Lucid ➳ l.t. au

o n e: intervention

The skyline of London was adorned with a blanket of gray as the dark storm clouds garnered over the once blue sky. Raindrops began falling, slowly at first, but then much quicker as the evening drew on. Louis watched from his bedroom window as the drops of water pitter-pattered on the glass creating a cacophonous yet at the same time, soothing sound.

He exhaled onto the glass until his breath caused it to fog up. He then proceeded to draw a smiling face. The smiling face wasn't his, though he wished it was. He wanted to be happy like he was before what happened to his father.

His father had succumbed to cardiac arrest suddenly one dreary Tuesday night. It was very shocking to his sisters, his paternal grandparents, his aunt, but not nearly as shocking as it was to him. Louis had had a dream where he and his father were playing catch in the park, like they used to when Louis was ten years old. Everything seemed serene enough until the park became distorted and blurry. Eventually Louis and his father were standing in complete darkness. Slowly Louis was able to make out the maroon wallpaper of a small bedroom and then his father's face. He can still recall the exact moment in his dream where his father leaned in toward him to whisper that he didn't have much time left and that he wanted Louis to know he loved him. 

The most horrific part of the dream was that Louis' father had clutched onto his chest whilst saying this. Moments later he watched his father disappear into thin air. Louis then remembers waking up, feeling very frightened and anxious. It's not quite normal to have a dream in which someone you love dies. He made his aunt dial his father's residence immediately, despite the late hours. No one had picked up.

It wasn't until the next night that they received the dreaded phone call from the hospital stating that Mr. Richard Tomlinson was pronounced dead due to sudden cardiac arrest. The news brought Louis' world crashing down on him. The fact that his dream foreshadowed this and he had not thought about telling anyone made him believe he was at fault. He believed that if he had told his aunt his father's death may have been avoided. 

Louis was very close to his father when he was younger. After his mother left them, his father began to isolate everyone from his life. He would spend long hours at the office and wouldn't come back until very late. Louis would stay up just to see him and when his father would tuck him in at 4 a.m. he would smell of alcohol. "Daddy really loves mommy but mommy had to go see a family member in another country. She won't be back for a while." His sister Tammy would tell him but Louis refused to believe this story.

Eventually it was decided that his father needed alone time and was basically not in the position to be taking care of children, so Aunt Glenda took Louis, Tammy and Rebekah under her wing. Louis was the youngest so when Tammy and Rebekah turned eighteen, they left the house to attend college to study abroad and live in dingy dorms, leaving him behind to live with his Aunt Glenda. He worked as a bartender but his real passion was photography. So, he attended a local college to pursue a degree in it. 

Ever since his father's passing, Louis has not been the same. For one, he has not been sleeping like he used to. He was suffering from insomnia, but he never let his Aunt Glenda become aware of this. It wasn't that he needed sleeping pills he just assumed that if he didn't sleep he could avoid dreaming. The thought of dreaming another loved one's death was far too appalling for him to comprehend. He had even resorted to applying his aunt's concealer and foundation to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He didn't want her to know what was happening because he felt guilty about not telling her about the nightmare he had had.

Little did he know, his aunt knew him far too well. "You think I don't know that's my L'oreal Paris concealer under your eyes, young man? What is it, Lou? Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"I just wanted to know what it feels like to wear make up. It's pretty annoying if you ask me. It feels sticky." He lied.

Aunt Glenda gave him a concerned look. "Louis...please tell me what's bugging you. I'm your aunt. I will understand. I know you're not getting enough sleep at night. I know you're hurt. Just let me get through to you, I only want to help."

Louis avoided her gaze. Aunt Glenda sensed this as one of the telltale signs of utmost anguish. She knew Louis wasn't going to tell her anything now. "Oh Louis, my dear it kills me to see you like this."

The next day she cornered Louis at the front door as he returned from work. "Louis, I signed you up for a support group. It takes place at that bookstore you love so much. They meet there in the back room every Wednesday and it's only an hour or two of your time."

Louis let out an exasperated sigh. "Aunt Glenda..." he began. 

"No Louis. You will not complain. You will attend this support group every Wednesday until you can get help. Louis, it hurts me to see you all sleepless and depressed. I understand you miss your father. So do I, he was my little brother, but sometimes in life we must learn to move on." 

Louis sighed again. Here comes the life, death and moving on lecture, he thought. 

"Your father would never want to see you like this, Louis. He has always told you to be strong. Won't you be strong for him?" 

Louis nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll go but I don't think it's going to make any difference."

"You don't know that."