It was weeks since Matt had died and she was still in shock.
You need to accept it, Karen. He’s not coming back. Foggy would say every time they met. He could see her mourning behind her new pair of sunglasses, and she would smile knowing that those glasses were as useless as the ones Matt used to wear.
I know, Foggy, I– I just can’t. She would say shaking her head and wiping away the tears she swore she would not shed.
She was trying to go on with her life, but she was barely holding on. She was consumed by that familiar feeling of hopeless emptiness that she thought she had left behind when she left Vermont.
Her job helped her to keep her mind busy, but it was not enough. Every night, when she was home and alone, the pain was there again. And all she could do was grab of glass, pour some whiskey into it, and swallow several shots before going to sleep.
But then, it was worse. Whenever her mind was not focused on work, she would end up thinking about the decisions she had made that day when she told him that they needed to figure out who they were. She should have been cleverer than that. But when he revealed his secret, she assumed that she still had plenty of time to tell him about hers. How naïve.
And those moments kept coming back to her in her sleep. His hand showing the mask. His face trying to control the pain. His tears rolling down his cheeks. And then, a blur. She could never remember the words she said, just what she heard. The tapping of his cane as he left the room without her. Her silent cries when she stayed in the office without him.
Every night, in her sleep, she would try to find a better ending for it. She wanted nothing more than to run after him, to hug him and to tell him that everything was going to be ok. But she was speechless, motionless. She would witness the same devastating scene again and again. And she would wake up crying, trying hard to breath, overwhelmed by a swirl of emotions she did not know how to face.
If only they still had time. If only he was still there.