61. A single white rose

SIXTY-ONE

A SINGLE WHITE ROSE

HARLOW

After making a quick stop to pick up some flowers, I decided against it and asked the shop owner if I could just take one single stem instead.

Sitting in Shep’s front seat, I twirl the white rose between my fingers and my stomach is a mess.

I know this was my idea and I know that it might not be a good one, but I can’t stop thinking about therapy today. Robin and I don’t often bring up Beckett in detail, but for some reason, today I felt like we needed to.

It’s been almost two months and I still don’t understand the way I feel about him dying. There’s a part of me, the one that was romantically involved with him, that’s sad and confused. But there’s another part of me, the emotionally damaged and angry-all-the-time one, that feels relieved Beckett’s gone and I don’t ever have to worry about him again.

Nobody dares to ask me about him. Not my family, not my friends, and especially not Shep. Laura is the only one who’s made a passing comment and it was only to tell me that if I did want to talk about it, she was there to listen.

Lennon does have a saying though she likes to throw around whenever she can tell I’m starting to overthink things. “Your trauma is showing,” she’ll say playfully, but it’s true and it helps bring me back to reality.

For the most part, ever since Shep came to my apartment and helped me wash my hair, I’ve tried to look forward and only talk about my emotions when they’re overwhelming me or when I’m with Robin.

Shep will check in with me of course, but he also gives me space to come to him on my own.

As we pull up to the site, a wave of nausea crashes through me. I can see there are still flowers and a cross, which doesn’t sit right with me. Besides all of those things, there’s someone else here.

The truck rolls to a stop and when we get closer, Shep quickly reaches his hand across the console to stop me from moving.

“I think we should come back,” he states in a serious tone.

“Why?” I try to peer around the windshield, catching sight of the side of the woman’s face and she’s clearly crying.

“Look, Harlow, I know we don’t talk about him and what happened, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.” His tone is low and I can tell he’s trying to stay calm.

“Okay, and?” I ask, still confused as to what I’m missing.

“That’s Beckett’s mom,” he states, with a stone cold expression.

I drop the rose into my lap and time stands still. I stare out the window and my mind starts running at a hundred miles a minute. At first, anger floods me and I want to spew out all the awful things I think about Beckett, but then something else comes over me as I watch her cry over her son who ultimately ended his own life because of his reckless decisions.

I don’t have sympathy for him, but I do feel sorry for her.

I move Shep’s hand off of me, grabbing the rose again before looking him in the eyes. “I need to do this.”

I unclip my seatbelt and open the door, hopping out of the car before Shep can stop me. I hesitate for a second, but muster up every bit of courage I have and walk over to where she stands. When I get closer, she turns, and when she sees me, it’s obvious from the shock and panic on her face that she knows exactly who I am.

We hold each other’s stare for a few seconds, her eyes scanning over my body and then they stop on the single white rose in between my fingers. For some reason, she starts sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” her words come out pained and in this moment, I feel the grief she has. Not for Beckett, the monster who caused me so much pain, but for the mother who lost her son.

“I take it you know who I am,” I whisper.

She nods, then wipes her face with the tissue she’s holding. “I don’t know what to say to you, other than I’m sorry. My boy, he…” Her words are lost again to her cries and I don’t know why but I reach out and touch her arm.

“I’m…” I swallow down the bit of bile that’s rising in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, then steps away putting distance between us. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know what he did to you and you have to know, he struggled with drinking for most of his teenage years.”

I stand there for a second unsure of what to say. While what she says isn’t an excuse to me, I know she’s trying to make sense of what happened in her own way.

“I understand,” is all I’m finally able to get out.

“Why are you here?” she asks as if it finally registers in her mind.

I laugh because a few minutes ago I thought I knew why, but standing here now, I’m at a loss.

“I’m not sure, but I felt like I needed to come out here and see this for myself. Maybe try and make peace with the situation.”

I hear the ground crunching behind me and turn around to see Shep finally joining me. He wraps an arm around me and I get the feeling she also knows who he is.

“I’ll leave you two,” she says quickly. “Just wanted to come out here before Christmas.” Her voice cracks, then she turns to walk away when something overcomes me.

Maybe it’s the realization that, yet again, at the core of this is a mother who’s lost her son, or maybe it’s because she’s about to spend a holiday plagued with grief and loss. Whatever it is, I blurt out after her, “I forgive him.”

She stops in her tracks and I step towards her, Shep placing a hand firmly on my back to give me his support. I repeat the words again, this time with tears streaming down my face. I don’t know if I’m saying them for her or for me, but I say it again anyways. “I forgive him.”

Beckett’s mom starts to cry and all she manages to mumble out is a broken, “Thank you,” before turning and heading off to her car.

I stand there for another second before turning around into Shep and breaking into a sob. I don’t know what for, but there are too many emotions overcoming me and unlike in the past when I’d want to shut them down, I try to actually feel them now.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shep murmurs into my ear, while caressing the back of my head. “You’re so strong, you know that?”

I nod into his chest, believing his words even if I don’t always feel them. After a few more seconds, I step back and turn to walk towards the cross that's stuck into the earth and lay down the single white rose.

As it leaves my fingers and falls to the ground, I feel something from me leave with it. The pain and hurt I’d been nursing for far too long lifts off of me and, for the first time since August, I feel a part of my soul being genuinely restored.

I walk away leaving behind the brokenness I carried for so long and holding onto a new belief of hope and healing for what’s to come.

I lace my fingers through Shep’s and let him lead me back to the truck while my thoughts still unravel. I’m not the same person I was when Shep and I first met and if it wasn’t for him seeing me, truly seeing me, I don’t know where I’d be right now.

Sure, I wouldn’t wish to go through everything I have, but I also realize that because of it, I’ve learned things I probably never would’ve. Things like how to help other people who may find themselves in an abusive relationship like I did. Things like how great therapy is and it’s okay to need help. Things like life won’t always make sense and it’s messy, but it’s beautiful, and there’s so much to be grateful for.

They say to be loved is to be changed and while I stare at Shep, watching him drive us back into town, I know that statement is true. Shep has taught me what true love is and shown it to me regardless of the bruises I had—physically and emotionally.

His love gave me the freedom and grace to change at my own pace. His love encouraged me to see my ability to receive gentle love. His love embraced my struggles and helped me carry my burdens. His love moved me to realize I deserved far better than I was getting. And it’s because of his love I’ve changed into someone who I’m proud to be, because being broken or having struggles shouldn’t disqualify anyone from receiving the love we all deserve.

“Thanks for taking me,” I break the silence between us. “I love you, you know?”

Shep smiles and picks my hand up to kiss the back of it. “I know.”