A clash of thunder and lightning lit up the sky, causing a young woman to jump from her bed in the middle of the night. Her heart had seemed to stop beating for a moment, and was only now steadily pumping once again. The young woman tried to find the strength to breathe again as she wiped her grey eyes and pale cheeks with her fingers. She stepped down from her bed and walked over to the window, where the silk white curtains were fluttering and spinning about from the harsh wind blowing through the screen. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled down the glass window and straightened the curtains. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and retreated to her bed.
As she lay on her feathery pillow, she closed her eyes and waited patiently to drift off to sleep. Twenty minutes passed, and that moment never came. She let out a sigh, but was not too put out. The woman hadn’t been able to sleep for two months now, and the dreams that came to her when she was asleep were enough to make her wish to stay awake for the rest of her life.
Eleanor James was the twenty-four-year-old daughter of an influential American senator and a powerful English socialite. With youth, beauty, and extensive wealth, all who laid eyes upon her easily envied Eleanor. She herself possessed a beautiful summer home in Hawaii, and currently resided in a gorgeous apartment in upstate New York. She had been incredibly content and happy her entire life, up until two months ago.
Eleanor accepted her defeat, and left her bedroom to go to the kitchen and make herself coffee. Upon checking the digital clock in the kitchen, she saw it was four o’clock in the morning. Eleanor was surprised she had been able to sleep so long. As the coffee brewed, she sat down on her black leather couch and tried to watch the television — anything to distract herself from her dreams. Once that grew boring — for there isn’t much to watch at four o’clock in the morning — she grabbed some eggs from the fridge and turned on the stove. She cracked two eggs into a tiny purple bowl, added some milk, and whisked them around for about a minute. Then, she poured it into the shiny black pan, which she had placed on top of the stove. After cooking the eggs for several minutes, she scraped out the now scrambled eggs onto a plate, and squeezed some ketchup onto the side. Eleanor sat down at her marble island and began to eat.
She ate her breakfast, she drank her coffee, she watched television, she went online to look at the morning news, she went through her old Vogue magazines and an old family photo album, and when she went to check the clock again, she found it was only 5:15 in the morning. There was nowhere to go at such an early time and certainly nothing to do. Boredom consuming her, she opened up her daily planner, although she already knew what was to occur that day of November 21st, 2014. It was her brother’s birthday. She was to have breakfast with her family at around eight o’clock, and directly afterward, she had a meeting to go to.
Eleanor picked up a book and read for some time, but grew tired of it after about an hour. She then went into her storage room and began searching for more photo albums, although Eleanor was nearly certain that she had already dug all the ones she owned out. She had even borrowed some from her parents because she couldn’t find anymore. As she tore through old brown boxes and plastic containers, Eleanor came across her high school yearbook from senior year. It wasn’t a photo album, but it would have to do. She left the storage room, and sat in a comfy plush chair that stood directly across from her antique coffee table. She put her feet on the surface of the table, and opened the yearbook. Directly, she went to the freshmen section.
