Six Months Ago
I’ve been exhausted for weeks, and the past few have been harder on me than any other time in my life.
They’ve been even harder on Christopher.
We’re engaged, but I told him I want to wait to get married.
And that’s been hard on both of us.
It broke his heart, but there’s no way I can go through with it, feeling like it isn’t the right time. We aren’t ready, so even though I hated every minute of it, I told him that.
The longer Christopher and I live together, the more I am learning about him—grasping who exactly he is and seeing parts of him I never knew existed. I’ve educated myself, researched for hours, and studied the medication he takes. Pills I only discovered because I was putting his laundry away and found a bag of some prescription bottles hidden in his sock drawer.
I asked him to talk about it, but he said it was nothing.
It worsened a month ago when Christopher found out his younger brother, Corey, had died from a heroin overdose. He was only twenty-one, and Christopher hadn’t seen him in years. Once Christopher had moved out of his mom’s house and to Jax’s, he hardly spoke to his family. Christopher blamed himself for Corey’s death, believing that maybe Corey wouldn’t have turned to drugs if Christopher had stayed, taken him with him, or reached out.
Last night, I sat on the edge of the bed, tears in my eyes, begging Christopher to talk to me.
But he only said, “Everything is good, babe. I need to shower.”
When I tried to join him, he gave me a kiss, washed himself off, and said it was all mine. He was sleeping when I returned to our bedroom.
When I try to wake him up this morning, he waves me away and says he’s sleeping in. I have a meeting scheduled with 21st Amendment. They want to go over their marketing materials, so I tell him I’ll be back in a few hours.
Christopher needs sleep since he’s hardly been getting any.
He works nonstop. Which I understand.
New businesses required long hours.
The meeting is a few towns over, and I text him before it.
No response.
My mom asks me to have lunch with her. She knows something is wrong and wants me to talk about it. I tell her the same thing I’ve been telling others—he’s working long hours, and it’s taking a toll on him.
I text him again during lunch, but no answer.
Finally, on my way home, I call him two more times.
Nothing.
My next call is to the last person I want to speak to, but the only other person who might know where Christopher is.
“What?” Jax says when he answers because he greets me so well.
“Is Christopher with you?” I ask through my car’s Bluetooth.
“No.”
“Do you know where he is?” My heart speeds, and my voice turns frantic.
There’s never a time when Christopher isn’t with one of us.
“No.”
“Jesus,” I shriek, almost running a red light, and I slam on my brakes, jerking me forward and hitting my chest on the steering wheel. “Can you say anything else?”
“What do you want, Amelia?” He speaks as if he’s annoyed. “I’m busy.”
“I’m trying to get ahold of Christopher.”
“Then, you’d better get off the phone with me and call him.”
Over his bullshit, I hang up on him and mutter, “Asshole,” as I speed through the streets until I make it home.
Christopher’s car is parked along the road, in his usual spot, and I park behind it.
Then, I run up the stairs and into the house.
“Christopher!” I yell.
Nothing.
“Christopher!”
There’s no sign of him.
Until I step into our bedroom.
My entire life comes crashing down on me.
And life as I knew it will never be the same.