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God, this fucking sucked.
Grief wasn’t just sadness. Anyone with a vague awareness of psychology knew about the stages of grieving. Kübler-Ross. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Like it was really that simple. Fuck it, he wished it was really that simple. Grief was fear too. Fear of letting go of what you lost because letting go seemed to devalue it somehow. Guilt because being the happiest you’ve ever been reminds you of everything that person missed. Derek had watched his dad fade away into an existence of unbearable pain, so at the end there was also… relief. Which brought him right back to guilt.
“Fuck those stages.”
“W-what?” Olive pulled away, looking around as if Derek had cursed something she would see. “Am I missing something?”
“Kübler-Ross.” Derek flung his arms out as if the name explained everything before wiping his face on the back of his hand.
As always, Olive was right there with him. “Yeah, I hate that bitch too.” She hiccupped, a strange, strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a wail. “Why didn’t I bring tissues? My purse is in the car.”
Derek dug into his slacks and found two things crumbled at the bottom of his pocket. A receipt from Sumittra that made him want to cry some more and a small silver key chain he’d carried with him since he found it.
“I’m ready to go.” Derek sighed.
Olive linked her arms with his and pulled him to her car. She grabbed her purse and tissues first, then she handed him a small cup and poured cold brew coffee from a thermos into it. It was already swelteringly hot, so they climbed into her car and blasted the air-conditioning.
“You glad you went alone?” Her voice was still a little unsteady.
“I think I needed to.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “Don’t be. I’ve screwed up everything.”
He told her what had happened with Michelle. With Dylan. All of it. Even what happened with Jake. He was sick of lying. He was sick of keeping secrets. He was sick of pretending he knew what to do about any of it.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the silver key chain he was still clutching.
It was engraved.
PEACE
The neatly wrapped box had been in his apartment on the table beside his bed. He hadn’t found it until Dylan had left. There was a card scrawled with a few lines of Dylan’s handwriting. He pulled it out of the center console of his car and handed it to her.
I should’ve watched more of your movies, and then maybe I could do this better. I know I’m not Heath Ledger, and this isn’t a Fender Strat, but maybe a key with an open invitation for always could be almost as good? I really hate the idea of missing you.—D
Olive shifted in her seat and then smacked him on the back of the head.
“What was that for?”
“For starters, you need to go get your goddamn man.”
“What?”
“Secondly, how oblivious do you think I am? Of course I knew you had a crush on my brother. Didn’t know you slept together.” She wrinkled her nose and made a gagging motion. “To be honest, I’m gonna try to forget I know about it now. I think you already know this, but you and Jake would’ve never worked. Yeah, for a while, I felt the way every girl with a perfect gay best friend and a perfect gay brother feels, like wouldn’t it be nice if they would just both stop being lonely and get together. But no. You guys. Not a chance.”
“Jesus, Olive, don’t hold back.”
“When have I ever? Jake was obsessed with traveling. And his job. And he wanted to move around someday. You are the biggest homebody ever. You hate hotels, for Chrissakes. And just for the record, you never once looked at my brother the way I saw you look at Dylan the one single night I saw you with him.”
“And I hated him back then.”
“Bullshit. Y’all had that I want to kill you and fuck you chemistry dripping out of your eyeballs at each other. You looked at him like you wanted to gobble his ass up.”
“That is the grossest mixed metaphor for attraction I have ever heard.”
“Admittedly, it wasn’t my best, but my point stands. Look at you, you’re a mess. But the good kind of mess. Something about your time living with Dylan got you to this point.”