Mallory Abbott was the first face she recognized. She had dated her brother, Thomas, in his freshman year. Mallory had fiery red hair and tiny blue eyes, and her chin protruded too far. Eleanor had never liked her; she was rude and vain, and several inches taller than Thomas at the time. Thomas had always been a short, skinny boy. He stood no taller than 5’6 during his freshman year, and had not made it past 5’9 by his senior year. Eleanor skipped ahead a few pages until she found the name “Thomas Edward James”. Eleanor grinned. She always found it odd that her parents had named him Thomas Edward; each of her parents wanted to name him after their fathers. Fortunately for Eleanor, Mrs. James despised her mother. She analyzed Thomas’s picture; he still had the goofy grin, messy black hair, and shining grey eyes present in the old photograph. She always teased him about his hair — she said it made him look like a monkey. As Eleanor stared at the picture, she felt a tug at her stomach. His grey eyes were so familiar. She should’ve known, shouldn’t she? She should’ve known, even back then, that it would happen. She should’ve stopped it. She should’ve been there. She should’ve…
Eleanor turned the page, as she couldn’t bear looking at him anymore. Page after page, she finally reached the senior section. As she looked at the pictures, she smiled at all the familiar faces. Andrew Carmelo was one of the first she spotted. The incredibly attractive captain of the football team had been her boyfriend for nearly two years in high school. They were the “it” couple, were prom king and queen, and everyone assumed they would eventually marry. Eleanor and Andrew. It even sounded right. The school was in an eternal shock when Eleanor broke it off with him at the end of senior year. She insisted it was because they were going to different colleges — Eleanor to Columbia, Andrew to Skidmore — but Andrew told her he could make it work. Eleanor wouldn’t listen, though; and although there were still times, even today, that she would regret giving him up, she believed it was the right decision in the end. Then there was Paige Leeson, one of her closest friends throughout high school. They lost touch after graduation, but Eleanor still remembered her short blonde hair, light hazel eyes, and sweet personality as vividly as ever. Next was Marcie Murray, the closest thing to a high school rival Eleanor ever had — although there wasn’t much of a rivalry. She was beautiful — not as beautiful as Eleanor, but beautiful enough — and had dated the linebacker, Lucas Pierce, for nearly as long as Eleanor had been dating Andrew. Marcie competed with Eleanor for everything — the title of prom queen, the highest grades — although there was really no competition. The entire school practically demanded that Eleanor be prom queen, and the only competition with grades for Eleanor was actually Marcie’s boyfriend, Lucas. But that was less of a competition and more of a full-on hatred. Eleanor and Lucas had known each other since pre-school, and had loathed one another from the first day they met. Lucas had tripped her as she was going down the stairs on her way to recess, causing her to sprain her wrist. Later, when Eleanor overheard Lucas laughing about her wrist, she threw a water bottle at him— with her good wrist, of course — causing him to get a badly bruised right eye. No apologies were ever exchanged on either side, and they hadn’t been on good terms, by any means, since.
She continued to flip through the yearbook for another half an hour, and once she closed it and placed it on her coffee table, Eleanor was relieved to see it was 7:30, and time to go to breakfast with her family. She went down into the parking garage and stepped into her silver Mercedes Benz, which had been a gift from her parents for her 21st birthday. She rode off, trying to put any additional thoughts out of her mind.
The roads were emptier than usual — the temperature had severely dropped this morning, and many people were staying inside to avoid the bitter approach of a New York winter. The rain last night had turned into frost, and the roads were slipper than usual. When Eleanor parked outside her parents’ enormous home, she wrapped her coat around her, and tightly tucked a wool scarf around her neck. She took her long black hair out of the ponytail it was in, and covered her ears with the thickness of it. She swiftly ran to the front door and repeatedly rang the doorbell as the harsh bite of the cold winter weather penetrated her skin. Her mother, dressed in black, opened the door. A sad, but welcoming smile, invited her in, and Eleanor smiled back as best as she could.
“Your father is in the dining room.” Her mother told her, and Eleanor nodded as she wrapped her arms around her mother. “How are you, Mom?” Eleanor asked, although she knew the response. Violet James looked down at her feet, and then back up at her daughter. She shrugged her shoulders with as formal an air as she could muster. “Managing, I suppose. And you?” Eleanor sighed. “About the same.”
Eleanor placed her arm within her mother’s, and the pair walked into the dining room together, where the maids were bringing assortments of food to the table. Her father stood up, and approached his daughter. “Good morning, Ella.” He kissed her cheek, and she grinned at him. “Hi, Dad.” It was silent for a moment, until her father spoke again. “Are you hungry?” Eleanor really wasn’t hungry at all; she could still feel the scrambled eggs from earlier in her stomach. But she smiled and insisted she was, and the family sat down to have breakfast.
After some time, Violet glanced at her husband, and then at Eleanor. “Your father and I have gotten into playing golf, you know.” Violet said in a very purposeful tone. Eleanor didn’t look up, but only grunted to acknowledge that she had heard her as she chewed her toast.
