Lost

Peter smiled sadly, and nodded his head in acceptance. Peter didn’t judge me or hate me for the few kissing indiscretions, because I think he knew they meant nothing to me. Peter understood I was just trying to get through the loneliness without him however I could.

  After a little silence between us I asked him about everything his sister had said to me. I asked him about his life and job, and I asked him why she said I wasn’t safe with him.

  I asked what part of his life he was screwing up to be with me, but Peter didn’t answer. Peter offered no explanations, but he did hold me tighter to him in his silence. He held me together as I cried to him about my sad life without him.

  I cried to Peter and told him I missed him so much I couldn't breathe anymore without him. I cried to Peter and told him he was my forever and I wouldn't live without him anymore.

  I cried with Peter wrapped tightly around me, holding me safe as I whispered I loved him forever.

  I cried and closed my eyes, safe in his arms, feeling all the love we shared, knowing the life I couldn’t live without.

  And that was the first time I ever tried to commit suicide.

  CHAPTER 25

  But of course I didn't succeed that time because my brother found me 2 hours later in my bed.

  Steven came back to my place in the early evening to tell me off for all the rotten things I'd said to him and Kim. Steven returned because even though I had been horrible, he still loved me enough to want to tell me off for being such a bitch, hoping to smack some sense into me in the process.

  Steven found me, his twin sister, OD'd on her bed dressed in a lovely pantsuit, wrapped around the framed picture the love of her life had painted for her when he still adored her months earlier.

  When I regained consciousness after having my stomach pumped, and meds pumped into me intravenously for the potential kidney and liver damage, I was finally well enough to talk, which I was good at.

  I managed to convince a doctor and nurse that the pills were accidental because I was having major back pain earlier, and the more pills I took for the pain the less coherent I was remembering how many I had actually taken. It was horribly accidental I convinced them, and by 11:00 that night I was told I could leave the following morning.

  I was warned about taking pain killers with alcohol, and I was warned about the dangers of self-medicating back injuries with over the counter meds which I had also lied about. I had never had a car accident, and I didn't suffer any long term back pain from the made up car accident. But the story worked.

  After thanking them for their concern, and speaking to a nurse about alternative medicines and therapies for back pain, which I found truly ironic, I was left to sleep in my hospital bed alone.

  I was finally left alone, in a kind of funny no harm/no foul world where I was still the mature, professional, Sophie Morley who would never be as stupid as some woman who takes painkillers with alcohol to ease the pain in her chest.

  The following morning however, I was greeted by my worst nightmare.

  My parents were waiting with Amy and Kim for the 7:30 visiting hours to begin.

  I was greeted first by my red-faced, weepy eyed mother and my stoic, but sad looking dad, followed by a pale Kim and a crying Amy. I was greeted by them all as they entered my room quietly.

  Watching them enter, I wasn’t ready for the potential shitstorm I had created though, so I calmly asked them all to leave me alone, except for my mom. I asked them all to leave me, and after another tragic pause among them, Kim stepped forward until I shook my head no at her, and Amy immediately left my room crying harder.

  They left eventually without words, and I was faced with just my mom, who I knew I could convince to make the others leave me alone. So as soon as the door closed behind them, I tried.

  “Mom, I swear to god this was an accident. I hurt my back the night before, and I was in tons of pain and I took too many pills stupidly. It was just an accident, and I promise I'm fine,” I said firmly.

  “Sophie... I really don't believe you, and nobody else does either. You may have convinced the doctors you're fine, but I think you and I both know you're lying,” she replied just as firmly. Looking at my mom’s expression I knew in that moment I should have picked my dad to convince, but I tried again anyway.

  “It wasn't on purpose. I was just in pain after I fell and I guess I had enough alcohol in my system from the night before to cause a bad reaction. But it wasn't on purpose.”

  My mother stood beside me at that point staring at me undeterred as she questioned, “Why, baby? What was so bad that you had to do this?”

