UNEDITED
Kaleb Jones is living the dream. He's playing hockey with Shea Smith again, dating the woman of his dreams, and has a promising future ahead.
Ella Taylor's life feels perfect until she discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her with...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ella
A month has passed and nothing's gotten easier. We're ten days shy of Brenna's due date—how I've been navigating my calendar lately—and Melody's presence still lingers in this house. The soft yellows remind me of her smile. The mint-eucalyptus candle makes me think of our nights where we'd drink wine and snack on a charcuterie board. And whenever I see the photos lining the hallway, my knees buckle and I sob.
I should leave this house. Return to the basement suite.
But I can't.
Ever since that day, I haven't had the guts to sleep in the basement suite. Kaleb's state of mind has continued to deteriorate. Leaving him alone would be a mistake. Ever since Melody passed, he's been depressed and drinking a lot. And some things he's said...
There's only so much I can take.
Everything he does reminds me of a cry for help, but he's impossible to help because he's pushing everyone away. He's doing what Melody asked him not to. Yes, that was a lot to ask, but there's always the ability to try. Kaleb could try to talk to me or Brenna or Shea. He could try to return Jayden and Hunter's calls. He's allowed to feel this pain. To let it consume him. But he needs to opt for healthier outlets.
Not drinking.
Not isolating himself.
My finger traces the rim of an empty bottle of beer. Then I look at the couch, where Kaleb is passed out. Kaleb's always been anal about his person hygiene, but he hasn't shaved in weeks. There's a considerable beard growing from his jaw and atop his upper lip. He's looking like a cliché lumberjack.
And the more I stare at him, the angrier I become.
He's part of the reason Vancouver didn't make it into the playoffs this year. Being one point shy is a horrible feeling. Ever since I was a kid, watching hockey has been a way to unwind. To take my mind off of things. But having Kaleb on the team complicates that for me. It feels selfish to wish they were in the playoffs, but what about me? The fallout of losing a best friend is horrible. It took weeks for my appetite to fully return. To feel motivated to go outside and enjoy the spring weather. Not having hockey as an outlet... Well, it sucks.
Plus, I've been talking to Brenna and the rest of my friends, trying to come to terms with the death of one of my best friends. Those conversations are hard enough, but at least we're talking.
Dealing with Kaleb is like dealing with a stubborn weed. He won't listen to me. Whenever I think we've gotten somewhere, the issues poke through the cement, cracking the very foundation we call home. He won't listen to me. Won't confide in me. I'm tired of picking up the pieces of his heart when mine is shattered, too.
But my stupid fucking heart won't stop loving him.
Hence the reason I've made him breakfast, despite knowing he won't eat it. Kaleb usually loves oatmeal with raspberries and blueberries that have been lightly dusted with cinnamon and brown sugar. The bowl sits on the island, steam dissipating into the air.
