A Man Loved and Lost

“I can’t do this anymore, Ivy. I can’t handle you.”

The words struck her straight in the heart. Those words–such wretched, harmful words–were eerily similar to the last ones her dead soulmate had said almost three years ago. All except for the last one, “you”. James had said “it”, instead. “I can’t do this anymore, Ivy. I can’t handle it.” “It,” as if that was enough of a clue. “It” could mean anything and everything, how was she supposed to know what he couldn’t handle? Was it her love? Her devotion? Was it the world? 

Those were the last words he had said to her before he drove his car off a bridge an hour later. She was haunted by that conversation.

They were still slow dancing to the music. The band played on as Ivy’s entire world came crashing apart at the words of her current boyfriend. She couldn’t break down, not here. Not in front of the other gala attendees. They respected her and held her in the highest degree. She couldn’t show them her vulnerability.

When news broke about James’s tragic death, Ivy had been overwhelmed with condolences. People were kind to her, they offered patience and aid. But that care is not endless and eventually, Ivy was expected to move on like anyone else. These things happened, after all.

It was impossible to navigate. If you don’t grieve enough, then you’re heartless. If you grieve too much, you’re dramatic. 

The daughter of an actress, Ivy was used to her life in the limelight. However this–this overwhelming heartbreak, this extreme vulnerability–was not something she wanted others to see. It was stripping, naked, and embarrassing. So she gave the public what they wanted. She played the part of the heartbroken girl. Then, she moved on. 

That was what she portrayed to the rest of the world. Inside, though, Ivy was ripped to shreds. She could never show that.

“I’m sorry,” Archer continued. “But it feels like I’m always competing against a dead man.”

It was at that point that Ivy dropped his hand. She turned on her heel and ran from him, trying desperately to hide her tears from the onlookers.

“Ivy! Ivy, please,” Archer called. She kept running.

This was the first time Ivy dared return to the holiday charity gala after losing her first lover. She thought Archer would understand that, she thought she could trust him to be patient. After all, this was the same event she used to take James to. Of course there’d be some strong emotions.

No one followed her. Ivy eventually stopped running, expecting Archer to find her. He never did, so she wandered the halls instead. After ten minutes, she found her way to the bar on the second floor of the banquet hall.

Since James’s death, Ivy had grown quite good at finding her way to bars. She would call it a curse if only the drinks weren’t so perfect for numbing her aching soul.

She ordered herself a glass of champagne, needing something to ease the pain. She knew it was harmful to her health but what else could she do? She tried therapy, tried medication…nothing worked. Nothing was going to help her move on.

Ivy ordered another glass of champagne after finishing the first. As she drank it, the question of how she could ever move on lingered heavy in her mind.

Grieving a suicide is a whole different type of grief. It is quite possibly the most tragic type of death and there is no one to blame for it.

Blame is a key part of mourning death. Blaming something or someone eases the pain. It gives you an object to direct your anger and anguish at. Blame helps one to move on.

When a person dies of a physical ailment, there are doctors to blame. When a person dies in a car crash, there’s a car to blame. When a person dies by murder, there is a perpetrator to blame. Who does one blame for death by suicide?

Ivy could blame James, but that would further shatter her broken heart. How could she put the fault on a suffering man? How selfish would that be? To name his misery as the reason for her own? She couldn’t do that, not to him.

There was no one to blame, so she blamed herself. She should’ve seen the warning signs, should’ve asked him questions, should’ve made sure he knew how much she loved him. Because she loved him so much more than she could express. 

If only she had told him so. If she had done anything differently, he could still be here. He could be the one dancing with her in the ballroom instead of Archer, a man whom Ivy was only torturing with her incomplete commitment. 

These thoughts were self-destructive–that’s what Ivy’s therapist had told her. She tried to ignore it, the voice in her head telling her that it was all her fault, but she just couldn’t. The thoughts lingered in her head like a fog, covering all her thoughts and emotions. It was like she couldn’t find herself anymore. She was nothing more than a shell of who she used to be, going through the movements and barely feeling a thing at all.

When James had died, he took Ivy’s soul with him.

She was thirsty again, so Ivy ordered a whiskey sour–James’s favorite drink–and made her way outside, to the balcony. She couldn’t stand being in this banquet hall any longer, but if she left early it would raise questions. Her image was the only thing she had left and she would be damned if others saw her misery.

It was a beautiful winter night, clouds barely dusting the sky, leaving just enough room for the moon and stars to shine through.

She stared off into the dark sky for a long while, reminiscing about when she and James would sneak off into the garden to walk the grounds. Oh, how she missed him. Before his death, Ivy didn’t know it was possible to miss someone so much.

“Ivy,” came a voice from behind her.

She turned to face it, startled at the familiar sound she missed so much.

Perhaps she had consumed too much alcohol or perhaps Ivy was genuinely losing her mind. But James was there, in all his handsomeness, standing in front of her.

“My love,” she said with a gasp. She wanted to embrace him, to be held in his arms again. But he didn’t initiate any contact, simply sat down on the bench with her. She didn’t dare touch him. Whether he was real or not was a mystery she didn’t want to solve.