  “I didn't. I wouldn’t. And I need you to believe me!” I cried.

  “Well, I don't. And if I didn't think you'd hate me forever, I'd push for the 48 hour mandatory psych hold. But I won’t. Instead, you're coming home with us, and I'm going to talk to you until you work this shit out. You're a mess, Sophie, and I love you too much to care if you're pissed at me for trying to help you. I’m going to help you, because I love you. And your dad is absolutely beside himself over this desperately wanting to help you, too.”

  “But I didn't do anything! It was an accident!” I yelled frustrated.

  “Don't you get it? No matter how old you get, you're still our daughter, and whatever hurts you absolutely kills us. So stop lying to me, and stop lying to yourself. You're the only one screwed up here. I'm your mother, and I can fight you any day of the week. And I'll always win. So give it up, Sophie,” my mom said without emotion.

  “There's nothing to give up. It was an accident,” I mumbled lamely.

  But it was clear she was winning and I was losing this battle of wills. Watching my mom walk to the door and call my dad in, I realized I was totally screwed.

  Grasping at anything, I tried to figure something out quickly as my dad walked back into my room, but I had nothing.

  “Sophie's coming home with us for a few days, and we're going to help her deal with everything that's hurting her. We're going to help her until she can help herself. Okay?” She asked my dad who had not spoken but just stood still watching my face as my tears slowly fell.

  “Of course...” He whispered in a choked voice which forced the first sob from my chest.

  “Daddy, this was just a stupid accident, I swear. I took too many pain killers with some alcohol in my system, but I'm fine. It was just an accident,” I tried again, but my dad just nodded at me.

  “Are you ready?” My mom asked again without emotion.

  “I just want to go home,” I whined.

  Glaring at me, my mom said again, “You're coming home with us or I'll go talk to the doctor you spoke to last night. I'll tell him what I really think happened, and we'll see what your options are then. Would you like that?” My mother asked like a total bitch, and I knew I wouldn't win again, so I gave up.

  Nodding my surrender, I was helped from the bed as we left my room with a nurse pushing me in a wheelchair to my parent's car.

  Moving down the hallway, I noticed the absence of Amy and Kim, and naturally I wondered where my brother was. But I didn't ask, and I didn't really want to know.

  I assumed Steven was super pissed at me still for all the horrible things I had said, and I couldn't stand the thought of Steven my constant being mad at me on top of everything else I was feeling.

  So leaving, I didn't speak, and neither did my parents the entire drive to their home. We were silent, and in the silence I realized I would probably never speak of my pain for the rest of my life.

  I didn't need to talk about it because I knew it all and so did Peter.

  When we arrived at my parents’ I asked if I could go lie down. I asked simply with every intention of avoiding their immediate attention. I asked because just the thought of my parents thinking I had lost it, or that I was weak in some way made me want to scream. I asked so I could avoid the unavoidable.

  I was a 25 year old, professional woman who was stuck in her parents’ home like a goddamn grounded teenager. And t
o be honest, the longer I was with them, the angrier I became.

  I hated the fact that my mother blackmailed me, and I hated the fact that she was being such a hardass to me. Actually, if I was being really honest, I hated everything about everything and everyone at that time.

  I was so tired of everything, I just wanted to go home to my bed.

  *****

  When I woke up a few hours later, my mom was sitting in my room on the window seat.

  “I'm sorry...” I whispered. “I didn't really mean to, I was just confused and so sad I didn't want to feel the sad anymore. But I wasn't really trying to do anything wrong,” I spoke quietly. “I just needed a break from all the pressure and pain...” I cried.

  “What pressure?”

  “Everything. I just feel like I have to be so good all the time or people won't like me, and I couldn't really handle all the pressure anymore.”

  “Who’s putting pressure on you?” My mom asked leaning forward.

  “Everyone...”

  “Like who?” She persisted.

  “Everyone. All of you,” I said quietly with a bit of fear.

  Looking at my mom quickly, I waited for a bad reaction, but again she stayed completely calm. “Really? How so?” She asked.

