Gravity: A Salvation Society Novel by K.L. Jessop & Salvation Society

Author:K.L. Jessop & Salvation Society [Jessop, K.L. & Society, Salvation]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Thorns Press
Published: 2021-05-08T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Grayson

“Are we okay?” Asher asks, standing in front of me as I sit at the patio table of the Nelsons’ backyard. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, apprehension and remorse clouding his features, while the dark shadows under his eyes tell me that he has had another night of drinking.

We’ve not spoken since yesterday, and the only reason we are together now—at his parents’—is because he’s due to fly out soon. I’m still mad at him for the things he said. However, for the sake of those around me, I push that frustration down for another time.

A part of me is glad the heated discussion took place because it has enabled me to sort my head out, confess my troubles and seek the direction I need to go in order to get out of the war I’m trapped in. Opening up to Nora like I did made me realize I can’t keep walking down the same road because nothing I do will change the past or bring Mom back.

Her things—not her favorite blanket, nor the books she’d not touched in years—haven’t filled my thoughts with the memories I hoped they’d create. They’ve just loaded me with more torture and suffering because she’s not here to use them like she once did. I’d known part of my prolonged grief was because of this, and each time I walked into my house, the weight of her memory had got harder to carry.

But what was I to do?

I wanted the mother I once knew: the one before the drink, the one I’d loved seeing in her rocking chair on a morning. I’d got lost in those haunted dreams, and they’d filled me with grief that had taken over faster than I’d known how to control. Now, I’ve admitted and accepted my past, even though I have a little while to go before I can truly breathe again.

But as I look up at my friend, I feel he’s oblivious to the demons that rest over him—the ones he believes he should face each day. Denial is one of the many symptoms of PTSD, and I believe Asher is engulfed in that right now. The only form of control he has over those torments are booze and war. However, no matter the things that have been said and done, I can’t let him head off knowing that we weren’t talking. I’m not that much of an asshole.

I exhale, exhausted with the events from the last twenty-four hours. “We are,” I state, sitting forward. “But it doesn’t mean it’s forgotten.”

“Somehow I didn’t think it would be.”

“You were a prick on every level, and regardless of your mindset, Asher I’m with Mark on this one. Running away isn’t going to change what’s happening at home. I just hope you realize that.”

He falls quiet for a moment, and I let the silence between us settle—knowing he’s absorbing my words—hoping he will change his mind and stay but knowing he won’t because he’s too goddamn stubborn.

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