he were talking through a tin can.

I haven’t seen James since John’s death, either. We had grown far apart from each other because of the deep and dark depression I went through. Like I had done with my parents, I never answered his calls and pretended that I wasn’t at home whenever he would stop by my apartment. I had been too emotionally unstable to handle our relationship anymore, but I could never bring myself to officially make the break with him. Something now tells me that I hadn’t wanted to, but after months of not talking to him, I assumed that he had found another person because he grew tired of our tumultuous arguments about how I had been treating myself.

I start to feel a little uneasy and light-headed, not answering his question. He sits down beside me anyway.

He says to me, “I didn’t know that you had gone completely mute.” He smiles at me, but his smile also seems distant. Our knees touch, but I pull mine away and cradle my legs in my arms, rocking back and forth slowly.

“Sorry,” I answer quietly. “I was really lost in thought and couldn’t really form the words with my mouth.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I answered for you?” he inquires.

“Oh, no, you answered right,” I tell him. I force a smile on my face. I breathe in deeply and exhale for a long time, giving my muscles a chance to relax. I have been really tense for a while now, and contact with anyone makes me anxious. Unlike anyone else I’ve seen in the recent past, though, James has a calming effect on me. It really makes me happy to see him, but it still feels like there is some cloud hanging over my head, blocking the sunlight and keeping it’s brilliant rays from warming me. A chill runs down my spine. It’s still hard to believe that I’m here with James.

“Well good then,” he says.

We continue to sit for a while and talk awkwardly about people we used to hang out with, movies, and other neutral topics. I can tell by the way that he is fidgeting with his hands and pulling out blades of grass that has something greater on his mind. James had always been the stronger and more confident person in our relationship, and he only had nervous habits when something had been bothering him. My own mind remains empty and void of any thoughts. He finally breaks down the brick wall between us and says, “I really miss him. He was so good to you.”

I can no longer hold my emotions back and let the tears flow sorrowfully down my reddened cheeks. James puts his arm around me and lets me rest my head on his shoulder. I sit there with him and cry for almost an hour.

When I finish sobbing, James tells me that it’s good to let those emotions out, that keeping them in like I had been had driven me into a dark period of my life. “One person’s death doesn’t deserve to take another’s life,” he tells me, still holding me in his arms. I cannot help but think that he’s right, but I still refuse to let