CHRYSALIS

44.

July 31st, 2020.

I can't believe I did it. That pink-haired therapist may be onto something, I do feel better. I feel lighter. I feel more grateful now that I've reflected on all the ways the people that I love supported me during that time.

My Frankie, my angel baby Frankie, he saved my life. He knew what I needed when I didn't want it. He knew how to love me when I didn't know how to love myself and he was always on my side, no matter what. I have a lot of great loves in my life, but the bond I have with Frankie is special. I know that it will change and get more distant as we grow up, but I'll never forget what he did for me. What they all did for me.

I don't know how to put into words what it meant to me, but someday I'll try.

For now, I just try to love them hard. I try to lean on them when I need to and trust that they've got me. Reliving those few months of hell made me so grateful for where I'm at now.

It's Saturday night, I'm in the chair that sits in the corner by the record player and the big window. I have a glass of wine on the table next to me and a view of him lying on the couch. His feet are resting on the arm, his glasses are on and he's lost in a book.

Tomorrow is Sunday, my favorite day, and I can't wait to see what it holds for me.

So tonight I'll say goodbye to this chapter of my life with no pretenses about just how ugly it was, but with an appreciation for what it taught me.

Still fucking sucked though.

Jojo.

The last week that I spent at my Dad's was maybe the longest week of my life.

Miranda went home after I forced her out the front door, but she still did daily check-ins. My dad came back home after the funeral, the lack of dishes and utensils in the kitchen was greatly concerning to him but Frankie talked him down about it.

Frankie left two days later, he wasn't very happy about it, but he needed to get back to his job and his man. I hugged him for a long time. Probably a full ten minutes at the airport.

"I love you. Thank you. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. I'll be okay. I know I will. Don't worry about me, okay? I'll see you again soon." We both cried as he made his way to security.

That left Dad, Harry, and Me at the house. I thought it would be awkward seeing as how I had treated Dad and how I had no idea where I stood with Harry, but it really wasn't. Harry and Dad got up around the same time, the ass-crack of dawn, so they'd chat in the kitchen and grab coffee while Dad left for work and Harry left for a run.

Harry would wake me up when he got back, make me get out of bed and change clothes and move to another room. I wish I could say I made it easy on him, but I didn't. I fought. I didn't want to get up most days, I wanted to lay in bed and pretend I didn't exist.

I was ugly in my anger, I said horrible things to him while I cried, I told him to leave, I told him he had no right to be there, I told him he was just my boss and it was weird that he was here. I let cruel words shoot out of me like sparks, but they fizzled out against his chest while he held me to him.

He'd hold me so tight I thought he'd break me, but when the angry words were finished the guilt followed and he'd hold me even closer while I cried. I sobbed my apologies, soaked them into his shirts while I clung to him in desperation.

He never left me. He never let me push him away. His jaw would flex and tense, he'd play with his rings, he'd go quiet on me, but he never left.

I still woke up screaming. I still wanted to break things, I still wanted answers that I would never get, but every time he was there. He was there to hold me or to sing to me or get me water and sit across the room when I needed space.