Chapter Text
In the past, if you would have asked me what my life would have looked like in the future, I honestly don’t know what my answer would have been. I will, however, tell you it wouldn’t have included a major move without so much as two minutes notice, but it also wouldn’t have included my fiancé putting a bullet in his head either. The night I found him in our bedroom in a pool of his own blood, gun in hand is easily one of the worst nights of my life, but all of the questions of “were there any warning signs?”, “was he seeing a therapist?” or, my personal favorite, “did he leave a note?” along with the subsequent police investigation; made the days that followed and leading up to his funeral harder than actually finding him. After so many repetitions of the same questions, I found myself becoming numb to everything. The constant dread of dealing with our families in the wake of his death made me bitter and resentful - not only of everyone dishing out their annoyingly emotional sympathy wishes, but resentful of what Kevin was putting me through. By the time the day of his service arrived, I just wanted to sleep and tell everyone to take their condolences and fuck themselves with them. But, nevertheless, the morning of his service, my mother pulled up to the condo that Kevin and I shared in downtown Chicago, and drove me to the church where I tried to hold myself together long enough to shake the hands and accept the sentiments of the 187 people that came. The moment I was out of those church doors, however, an immense flood of relief swept the overbearing pressure off of my shoulders. In it’s place, though, came a terrifying wave of panic as I stood on the steps of Kevin’s family’s church. Uncertainty rolled in giant knots in my stomach and I started to pace. Something wasn’t right. Not with the events of the last week, but something wasn’t right with me, with my life. Panic churned and my thoughts raced, but with a final, single thought, I stopped in my tracks just a few seconds later and everything became crystal clear.
I’m sure you could say that I made my decision too quickly. You could even call it stupid as I was about to completely uproot my carefully coordinated and successful life and replace it with a completely new and uncertain one. But in the moment, I didn’t care what anyone else would think. This was my decision. Not one I was making for anyone else - which helped bring everything into a stunning sense of clarity. It took me all of 10 seconds after Kevin’s funeral service was over to decide that I needed to leave Chicago. I didn’t care what direction I went, I just knew I needed to get the fuck out of there and I needed to get out quick. The fog of uncertainty had cleared from my head and I hailed a taxi without so much as a goodbye to anyone - my own mother and sister included. With a new sense of direction, I pulled out my phone and called the hospital where I had worked nearly six years as a trauma specialist to give my notice that I would not be returning to work at the end of the next week as I had told them. After a few minutes and several near-death experiences in the cab later, I pulled up to my building, payed the cab driver and walked into the lavish lobby, taking in the last few moments I would be spending in it.
Our condo was on the 48th floor, and I’m sure we payed way too much for it regardless of the stunning view of Lake Michigan. But despite having a beautiful place to live with breathtaking views of both downtown Chicago and the lake, there wasn’t much here that made anyone feel like they were in a home. After 8 years with Kevin, there should have been pictures on the walls or artifacts from traveling on the coffee table - or even a mug of half drunk coffee on the kitchen counter, but there was nothing. No signs of any actual people living there other than a glass of water on the counter in the bathroom and a blood stain on the bedspread. I walked through our place and collected my clothes, packing them in record time as I felt the walls close in around me. I was standing at our bed, staring at my suitcase and felt uneasy - not for the decision I was making, but for the realization that the man I had intended on spending the rest of my life with had taken his life so violently in the very spot I was standing in. The blood on the bed sheets had long since dried, but the chill of the room and the reality of what happened in this very spot sent a cold and relentless chill up my spine. I felt lost. Not because I suddenly didn’t have someone in my life, but because I had no idea where I actually belonged. All of the things I had accomplished to this point were things to be incredibly proud of. I was a doctor, I graduated at the top of my class, I lived in an incredible condo in Chicago, I was planning a wedding to ridiculously handsome and successful stock broker. But there were so many things that were also missing. I worked nearly 90 hours a week, I never saw my family, I barely had time for any kind of social life, and apparently, I completely overlooked the fact that the man I intended to marry, who I should have known everything about, was clinically and dangerously depressed enough to kill himself without even trying to reach out to me - or to anyone else. Where had I gone wrong? When did I replace accomplishments with actual human interaction and personal growth? Thoughts swirled through my mind with such ferocity I could barely stand without feeling completely disoriented. I didn’t just feel lost. I was lost.
I rechecked the the place for any last minute things I might need, and locked the door behind me. I put my keys in an envelope and handed it to the security guard at the entrance and told him to get them to the building manager and turned toward the door, knowing I would never see him again.
The next few hours were nothing but driving. No music, no stopping, just driving. I stared straight ahead, thoughts racing but completely focused on getting the fuck away from everything that Chicago had turned me into. I had gotten on the first interstate I hit and followed it. I didn’t even notice where I was until I saw my gas light go on somewhere in the northeastern corner of Ohio. Standing in the harsh lights of the gas station, I checked my phone to see what time it was. 8:47pm. I also had 34 missed calls, 22 voicemails, and 51 unread text messages. “Fuck everything. I just want to be alone.” I said out loud as I turned my phone completely off and threw it into the passenger seat. With a full tank of gas, I pulled out of the gas station and got back onto the interstate, still unsure of where it was I was headed. The only thing I new for sure was that I was headed east and that I liked the idea of it.
Several more hours passed as I started to feel my eyelids grow heavy and my stomach grow hot as it had been neglected of anything other than a cup of shitty coffee and a few bites of a stale blueberry muffin from the service early that morning. I pulled off on the closest exit with a sign for food and lodging and followed the streets to where I could find both. It didn’t really register to me where I was until I was sitting alone at booth in a dingy old diner right off of the interstate. I sat with a cup of steaming hot coffee, which I quickly learned was even shittier than the cup I had had that morning and watched the outlines of headlights rush by on the interstate. From where I sat, I stared at the high way sign bolted to the overpass and memorized every aspect of where I was and what I was doing. Everything. The cup of scorched coffee sitting on the table, the faded boomerang pattern on the tables and bar that had slightly yellowed through the years, the rip in the side of the bright red barstool, and the high way sign outside of my window that read:
BOSTON
CITY LIMITS
POP: 637,479 ELEV 141