Promise Me Sunshine

by Cara Bastone

But the thing about losing the person you love the most on earth is—somehow—you still have to do mundane things like tie your shoes and make enough money to continue to exist in this punishing world.

Just to keep the Froot Loops on the table.

It’s probably apropos to mention that I instantaneously spin elaborate fantasies about almost every man I ever meet. Not to say that this guy isn’t special; I have just fallen in love, after all.

Reese and Ainsley are a delightfully odd couple.

You can’t live dead, you know.”

We’ll make a list. All you’ll have to do is check the boxes. Pick task, perform task, reclaim your joie de vivre.”

“Can there be no more items for now? It hurts to think about it.” “I feel I should warn you. It’s probably never going to not hurt. Just thought you should know.”

This is a love story, I swear. This is what happens when you’ve promised someone you’ll live again.

Not strung out, just having a debilitating mental health crisis while navigating the most excruciating chapter of my life.

It’s my weak spot. I hate making other people worry about me.

But the thing about thanking someone is that it requires acknowledgment that the situation is, in fact, real. And I just can’t bring myself to do that.

know I’m not good with people. I’m not…gentle. But I don’t think you need someone gentle.”

You need strong. You need someone who can stop you from fighting large men on the street. You need someone who can wade in and pull you out of the swamp if you need me to. And I can be that person.”

“I am not easy to shake off, Lenny. Look at Reese, she hasn’t figured out how to. I’m stubborn. If you need to cross things off your list to survive, I’ll do that. I can carry someone on my back if I have to.”

“Lenny, not a soul on earth is good at this.”

“Home is where the heart is. My heart died in a cancer ward six months ago.”

“Honey?” I ask, one eyebrow hiking up my forehead. “Such a sweet name for someone so…you.”

That man just crossed something off Lou’s list for me.

His hand clamps my shoulder. I’m here, it says. So are you, it says.

“Grief wingman, you know.”

Time dogpiles me and I marvel at the fact that anyone, ever, has the strength to get up off the floor.

“So why didn’t you call me?” “What do you mean?” “If you couldn’t sleep, or needed to talk, you should have called me. I shouldn’t be finding out that you had a sleepless night because I happen to run into you when you drag your rotting carcass to work.”

“Lenny, I didn’t suggest this because I thought it would be easy. I don’t care if it’s hard. Of course it’s hard. But in order for me to be there for you, I need to actually be there. So what if I lose a couple hours of sleep.”

“The point was that when we were together, just the two of us, we didn’t spend any time worrying about being pretty. It was that being ugly was okay, no big deal.”

I’m standing there watching him fix everything and tears are drop-drop-dropping off my nose.

When I first met him, all I would have heard was judgment in that question. But now I can hear his earnest concern and confusion.

But if you can get a kid talking about their life in a different way then you’ll usually get more insight into how they actually feel.”

It’s a Tupperware with a sticky note stuck to the top. Eat this, it says. What a poet.

Instead of panicked sadness, I simply feel that I might be briefly living inside a wonderful moment.

“I think when you’re depressed sometimes it’s easy to think that everyone is depressed? But right this very second, there are billions of people having happy moments. I kind of forgot about those people. I thought I knew how everything worked. And that all of it was terrible.”

“Something good for you.” He points at the oatmeal. “Something bad for you.” He points at the croissant. “And a change of scenery.” He points at the bakery.

“No. Of course not. It doesn’t actually fix anything. But it buys you a little time.”

There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re getting used to a new reality. You don’t know how to live right now. It’ll all come back. You’ll take care of yourself again someday.

now you’ve got this new heart. And you’re getting used to it. No one would expect you to run up a hill right after a heart transplant. Go slow. Go easy on yourself.”

“Most of the time life is easy, but we think it’s hard. Then something actually hard happens.” His knee knocks mine again. “It’s normal not to know how to get to the other side. You’ve never done it before.”

Next time I want to say fuck you to somebody I’ll just shout endure it instead.

apparently he can promise sunshine because the old girl has made an appearance, bouncing silver off the ocean.

“He’s not a Prince Charming. They’re never a Prince Charming. Who wants Prince Charming? I want someone as screwed up as I am so I don’t suffer by comparison.”

“Well, duh. Miles, you’re my…” Grief wingman? List doula? Only companion these days? “Ace.”

But Miles isn’t just a friend. He’s also my version of George’s son. He’s my handler. My manager. My personal EMT worker. My cook.

“I’ll attach you to me with a leash. You won’t get lost.”

“I don’t want you to be healthy for me. I want you to be healthy for you. So…if you need to do something you’ll regret…let’s do it. I’m in. Just not your hair.”

I’m falling but for the first time in a long time I’m not terrified of the concrete. Maybe there is no concrete. Maybe there’s just all this brilliant color in messy strokes. Leaves and sky and air and water water water, rushing by. Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time and the entire world is not through my eyes.

“But try not to be too weird in front of our new friends.”

“Grieving people are scary.”

“Lenny, the stakes are low with you because you’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met. You’re fully on my team. Now that you’re here, I think there’s very little I could do to kick you out…I don’t have to worry about losing you. I can just…relax.”

Today, I’m your enforcer.”

He stops walking and frowns at me. “You’re not my revenge date. You’re my…copilot.”

Maybe you’re right. But it’s all so much more exhausting than it used to be. Plus, these days I get nervous. I didn’t use to get nervous all the time.”

I’ve been crying. And she’s crying, too. And now we’re both bald and five feet apart and the world is rushing at us top speed.