Free Lost and Found by Jennifer Bryan Yarbrough Page B

music.
     
     
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    I walk into the kitchen and Claudia is putting up groceries and I see a pizza box setting on the counter top. My stomach automatically growls, as the aroma reaches me. She turned around and saw me standing there.
    "Hey." She turned back around to put the milk and eggs into the fridge.
    "Hey yourself. I guess pizza is for lunch?" I can tell that she does not want to talk to me, by the fact that she never turned around to look at me and by her long sigh.
    "You can eat whatever you want. It's your house, too." And here we are... A civil conversation, but not really. Man I've messed things up between us pretty bad. I know that all she's trying to do is help because she loves me, and I know I worry her, but she has been pushing me too far the last couple of days. But if I'm honest with myself, I've also been hiding from reality for the past year and a half in my grief, waiting for death to find me and it hasn't found me yet. The more I think about our conversation this morning, the more I'm beginning to think that maybe she's right.
    "So, I guess we aren't going to go have lunch today?" She turns around this time and glares at me. Ouch.
    "I didn't think you would feel like going to eat today, for our usual Sunday lunch after doing so much yesterday, so I decided to bring dinner home." She pointed at the pizza box. "If you don't want pizza, I bought sandwich stuff or whatever you want to do. I'm through suggesting anything." I've really messed up this day, or maybe messed up period.
    "Claud? I'm so sorry about this morning. I've been thinking about it and you were right. I will do better from now on. I mean it " I'm looking at her, but she's staring at the floor now, anywhere but at me. She looks up at me and she just looks so vacant, like she's there but she's not.
    "I really don't care anymore. You don't have to prove anything to me. I'm tired of fighting with you, worrying about coming home and finding you dead from suicide, not being able to sleep at night, so that if you have a nightmare, I can go comfort you and tell you the same thing I always do, that there is a reason you are alive." She looks defeated and it’s my entire fault. I put that stress on her shoulders. Here I am thinking that she's been selfish, by forcing me to quit grieving and I'm the one that has been selfish, by fighting with her because she's what? Trying to get me to remember how to live? How to have fun?
    "I know I'm not the only one that lost a lot that day. Derek was your brother and they were your niece and nephews and the only family you had left, besides me, but I'm wondering, how did you get through it? Since I obviously checked out, how did you cope with everything?" Why I wanted to know the answer, I will never know, but I wasn't expecting her answer. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
    "I wouldn't say I've gotten through it, Olivia, because living with you, I am reminded of it all day long every day, but as far as how I cope with everything?" She sits down at the table and I follow her lead and sit across from her.
    "I joined a grief counseling group five months ago, to try to figure out a way to help you, because I haven't been doing a good job of helping you myself. I was hoping that after the one year anniversary went by you would kind of come out of your depression, but you didn't. I've learned that I had a lot of grief that I was holding onto, because I didn't have anyone to talk to and once I started talking about it, it's really helped." I am shocked to hear this, because I know how she feels about therapy of any kind. She has always thought that it was a waste of time and money. I'm also embarrassed and ashamed of myself at not being there for her. She had mentioned a couple of times about me going and I waved her off telling her that all I needed was time. I've used that excuse for a very, very long time.
    "I have really been a lousy selfish friend to you and for that, I am so sorry."