No Tomorrow

by Carian Cole

  She steps inside and looks at the TV just before I turn it off.

  “Were you watching Blue’s concert?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I miss him and just wanted to see him.”

  She sits on the floor next to me, in the same position I’m sitting.

  “Blue’s not okay, is he?” Her soft voice could have been a horrific scream and it would have had the same gut-wrenching effect on me.

  “What makes you say that?” I ask, forcing a smile.

  “I guess I kinda feel like something’s wrong inside.”

  She knew he looked sad that night. She asked me why he looked so sad, but I didn’t see it. Oh, how I wish I had.

  I realize I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s too intuitive—too wise beyond her years—to have blinders pulled over her.

  “Well… no. He’s going through a rough time right now. He’s been emotionally exhausted for a long time, and he’s been…confused.” She listens intently, nodding as if she understands, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she does. “He had a very difficult childhood, and the memories of that still hurt him and make him feel sad and sick. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he’s in a special hospital for a little while, and they’re helping him rest, and they’re going to give him medicine that will make his head stop hurting and make him not so sad.” I can’t bring myself to tell her he tried to harm himself. Not when she’s looking at me with her huge, hopeful eyes.

  “Will I see him again?”

  “Yes, definitely. I promise you, he’ll be back. Actually his friend Reece called me this morning, and he said that Blue said to tell you he loves you and he misses you very much.”

  “Can I call him and tell him I love and miss him, too?”

  “Not yet, but I promise as soon as we can talk to him on the phone, we will.”

  Disappointment puts a frown on her face. “Okay. I sorta thought something was wrong when he was writing the bird prints in his book and asked me if I could read it. I hope he feels better soon, I really miss him. Are you still getting married?”

  If I have anything to do with it, then hell yes, we’re getting married.

  “Of course we are, it’s just postponed until he feels better. Don’t worry, okay? Come here and give me a hug.” Smiling, she crawls across the floor and hugs me, then tells me she’s going to take Mickey in the backyard to teach him how to do new tricks.

  It’s not until I hear her outside with the dog that I remember what she said about the bird prints and Blue’s book. Confused, I go to the closet where he keeps some of his things, and sure enough, one of his old journal books are in there. I pull it out and flip through a few pages of journal entries until I get to a page of the scribbles—only now I see they’re not just random scribbles as I’ve always thought. They’re actually bird tracks.

  What the hell? Here’s a huge red flag that’s been right in front of me for years and I was completely clueless.

  I wonder how many people with mental illness are walking around suffering in silence, smiling on the outside, and doing things like this that their friends and loved ones are just passing off as being weird, never realizing that they might need help.

  Maybe I never did enough, or said enough. I always let Blue lead. I always waited for him. That couldn’t have been good for me, or for him.

  I grab my phone and send Reece a text:

  Me:Can I write Blue a letter? Can you give it to him if I send it to you?

  Reece:Yeah…as long as it’s not harsh on him.

  Me:OMG no, I’m not going to say anything bad.

  Reece:His doctor might read it first, or with him. Just so you know.

  Me:I understand. That’s ok.

  Reece:Send it to me and I’ll bring it to him next time I see him. Should be in a little over a week.

  I go to the kitchen and find a stationary set someone gave me as a gift at the office holiday party a long time ago, and I sit at the table and write a letter:

  Dear Blue,

  You’ve written me so many letters over the years, but I’ve never written any to you. Don’t say I sent you emails, because those don’t count. ;-)

  Reece called me today. I’m sure you already know this, but he’s been incredibly sweet and helpful. He gave me your message that you love me and I want you to know I love you, too. Please know that, and believe it. I love you with all my heart. Nothing has changed that. Nothing will ever change that. I miss your smile and your laugh and I am missing the hell out of your pancakes.

  Lyric misses you, too. She’s learning so many cool songs that she can’t wait to play for you. We’ve taught Mickey new tricks. He’s such a great dog and I’m so glad we adopted him.

  I met your sister, Ellie. I like her. When she met me, I think she thought you were engaged to a teenager. LOL. I think your voice is better than hers. ;-)

  She told me some things but I want you to know it doesn’t change a thing from my end. You’re still the man I love and the man I choose to spend my life with. That’s not going to change. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me, and us. The ladybugs put us together, remember? They knew what they were doing.

  Reece told me you’re going to go public and I stand behind you 100%. You have nothing to be ashamed of in any way. You’re a strong, talented, amazing man. I’m proud of you.

  I know you need time. I understand. I know a new Blue may come out of this, and I’m here to meet him. I love Evan, I love Blue. I love all the parts that make you YOU. If you’re afraid to see me, or talk to me, please don’t be. We can get through this together. Let me be here for you. I’ve loved you since I met you. I’ve been yours since you screwed my brains out under the bridge. ;-) You’re my one and only and my everything. I’ve loved you at your best and I’ve loved you at your worst and I’m going to continue to love you through anything and everything. Even if you decide you can’t have me in your life anymore, I’ll still love you, and Lyric will still be part of your life. I promise.