  “I don't know. I'm Sophie, I guess. I've always been good at everything, and I've never failed before and I try to be so good all the time that sometimes it feels like it’s a lot of pressure or something,” I mumbled.

  “That sounds like you putting pressure on yourself. I don't recall a time ever your dad and I asked for perfection, or for you to not fail. I don't recall ever expecting anything more than you just trying. Am I wrong?”

  “You didn't say it, but I've always been the good twin. The one who did everything right, and you guys liked me that way because you didn't stress out about me,” I admitted to my mother, who surprised me again with her reaction.

  “Sophie... You couldn't be more wrong if you tried,” she said exhaling deeply. “You were the one we stressed about. It was you that we worried about constantly. Steven is just Steven. He was a good kid who made mistakes, learned from them and moved on. But you weren't like that. You were so uptight and almost obsessive about things. You studied and stressed over having everything perfect all the time and you freaked out if you were slightly less than the best-”

  “No, I didn't,” I said defensively.

  “Yes, you did. God, I used to try to make you have fun. I'd dance around the kitchen and try to make you be silly with me, but you never did. Steven would jump in and spin me around, and you'd just watch us. Yes, you laughed, but you never joined in and just had fun. God, you talked about your forever plans since you were a little girl. You always had a plan. And if you didn't have a plan you were unsettled,” she said moving to sit on the end of my bed. “You were an adult by 6 years old, and that stressed me and your dad out,” she exhaled.

  “No I wasn't. I was normal-”

  “Of course you were normal. I'm not saying anything bad to you, I'm just trying to make you see you’ve always been so driven and intense you used to make yourself sick before exams, or before interviews, or before anything at all that you could possibly fail at.”

  “No I didn't,” I argued again. “I was never that way. I was fun and I-”

  “You were fun within very strict guidelines,” my mother smiled. “Sophie, you never just let loose, and you've never just been a person who reacts naturally to the world around her. You study everything and behave accordingly. You have called yourself 'stable, professional, Sophie' since you were 12,” she quoted as I flinched. “But you didn't have to be, and we didn't want you to be. Your dad and I just wanted you to be happy, and we thought being so rigid was what made you happy, so we didn't try to change you after you were a teenager,” she paused looking at me. “But I don't think you've ever been happy,” she exhaled slowly.

  “Yes I have! I've always been happy,” I defended.

  “No. I think you've been content. I don't know if you know what true happiness is. I don't think-”

  “I was truly happy with Peter,” I suddenly cried. “I was. He made me feel things and say things, and be different. He let me just be myself, PMS included,” I huffed a laugh. “Peter made me happy, and he was my forever, but I wasn't his, and I don't know how to move on,” I choked. “I just don't know how to move past the only person, beside you guys that I've ever loved like that. He was just everything I ever wanted but in a way I didn't know I wanted it,” I said as I forced down the pain in my chest.

  Whispering, I admitted to my mom my absolute reality. “I didn't even know men like him existed, and then I found him and he loved me and I was so happy. He was everything,” I suddenly sobbed.

  “Sophie, he wasn't,” she shook her head. “He may have been everything you ever wanted, but he wasn't everything. He's gone, and you need to be happy without him, because even if you two meet again or even love again you'll have nothing to give him or yourself. You're too wrapped up in just being happy with him beside you, that eventually you'll run out of your own happiness to give. Do you know what I mean?”

  Shaking my head, I moaned, “No...”