“It’s quite relaxing. And in times like these… well, it’s good to have a hobby.” Eleanor’s father, William, added. Eleanor put down her fork and said, more coldly than she intended, “Are you trying to say that I need a hobby to preoccupy myself with?”
Violet’s face went a little white. “We’re only saying that it wouldn’t hurt, dear. Maybe painting or writing, or anything, really. You just can’t simply sit at home all day and wait for things to get better, because they won’t.” Eleanor felt her eyes stinging, and her heartbeat increasing. However, she dared not look up and face her parents; her eyes stared directly at the plate of food in front of her.
“He wouldn’t have wanted us to be sad forever, Ella.” William began. “He would’ve wanted us to move on—“ Eleanor slammed her fist into the table at this. “And why should we care what he wanted for us?” She yelled, tears bursting from her eyes. “He certainly didn’t think of us when…” And at that, she stopped, and abruptly stood from her seat. Her parents’ eyes, widening every second, followed her up. “Thank you for breakfast.” Eleanor spoke quickly. “It was lovely. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to go to.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving her coat and scarf inside.
Eleanor pulled up to the Life Transitions Center; a large brick house that had a welcome sign in the front of it. Eleanor held herself tightly as the freezing air attacked her while she walked up the steps and opened the front door. Inside, the other members of the meeting were already gathered around a polished wooden table, drinking coffee or tea and speaking amongst themselves. There were about fifteen people there, organized in a perfect little circle. At the head of the circle was a woman who appeared to be in her early fifties. She had a few wrinkles on her face, light green eyes, and straw blonde hair. She stood up and smiled at Eleanor, who was approaching the table.
“Hello, you must be here for the support group. Please, come take a seat.” Eleanor nodded and sat down without saying a word. A few more minutes passed, where two more people — a man and woman — came in and sat down. The woman was around seventy years old, and hardly said a word. The man took a seat by Eleanor. He appeared to be about her age, and had dark brown hair and eyes. He was handsome, but there were dark bags below his eyes. He seemed to be familiar.
“Now if everyone’s here, let’s begin by introducing ourselves. My name is Charlotte Hampden. Could you tell us your name please, ma’am?” She looked at the old woman who had just walked in, sitting to the left of her. The woman quietly muttered her name, which was Louise Streind. Next to her was a woman about thirty years younger, who introduced herself as Abigail Tyler. Beside her sat the young man who had walked in last. The man began slowly. “Hi, everyone. I’m Lucas Pierce.” Eleanor’s head shot up and turned to face him, jaw dropped and eyes wide. How had she not seen it? The boy she had hated in high school was sitting next to her… here. He had suffered the same as she had.

Lucas noticed her gaping at him like a madwoman, and was confused, if not uncomfortable, at the fact. When she introduced herself, he straightened his back. Eleanor James, she had said. The same Eleanor he had despised in high school. The snooty, arrogant brat who had gotten everything she wanted in life was now here, suffering what he had suffered. Lucas couldn’t help but feel ashamed at his ever hating her, not when she had gone through what she had. Eleanor felt the same.
The support group meeting came and passed. Lucas and Eleanor stared at each other for most of it. Their eyes met several times, and each seemed to be trying to tell the other that they should talk. After they had all spoken about their lives and what had happened and how they were dealing with it, Charlotte stood up and thanked everyone for coming, and everyone thanked her in turn. Everyone departed, except for the Eleanor and Lucas, who walked outside together.
They looked at one another, neither of them knowing exactly how to start. Eleanor opened her mouth, and then shut it again abruptly. Lucas began carefully, hesitation holding his tongue.
“So… Thomas?” The name stung Eleanor, but she tried to ignore the pain. She nodded. “Yes, it was Thomas.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair. “He was a good kid, Thomas was. Always really friendly, just a super nice guy.” Eleanor said nothing, and Lucas continued, a little playfully. “He was definitely kinder to me than you were.”
A grin played at Eleanor’s lips. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I shouldn’t have-“
Lucas put his hand up to stop her. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We don’t need to make apologies to one another. Not now.”