  I’m still wearing your ring, and I’m still planning on spending my life with you, if you still want that, too.

  I love you, always.

  Piper xo

  I carefully fold it, put it in its matching envelope, and address it to Reece. I can’t just sit and wait for Blue to contact me while he’s in a hospital worrying that I might hate him or that I don’t want him anymore or that there’s no chance for us anymore. Screw that. I’m making the first move, whether it’s right or wrong—I feel like he needs to know I’m okay, and that I still love him no matter what.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  My hands shake so bad as I read Piper’s letter I can hardly read the words.

  Breathe, Evan.

  All the words I needed to hear are right here on this light pink paper with the faint purple butterfly in the corner. This paper came from her kitchen drawer with the wiggly knob under the coffee maker. I know because it smells like the tiny vanilla candles she keeps in that drawer. Sometimes when we sit on the back porch late at night we light those candles for ambience. It’s a hint of home, and a flood of memories of her naked on my lap with the glow of flickering flames dancing on her skin and holy fuck, her words and the scent practically suck me into a portal and transport me right back to her and her cozy little house.

  This is what I needed to help pull me out of the lingering haze I’ve been fighting to get out of for the past few weeks.

  Since I’ve been in therapy, I’ve tried to look at my jump—as I’ve appropriately nicknamed it—as a new start. A reset. I was at my lowest low, ever, when I was admitted. That’s pretty low considering the shit I’ve done in my life. A deep, dark hole was holding me prisoner with no hope of ever finding a way out. Humiliation, regret, and shame consumed me for not only doing what I did, but for failing so horribly at it.

  And the very worst part—for committing the ultimate betrayal to the woman I love. I promised her a future, and then I ripped it away
from her in the worst way possible, along with her heart and her trust and her years of patience and unconditional love. I’m sure for the lover left behind, suicide is the most evil form of breaking up imaginable.

  I didn’t see that when I was standing on the edge of the roof.

  The bird convinced me she was better off without me, and that I could take care of her better from somewhere above.

  Even though I’ve known for a long time the bird doesn’t exist, there have been moments of exception when he broke through the wall of reality and was real.

  Now with the right meds tweaking my brain, the bird is gone. I thought I would miss him, but I don’t. I miss the real bird—the tiny blue pet bird that kept me company when I was a little kid. The bird whose feather I wear. But I don’t miss the bird that was in my mind that gave a voice to my illness.

  I miss my ladybug. I miss her beautiful bluish-green eyes and the way her honey hair moves like silk over her thin shoulders. I miss her giggle and her smile and the way she purrs like a kitten when my hands and mouth are on her. Mostly I miss how she loves me the way I need to be loved.

  Ladybug,

  Your letter was like a light thrown to me in a dark tunnel. It helped me get through some of the hardest steps that I wasn’t sure I could take.

  There’s so much I want to say to you. My mind is jumbled but not in the fucked-up way it used to be. I have bouts of clarity I’ve never felt before. Words and thoughts come at me now at lightning speed. It’s overwhelming. Before, everything was always muddy and slow. I had to dig through it all to find and understand my own thoughts. Some days, I’m completely exhausted, but in a different way than I used to be. I feel clear and happy one day and sluggish and moody the next. The doctor says I’ll level out and things won’t always feel this way, but you’re right, a new version of me could emerge from this and I can only hope that you’ll still feel the same way about me. Right now I honestly don’t know who’s living in my head.

  Before I keep rambling about all sorts of shit, I love you. I love you so damn hard and I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or Lyric. Reece told me Lyric doesn’t know what I did. I wish she would never have to know but I also think she needs to know. I’ll leave it up to you on when and how you want to tell her. You can tell her, or I can tell her, or we can tell her together. I only want her to be okay and not be hurt or scared by what I’ve done. I hope she can forgive me. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you both how much I love you and appreciate you. I’ll never hurt either of you again. That much I do know for sure.

  I know I severed our trust. I don’t expect you to let that go easily and I don’t want you to. We have a long road in front of us, but we’ve been down long bumpy roads before and I hope we can get to the end of this one together. I can’t do it without you. Please keep wearing my ring. I’m still hoping we can get our happy ending.

  I never told you I went to a regular doctor on the road and got meds for anxiety and depression and insomnia. I thought it would chill me out so I could enjoy more of our wedding and not feel so distracted in my head. I didn’t know the wrong meds could make me worse. Apparently neither did he. I could feel my head getting worse but I didn’t know how to stop it. So, I took more pills. I guess Ellie was right and it’s good this happened because I never knew what was wrong with me. I just thought I was different, confused, eccentric, depressed, and basically fucked up. I drank and did drugs because I didn’t know how else to deal with how I felt inside or how to make it stop. Now I know what’s wrong with me has a label. Several. Bipolar, depression, personality disorder, dissociative, hypomania. I forget the rest, but that’s enough. My entire life I lived in this crazy abyss of emotions, voices, and confusion. I tried to exist in a world where others couldn’t see or hear things the same way I did. Now I have to try to sort it all out and find who I am in this when the dust settles. Some days I worry my ass off. What if I’m too different? What if you don’t like me? What if Lyric doesn’t like me? What if all my creativity is gone? What if I can’t write or play guitar anymore? What if I feel like a zombie all the time? What if the bird comes back?

