The doctor’s called it PTSD with a side of a psychotic break. I call it misery and guilt and a pain so deep that I don’t know how to fix it. For Eli or for myself. I didn’t know what to do when Landry said those words to Eli. I couldn’t stop screaming when he dropped to the ground, holding his head in his hands, whispering and chanting to himself under his breath.
I didn’t pay attention when Paul came running into the room, with the police right on his heels. I know he told me he called them when he heard all of the commotion, but I didn’t care. I didn’t get any satisfaction out of watching Landry shout and curse and being led out of the room in handcuffs. I didn’t care about anything but the broken man I knelt down next to on the floor, held in my arms, and tried to soothe with soft words and apologies.
Nothing made sense when the ambulance got there and strapped him to a gurney. Nothing made sense when he wouldn’t open his eyes at all during the ride to the hospital and just kept muttering to himself, “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.” I didn’t understand. I thought he was just in shock, reliving his nightmare all over again, but that was far from the truth. So far from it that I hate myself and I blame myself for not realizing it sooner, for not pushing him to talk more, for not wondering why we never talked about something so important.
Being distracted with each other always helped us…until it didn’t.
Nothing made sense, I didn’t understand, and there was nothing I could do but sit by his side and wait for him to wake up and finally talk to me about what we should have talked about weeks ago.
Kat was a little shocked to see me at the hospital when she arrived with her husband, but the shock quickly switched to worry for her brother when after a few days, he still hadn’t opened his eyes. The two of us kept a quiet vigil next to his beg, telling him we loved him, telling him we were sorry, and saying whatever we could to bring him back, but nothing worked. I blamed the doctors for doing nothing but pumping him full of drugs, but I had no idea what else they could do for him in a situation like this. They said we needed to give his mind time to rest and heal. I just wanted him to wake up and smile at me and tell me everything would be okay. That he would be okay. I couldn’t stand sitting by his bed day after day, seeing him so still and small when he’d always been larger than life to me. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for him, but I knew that wasn’t what he needed. He needed me to be strong and to fight for him when he couldn’t do it himself.
“Shelby, can I talk to you for a minute?” Kat asks softly, nodding her head in the direction of the door, indicating that she wants to leave the room.
I nod, standing up from my chair to lean over Eli and kiss his cheek.
“I love you. I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper into his ear, smoothing his hair off his forehead before I join Kat in the doorway.
We walk silently through the halls to the elevator and down to the first floor to the cafeteria. We both get coffee and she leads us to a table over by the window. Kat and I had just spent seven days and nights together, but we’d never said more than a few words to each other when one of us would leave to grab food, something to drink, or go to the bathroom. She’d sent her husband out to my place to grab extra clothes when I refused to leave Eli’s side. She introduced me to the doctors when they’d come in to talk to her, but we’d never discussed my reasons for being there. I fell in love with her immediately when she never questioned me or asked me to leave, quietly accepting that it would require a force of nature to take me away from Eli now.
“He never told me about the two of you,” she starts, wrapping her hands around the cardboard cup to warm them. “He never told me about a lot of things, I guess.”
She looks down at her coffee sadly and I reach across the table and grab one of her hands, giving it a soft squeeze.
“The two of us…it’s a long story. One that started six years ago. You were away at college then, and now…it just happened so fast.”
She nods her head in understanding, squeezing my hand right back.
“You love him.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Always.”
She nods again and sighs.
“I should have pushed him more to talk to me. Every time I tried, he’d smile and tell me he was fine. I knew he wasn’t fine. I knew every time he talked to Rylan like he was sitting right next to him, or made plans to move him into his new place, that he wasn’t fine, but I thought he just needed time. I thought he would eventually realize what he was doing.”
She looks up at me when I say nothing and sees the confused, questioning look on my face.
“Did he ever mention Rylan when he was with you?”
I think about all the time we spent together, doing everything but talk about important things. He spoke to me about meeting with a therapist and he briefly discussed the five years he was held captive, but he never mentioned Rylan. Never once talked about the best friend he went to war with, that he watched die right in front of him.
“Never,” I tell her. “I knew he’d died when they were over there, it was all over the news when Eli was first rescued. I guess I just thought it was too painful for him to talk about, and like you, I thought he just needed time.”
I watch as Kat’s eyes fill with tears, and my own vision gets cloudy.
“The first day he was back in Charleston and we brought him home to live with us, I was making dinner and I heard him tell someone to get their feet off the coffee table and stop being such a slob,” Kat tells me. “Daniel had run out to the store and took our daughter with him, and when I asked Eli who he was talking to, he said it so quickly, so naturally, and so easily, “I’m talking to Rylan, obviously.”
Kat laughs sadly through her tears and shakes her head. “I thought he was kidding at first and it shocked me speechless. Until he did it again. And again, and again. Every day, he’d talk to Rylan or talk about him like he was standing right there next to him. Rylan was like a brother to me, too, and I missed him, but I didn’t go through the things with him that Eli did. I didn’t know what he needed to do to cope and grieve so I let it go. I shouldn’t have let it go.”
I move my hand from Kat’s to wipe away the tears that started to fall down my cheeks when she spoke. He was so broken, so hurting, and I had no idea. Why didn’t he ever do any of these things when he was with me? Was he so busy dealing with my drama and trying to put me back together that he didn’t have time to process anything, didn’t have time to heal or grieve or let go of the best friend he was forced to watch die right next to him?