A Thousand Days
Holden
on social media since before the library fire two-and-a-half weeks ago. I didn’t realize how much those status updates and silly selfies were keeping me afloat. My entire world has imploded, and the only person who doesn’t try to give me advice is Grace. That makes her my favourite, even if she’s constantly covering me in drool because she’s teething.
My thesis proposal is stalled, my advisor is already threatening to quit, and I can’t type more than ten words at a time. Making sense of the endless research I’ve done is another issue entirely. It’s all hopeless.
I did what I thought was the right thing, but my family has still fallen apart as a result. My siblings have been boycotting family dinners in solidarity. My mother hates me for turning them against her, despite their insistence it was her actions driving their decision. We tried to have a conversation as a family, but she refuses to change her stance. I think in her mind, it’s become more a matter of winning.
Winning what? That’s what I can’t figure out. She just doesn’t want to concede or admit she’s wrong. Her stubborn nature has ruined everything she held so dear our entire lives. Meanwhile, I’m left mourning the loss of someone who is less than two kilometres away, not able to explain why love isn’t enough. That it’s hatred steering our course.
“How’s it coming?” Boyd pops his head in the office doorway, wearing his work uniform.
I blow out a long breath that says more than an actual answer would. “Stuck on the synopsis.”
“Is it the synopsis you’re stuck on? Or Dina?”
I spin in my chair to face my big brother. Our relationship has been a lot better over the past few weeks, and I almost feel guilty that we’ve bonded over something so… awful? Stupid? Disgraceful? All of the above. Along with Sam, Phil, and Phoebe, Boyd has gone above and beyond to cheer me up or encourage me to stay focused. It’s a nice change from the distant cohabitation arrangement we had for the past several years.
“I don’t know what to do. She…”
Boyd steps into our shared office he rarely enters at the same time as me, plopping himself on the edge of his desk. “What do you want? Mum aside. If it was your choice, what would you do?”
“We’ve been over this. It’s not that simple. I can’t just make a decision and pretend it doesn’t have anything to do with family. Or that it wouldn’t have an effect on Dina.”
“I’m not asking real life. I’m asking hypothetical.”
“Since when do you ask hypotheticals? I thought everything had to be presented with logic and evidence.”
Boyd is nothing if not pragmatic. But he insists, “This time, hypothetical is logical. What would you do if there were no external factors?”
My stomach is in knots because my heart is so confident in my answer, but my mind knows it’s not possible. Playing fairytale isn’t going to help matters. “I love her. It’s as simple as that. And I know it probably sounds crazy because we haven’t known each other that long—”
“It’s not crazy.” His interruption is full of conviction and understanding.
For some reason, my brother’s validation is important to me. Even while we’re talking about no external influences on my relationship with Dina. The real-life support matters. I know Phoebe supports me, too.
“Have you thought about telling her the truth?” Boyd flashes a sympathetic smile with one side of his mouth.
“Yes. No. I’ve thought about it, but every time I come to the conclusion it’s selfish of me. Just because I want to be with her doesn’t mean she should feel obligated to put up with things she doesn’t deserve.” The mention of this reality still makes me sick to my stomach. No matter how I spin it, there’s no scenario in which it makes sense.
“I know we haven’t been close over the past few years, and that’s on me. I put my life on hold when Dad got sick, but that was my choice. And to be honest, it was an easy excuse to drop out because I was barely passing my classes.” He stares down at the floor as I watch in shock. This is a brand new revelation. “Taking that break renewed my focus and now I’m in a better place because of it.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and scrunches his face. “Point being, I’ve always wanted what was best for you. If you ever had a different impression, it’s because I was mad at myself.”
A huge part of me wants to get up and wrap my big brother in a bear hug, but I get the impression he’s not done. I nod to encourage him to continue.
“One thing I’ve learned, though, is that success isn’t about academic or career accolades. None of that means anything if you’re not happy.” He chuckles, making his face relax. “I don’t know when I turned into a Hallmark card.”
Now I don’t care if he’s finished speaking or not. I stand and pull him in for a tight, brotherly hug. For the first time in years. I’m man enough to admit I get a little choked up for no real reason. Or maybe a lot of reasons.
Because one relationship that’s important to me is healing, while another is still a gaping, oozing wound.
Because my mother has prioritized her bias over my happiness.
Because I feel lost, with no clear direction for a life I had carefully mapped out.
“You’ve made me so proud—you and Phoebe both, to be honest. You both inspire me to pursue what’s important, and if Dina is important, don’t let her go. Give her a chance to decide.”
My brother is not what I’d ever call an open book. He has a natural way of commanding attention, but he’s also the first person to avoid any limelight. He’s notoriously reserved and closed off. This sharing session is the first time he’s ever confessed actual feelings. So while I’m busy processing that, I’m trying to consider his advice, too. I don’t think he’d intentionally steer me wrong, but I don’t see a way out of this. Not unless Mum changes her mind, which won’t happen.
“Thanks, man. Sorry if I’ve been a wet blanket the past couple of months.”
“Nah, don’t sweat it. I get it. More than you know.”
That’s ominous. I want to continue this deep dive into his feelings, but before I can ask what he’s talking about, he brushes his hands down his clothes, mutters a quick “See ya later,” and he’s gone.
His departure leaves me alone with thoughts I can’t make sense of. In all my years of studying, diving deeper into an inquiry helps clarify the facts. When you need an answer, you search for it, and eventually, you find what you’re looking for. There are few historical mysteries that have plagued historians for centuries. Was King Arthur a real person? What happened to the Ark of the Covenant? Did Atlantis really exist? Some things we’ll never know. And based on the last several weeks of analyzing, questioning, and obsessing over a solution, I’m confident my current plight will go down in history without answers, too.
I drop back into my chair, which makes it roll across the hardwood a few feet. Instead of resisting, I go along for the ride. My computer screen has gone black from inactivity, and since it put itself to sleep, I figure it’s time I do the same. The fact it’s 11am is irrelevant. So is my impending deadline. I’ve been letting that blinking cursor taunt me for two hours. The fourteen words I added to the twelve-page document hardly qualify as a contribution to society’s understanding of anything.
So I leave my sleeping computer, walk into my bedroom, draw the blinds, and crawl back into bed.
Heartbreak hurts like the dickens.