  I want you to know that all my feelings for you were always real. Everything we shared was real. I understand you might doubt that now. You were never a part of my delusions. You were my only anchor. I always knew with you what was real and what I could trust. You saw the real me. I felt my best when I was with you.

  I’m sorry this is a rambling mess. I’m still learning and still getting better. I’ll probably never be normal, but I’m sure I can be more normal than I was. The doctors are helping me and they’ll keep helping me after I leave. I promise to stay in treatment and on the right meds.

  Physically I’m starting to feel better. I’m in physical therapy and still have some lingering pain but I’m not taking any pills for pain.

  Fuck, I just ramble a lot now. I hope that gets better or I’m going to be annoying as fucking hell. I was hoping to still write songs after I left the band but now I’ll be writing songs with ten thousand words.

  It’s time for me to go to group and share my feelings. I’m not kidding. I’m going to tell them I finally got up the guts to write to you. Maybe I’ll get a gold star.

  I miss you, baby, so much I can’t even put into words. I’m going to call you when I feel a little less rambly and jumbled.

  Thank you for not giving up on me and for always being everything I need. I hope you believe that and I hope you can someday let me show you how much I love you. I hope you’re okay and taking care of yourself. I don’t want you worrying about me all the time. I want you to be happy and feel safe and loved. I still want to give you everything in the world, but for now, we’re back where we once were and all I can give you is my love.

  I love you like no tomorrow,

  Evan

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Evan.

  First a crystal vase of beautiful exotic flowers arrived, and then two days later a letter came. Both from Evan.

  I wonder what it means that he’s suddenly signing with his real name. Is the doctor forcing him to? Or is he doing it on his own?

  Regardless, he’s reaching out and slowly letting me back in. I wouldn’t have minded if he rambled on in a letter of a hundred pages. All that matters is that he’s alive, he’s getting real help, and he sounds realistic and hopeful.

  And he still loves me. He’s not giving up on us.

  I needed to hear his words just as much as he needed mine.

  I’m filling the vase with fresh water from the kitchen sink when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number on the caller I.D. and almost don’t answer it, but I give in and pick it up on the fourth ring.

  “Hello?”

  I’m met with silence on the other end, but my heart already knows who it is. I can actually feel his nervousness buzzing through the line.

  “I was just giving the flowers fresh water,” I say. “They’re beautiful. Thank you for such a nice surprise. I was having a bad day when they came, and it totally cheered me up.”

  “Why were you having a bad day?”

  God, his voice. It’s been almost three months since I’ve heard his sexy, gravelly voice, and it brings me back to the times we’d go years without talking, and when he’d finally call, my insides would quiver and quake at the sound of his voice. Just like they’re doing now.

  I should keep the conversation casual.

  No tears. No questions. No pressure.

  “The usual stuff. I had to sit through five boring meetings at work and listen to people be assholes about unrealistic deadlines. Then my computer crashed and I lost what I was working on because it didn’t auto-save. It was just a yucky day. Getting surprise flowers from you turned my entire day around.”

  “Oh yeah? Just like that?”

  My fingers tighten around the phone when I catch a hint of his familiar teasing tone.

  “Yup. Just like that,” I reply. “I got your letter a few days ago,
too.”

  “Did you need a decoder ring to decipher my non-stop rambling? Maybe an IV of Red Bull to keep yourself awake?”

  “Nope. It was perfect, and it made me just as happy as the flowers did. Maybe even a little more.”

  “Piper…” His voice fades into unspoken words.

  I swallow hard and take a breath. I have to be strong. I cannot fall to pieces.

  I keep talking so the silence doesn’t eat us up. “Lyric taught Mickey a bunch of tricks. He can sit up on his hind legs, he gives paw, he can roll over, he’ll walk backward, twirl, and dance.”

  “She really taught him all that?”

  “She did. She spends hours with him every day. And when she’s not training the dog to do something, she’s on the harp. Practicing constantly just like you told her to. She learned some Pink Floyd songs.”

  “Holy shit. One of my fave bands.”

  I smile “I know. Mine too.”

  “Damn. I can’t wait to hear her play. And see Mickey do tricks. Is she home?”

  “No, she’s at my mom’s.”

  “Oh.” He pauses. “Does she know? About me?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Do you think I could talk to her next time I call?”

  “Of course. You don’t have to ask for permission, she’s your daughter. Nothing’s changed. She misses you and can’t wait to talk to you and play songs for you.”

  “I really miss her, too.”

  “You can call any time. You can come here any time,” I say softly.

  His breathing deepens. “I’m so sorry, Piper.”

  I close my eyes for a few seconds and push back on the tears creeping up on me.

  “Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “No, I have everything to be sorry for.”

  I don’t know what to say to him. I wanted to keep the conversation light and happy so he wouldn’t feel pressured to talk about any of what happened. I wanted to show him that we’re still okay, just like we’ve always been.