“I missed you,” Ivy said.

“I know and I am forever apologetic for that,” he replied.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you missed me.”

“Are you a hallucination?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does.”

“No, it does not.”

She accepted this answer, understanding that he would continue to dodge the question if she pried.

After his death, Ivy had thought up a million things she wished she could say to James. Suddenly, now faced with the opportunity, she fell short. Whether it was shock or awe, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that James was here and she had no idea what to say.

He started the conversation. “It’s been a little over three years, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And how are you?”

“I am miserable.”

He looked at her, questioning her with his beautiful green eyes. “Why?”

“Because of you.”

He bit his lip, an action he used to do when thinking deeply.

“It’s hard to do anything these days when I cannot stop thinking of you,” Ivy added.

He nodded.  “I was a man loved and lost.”

“You were so loved, James.”

“I felt it.”

Why was he being so nonchalant? She wanted to scream, to smack him, to make him understand all the pain he left her with. But she just couldn’t because deep down, she knew that he had been in pain, too. Seeing him now made that so much clearer.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

“I did a long time ago.”

“No, you didn’t. I know you were angry.”

“In my heart, I know that you were hurting. How could I ever hate you for that?”

“But now you are the one hurting. And I just can’t stand it. Do you realize how much it pains me to see you suffering?”

“Do realize that your suicide is the cause of my suffering?” she snapped.

He went silent.

They stared at each other for what felt like centuries. Even if he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination, Ivy was going to relish in his dream presence for as long as she could. In the years since his death, her memory of James had grown fuzzy. It broke her heart to realize that she was forgetting the face of the man she considered the love of her life. 

It started to snow lightly, glistening snowflakes falling delicately down. There was a certain glow about the balcony–or perhaps it was more of a haze. A wonderful, tragic, winter haze.

“I am sorry, Ivy,” he said at last. “I truly am.”

She sighed deeply and placed her face into her hands. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she’d be damned if she let him see her cry–hallucination or not. “Why did you do it?” she begged. 

“Because I felt as if I had no choice.”

“Didn’t you love me?”

“I did. I do.”

“Then why did you leave me?’ It was at this point where she couldn’t continue hiding her tears, so Ivy allowed herself to wail her heart out. Even after three years, the crying never stopped.

James’s eyes were full of guilt and regret. Ivy had always wondered what James thought in his final moments. If he wished he hadn’t done it. It seemed, at least a little bit, that he did. “You don’t understand, Ivy. No one understands until they’re in that position. It’s suffocating–like there’s absolutely nothing worth living for. It’s the most agonizing feeling.” He shook his head. “At that point, I assumed you would move on. That you’d find another person. I thought you did…”

“I can never love him the way I love you.”

“One day, you can.”

That phrase bothered her. The audacity of this man had to tell her that she’d be alright one day when she told him the same thing about his depression and he still went ahead and killed himself…

As if reading her mind, he added, “Look, Ivy, what I did was in a moment of complete crisis. It was never the right solution to my problems.”

She pouted. “I wish you could’ve realized that sooner.”

“There is nothing to be done about it now. You’re wasting so much energy on the what-ifs and wishes and I only want you to move on.”

“But how do I move on? I have tried and tried and tried and I just cannot.”

“I can’t tell you.” James stood, brushing the snowflakes off his pants. “But with time, I promise, you will learn.”

“I’m so tired of waiting.”

“Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.”

She groaned. 

“I have to go now,” James said. “I love you.”

Ivy watched him turn and leave, whispering the words, “I loved you,” back.

She wanted to run after him, wanted to hold on to any part of him that she could. But something in her kept her sitting there, only watching him disappear into the crowd. As much as she desired for him to stay, she knew that he had to go. So she let him.

As soon as James was gone, Archer came to replace his presence. He stood right in front of Ivy with a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry. For everything. I appreciate your patience, I really do. It’s just James..”

“That man loved you with all of his heart.”

“I know.”

“I love you with all of my heart.”

“I know.”

They went quiet for a moment. Archer looked down at her with pity and a touch of contempt. “So when are you going to start living again?” he asked in a tone so pleading that it broke Ivy’s heart all over again.  “James is gone. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. No matter how many times you call for him, he won’t answer.”

She sighed deeply. “I know.”

Archer shook his head. He stood, holding her hand in his, and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her gloved hand. “I can’t keep doing this–waiting for you to move on. Giving you everything while you only give me a little…” He dropped her hand. “But when you are ready, I will be here for you.” Then, Archer left her to wallow in her self-pity and misery.

She sat outside until her fingers went numb, watching the snowflakes cover the grass she used to lie in with her lover. When she looked up into the night sky, Ivy imagined James up there, dancing with the snow and stars, free from the pain that took him away from her. 

Perhaps one day she would be free. Her wounds would heal. She’d learn to be happy again. She’d learn to love again. Not yet, not for a long time…but eventually, yes, she would be okay. Years may go by before Ivy was truly okay, but time will always heal. That hope was enough for now.