Eleanor looked at him. “You’re right. But I am sorry about Marcie. I didn’t know you two were still together.”
Lucas tried to smile at her. “Yeah, we dated throughout college and we moved in together afterward. I proposed to her last year, and she said yes. Things went downhill from there. Marcie and I always fought a lot, but for some reason, things got worse after the engagement. She kept freaking out about the wedding, about money, about how she wasn’t sure if we were too young or not, and she wasn’t sure I loved her enough. And about a month before the wedding, after a particularly bad fight when I went out to drink it off, she wrote a letter and took all the pills in the medicine cabinet.”
Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God.” She whispered, for she couldn’t say anything else. “And…” she tried to find the words, “And what did the letter say, if you feel alright with sharing it?” Lucas seemed hesitant, but began to speak. “It said that she was tired of being a burden to me, and that if I really loved her, I wouldn’t have hurt her as much as I did. She thought I would be happier without her. She said she was just tired of living. And that’s what I came home to the next morning.” Lucas sniffed his nose and furrowed his brow, his jaw sticking out more than usual. “Today would’ve been our first anniversary.” The frozen air was chilling Eleanor to the bone, and although she tried to contain it, she shivered furiously.
Lucas looked up at her. “Jesus, you must be freezing. Here, take this.” He said, ripping off his winter jacket. “No, it’s fine.” Eleanor quickly answered, but Lucas insisted, and placed it on her shoulders. She grabbed the ends of it, and tightly pulled it closer to her.
“So, you’ve heard my story.” Lucas began, “It’s your turn.” Eleanor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t even get a letter. I don’t know what happened. I got a call from him the night he...” She paused for a moment, not daring to say the words, “but…but I was already asleep. Imagine, if I’d just picked up the damn phone…” Eleanor stopped to take a breath. “The next morning, I got a call from my mom saying that the cops had found his body hanging from the ceiling. My baby brother. The kid that I ran through the sprinklers with when we were younger, the boy I gave advice to when he went on his first date with that horrible Mallory Abbott. My baby brother. He was so young, but I guess he wasn’t young enough to die. He’s been gone for two months now, and today is especially hard, because it’s his birthday. And I just wish I could know why. I wish I could’ve answered the phone that night. I wish I could’ve woken up. It’s a little ironic, because now I can’t sleep anymore, even if I try.” A gust of wind blew through her hair, and she tugged the jacket more closely.
Lucas stopped walking to look at her. “You know, I’ll be honest with you. Sometimes it’s better not to know. Hell, I wish I didn’t know. But I do. And there’s a lot of things I regret. I think to myself, ‘If I hadn’t left that night. If I had tried to make things right…’ But it’s been over a year since that happened, and you know what I’ve found out since then?”
Eleanor looked up; eyes red, cheeks drained and pale. “What?”
Lucas had this grin on his face, a little bit goofy, a little like Thomas used to grin. “I learned that you can’t hold on to the past. You’ve got to keep going on. We all make mistakes, but there’s no point in letting them haunt us for the rest of our lives. You’ve got to keep fighting, and it’s going to be hard. It’ll still hurt when you think about them. But you’ve got a life ahead of you, and just because someone stops living theirs — no matter how much we love them — it doesn’t mean we need to stop living ours. Do you get that?” Eleanor contemplated this for a moment, and then shook her head. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “You know what, I think I do. I think that’s the first piece of advice someone’s given me that’s actually helped.”
Lucas chuckled, and began walking again. “Happy to be of service. But I might add, coffee does help a lot, too. And there’s this great coffee parlor right down the road.” He raised an eyebrow at Eleanor, who was looking at him cautiously. “It’s on me.” He added with an encouraging tone in his voice.
“Coffee sounds great right now.” Eleanor said, no longer caring about the bitterly cold air that would accompany her on the walk there.
Lucas stuck his hands inside his pockets. “As long as you don’t throw it in my eye.” The pair burst into laughter, and Eleanor realized that was the first time she had laughed in two months. She wrapped her arm around his elbow, and they walked toward the coffee shop, and went slowly onward to rebuilding their lives.