  “Okay. Just listen for a second. I love cooking for example. I don't do it because I have to, I do it because I actually love cooking. And every time I'm excited about some new recipe I've made, your dad is happy for me. He tries everything I make as excited as I am to have him try it. And though there have been a few gross concoctions,” she said smiling, “Your dad still eats it and tells me it was good, even though we're both gagging it down. See, he's happy that I was happy cooking, so the food somehow doesn't taste quite as bad or something. It's hard to explain, but I'm happy when he's happy and excited about something, and vice versa. If we had nothing of ourselves individually, we'd be bored by now. Can you imagine what it would be like if I lived only for your dad now that you kids are gone? Can you imagine what it would feel like for him to know he left for work, came home, and I was just sitting there waiting for him to make my evening happy? Like if I had nothing of my own and I needed him to make me happy as well as himself? He would be exhausted, and I would seem boring and uninspired, and that would make us boring and uninspired. But we're not like that. We do our own things, so when we do spend time together, we're happy to spend the time together. We're not dependent on each other for happiness. We add to each other's happiness,” she finally stopped as I listened carefully.

  “I worked...” I said pitifully.

  “Yes, you did. But what else did you do with Peter- besides Peter?” She said laughing as I blushed. “Sophie, you stopped socializing, and you didn't even come here for Sunday dinners. Steven missed you but you were so wrapped up in Peter you saw nobody else but Peter.”

  “But at the beginning-”

  “I know. At the beginning of a relationship everyone becomes a little obsessed. Trust me, I remember I couldn't keep my hands off your dad, and he couldn't get enough of me. But we also had lives apart from each other. We were still 2 people who loved, but we were 2 separate people. And I don't think you did that,” she pushed.

  “I was. I did. I just liked being with him,” I argued.

  “I know. Why wouldn't you? From what I understand from Kim, Peter rocked your world sexually,” she grinned. “But I also saw you completely disappear around New Years' and that was the last we knew of what was going on until March. You didn't talk to anyone and you basically ignored us, or always had an excuse to hang up quickly. We don't even really know anything about your new career because everything was totally eclipsed by your relationship with Peter.”

  “I was just busy, that's all.”

  “With Peter.”

  “No with everything,” I argued.

  “That revolved around Peter,” she pushed back.

  “No...” But again I always lost when my mom called me out.

  “So now you have to make some serious changes. It's time. I know you're hurting, I get that. Hones
tly, I understand how much this breakup has hurt you, but it's time to stop wallowing.”

  “I'm not wallowing,” I said totally offended.

  “You are. But not in a whiny, I want sympathy sort of way. You're wallowing in the upset because you don't know how to move past it. And getting hammered every weekend, acting like a tart to get attention isn't the way,” she said knowingly. Looking at her, I was suddenly very embarrassed to be called a drunken tart by my mother.

  So I tried to explain. “I just needed to know men still wanted me,” I admitted pitifully. Crying softly, I hated having to admit to something so weak and ridiculous, but it was true.

  “Oh, Sophie… You shouldn’t need drunken idiots wanting you, to feel wanted. You are wanted. You’re beautiful and intelligent but you can't see what's right in front of you. You have a whole life just waiting for you. You're only 25, so you have time for love still, and you have lots of time to move past this breakup and the pain you're suffering. But you have to decide to move past it instead of just waiting for it to pass, because it isn't going to. You're going to feel this for as long as you fight letting it go.”

  “I tried to let him go,” I whispered softly, but I knew I was lying. I didn't let him go because I couldn’t let him go. I still loved him and I wouldn’t let him go no matter how much I pretended to move on. So I asked the question I couldn’t believe I had to ask.

  “What do I do? I honestly don't know. I have no idea what to do to move on like everyone keeps saying to. Even his sister Kara told me to move on. She accused me of not being good for Peter- of screwing up his life and his job, which makes no sense by the way. But she just kept saying to let him go and I wish I could because I hate feeling like this, but I hate thinking of not being with him more...” I finished my confession with a gasp of pain.

  “How about you just start by just taking care of you right now. Focus on your job and your friends and yourself. Make you a priority. Eat better, drink less, or not at all I'd recommend, and just make this time about you living day to day well, until it hurts a little less. Maybe when you focus on yourself and your own real needs a little, you won't feel only the absence of Peter in your life. Could you try that?” My mom asked taking my hand. And after she spoke it just seemed so simple suddenly, I nodded.