing someone is that it always brings previous losses to the fore. I started remembering stuff about my Dad’s funeral. And Emily was never far from my mind.
We talked about trying to find out more about Maia’s past. We did some googling around DNA tests, processes and procedures, and I showed her the listings for Emily on the missing person sites online. We looked for her own photo in there, just in case we got lucky, but it soon became obvious that it wasn’t going to be that simple.
She wanted to find out the truth just as much as I did, and I think Henry’s death brought home to both of us that it wasn’t just for us that we needed to do this. It was for everyone who knew her, whoever she was. Maybe, if we could determine who she was, her family would get some peace, too. Whether that family was here or somewhere else didn’t really matter.
Henry’s death had a profound effect on all of us. Alex was trying his best to keep it together. I’d had a word with Bridget about what he’d told me in the kitchen the day Henry died, and she was just as surprised as I was. She had been hovering ever since, and he was trying his best to let her. He was by no means out of the woods, but I think having an excuse for us all to spend time together was good for him. He needed to be around people who understood. After I’d filled Vinnie in, even he was giving him some leeway.
I found myself volunteering to collect things from Henry’s house when we needed them. I knew Bridget was having a hard time being there, but for me it was a chance to be closer to him. It felt like he was still there somehow. Just like when Em disappeared, all his things were left behind. It was as if he had just stepped out, or maybe he was out in the garden, and he’d be back soon enough. I wished it were true.
I found myself wandering around the house the day I went to collect his clothes for the funeral director. I opened his wardrobe and stood there, staring at everything. Henry was a neat, tidy person by nature, and his wardrobe was no different. Everything was neatly pressed, hangers lined up in a row, waiting. All the years I’d known him, as well as I knew this house, I’d never been in his wardrobe.
I wanted to be there when Bridget went through his things. I wanted something of his for myself. I didn’t really care what. I just wanted to have something to look at that would remind me of him. Something tangible, something I could hold onto.