Page 152 of The Design of Goodbye
“What about school?”
It was a silly question, but Liam answered patiently, “I’ll go to school there.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we go to the park?” he asked. “And talk?”
“About what?”
“Some stuff.”
I licked my lips, nervous. “Okay.”
We held hands as we walked. I held onto his tighter than normal because I wanted to memorize the feeling of his hand intertwined with mine.
Once we arrived, I claimed my normal swing. Liam stayed standing. We’d come here a few times, and he’d always been eager to swing. I didn’t think his lack of swinging was because of his sprained wrist, and it made me nervous.
“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.
He shifted. “I have to ask you something.”
He was nervous, too. I gripped the metal chains of the swing. “What?”
“When I leave...”He tugged at the collar of his jacket like it was choking him.
“What about when you leave?”
He leaned against the metal pole of the swing set and focused on the ground. “After the shooting,” he started, “they said I was fine. I had no external injuries, so they released me that night. I left with my dad...”He shuddered. “I never got any help. I think I need to.”
“You mean talking with a therapist?” He nodded. “I figured you didn’t. And it’s okay to need help.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.” I wanted to hug him, but I figured he’d stayed standing for a reason. “It’s a good thing.”
“Good. I...”He paused. “I don’t think I can get better on my own. Nothing is improving—the panic attacks, the nightmares. I don’t know how to control them.”
“When have you had nightmares?” I tried to remember a night when he’d woken up from one but couldn’t.
“Any night I’m not with you,” he confessed. “The first night I slept over was the first night I hadn’t had one since...everything. It sounds cliché, but it’s true.”
“I wished I would’ve known you had them,” I said. “I would’ve tried to help you.”
“You do help me,” he said. “So much that, when I’m with you, I forget.” He blew out a long, exhausted breath. “It’s why I need to ask you...”He faced me. Pain flashed in his eyes, and sadness clouded his face.
“What is it, Liam?” My voice shook. I was suddenly so dizzy it was a good thing I was sitting down. “What are you going to ask me?”
“Once I leave with Andrew, I need you to not contact me.”
I’d never expected that. How could he ask that of me? Especially after everything we’d been through.
“Why?” I’d wanted to say more, but shock had stolen my words.
“When I’m with you, everything feels right. Perfect, even. You make me feel like I don’t need to recover. I need to—”
“You’re punishing me for helping you?”
“I’m not punishing you.” He kneeled in front of me, eyes wild with the frantic need for me to understand. “I’m not explaining this right. Look,” he continued hastily, “before we met, I wasn’t in a good place mentally. And then I met you, and everything changed. You made me want to get up in the morning. You helped me.”
“Then, why are you pushing me away?”
“Because when I’m with you, I don’t think I need help. I think everything’s okay. But things aren’t okay; I’m not okay. I’m asking you to give me space to confront my past and heal. I’m doing this for us.”
