Chapter Text
A Hawthorne did this.
What begins a bet? Not that.
Happy birthday, Lyra.
Lie-ra.
Lie-ra.
Lie-ra.
“Lyra!”
Lyra jolted. She blinked and looked down at the phone in her hand, her mother’s concerned face staring back at her.
“Yeah?” Lyra asked, feigning casual.
Her mother sighed. “It was that dream again, wasn’t it?”
“Is it really a dream if I’m awake?” Lyra deflected.
Her mother sighed again. “You went someplace else, hon. It scares me.”
“I know,” Lyra said, setting her phone against the wall. Anything to avoid her mother’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” her mother said. “Just promise me you’ll go to therapy.”
It was Lyra’s turn to sigh. “I already signed up. I have an appointment in an hour, remember?”
“I know that. I just don’t want you skipping out on it.”
“I won’t skip out. I promise.”
Her mother gave her a shrewd look, but Lyra simply returned it. Finally, her mother let up.
“I have to go. I love you!”
“I love you, too, Mom,” Lyra said, hanging up the phone. She stared at the device in her hand, weighing it. Part of her wanted to throw it against the wall, but she knew that would just result in a “surprise visit” from her mother… and possibly father. Well, step-father. Her bio father was dead. She flinched at the thought, the imaginary gunshot she heard in her head.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe therapy was the go-to. Maybe talking to someone would help.
She still wished she’d kept her mouth shut, but what could be done now? She’d been hiding this secret for nearly three years—was it any wonder it poured out of her one drunken night?
Lyra pursed her lips. There was nothing to be done about it now, anyway. She stood up and went to slip on her sneakers. The counseling building was across campus, and there was a coffee shop on the way. She would need an iced matcha if she was going to get through this session.
“So, Lie-ra, is it?” the therapist asked. She’d introduced herself as Lisa, sitting behind her desk and tapping away at her laptop. It wasn’t what Lyra expected from a therapist, but who was she to judge?
“Lyra,” she corrected.
“Lyra,” Lisa repeated, nodding to herself. She typed something else on her computer, probably notating the pronunciation of Lyra’s name. “So, what brings you in today?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother made you, or as in, your problem is your mother?”
“My mother made me,” Lyra said. She hesitated, then: “My father is why I’m here.”
Lisa nodded again, tap-tap-tapping away. “Okay, can you tell me a little about that?”
Lyra took a deep breath in through her nose, then let it out through her mouth. She explained the dream, leaving nothing out. When she was done, Lisa had stopped typing and was nodding sympathetically.
“That sounds very traumatic, wouldn’t you say?” she asked.
Lyra blinked. “I guess so.”
“Mmhmm.” Lisa nodded again. “What would you say your grief process has been like?”
“My grief process?”
“Yes, you know, the seven stages of grief? Anger, denial, all that jazz?”
“I guess… I guess I’d say I haven’t, y’know, grieved. What’s there to grieve?”
Lisa looked at her with something akin to pity. “You lost your biological father at a very young age, in a very traumatic way. I’d say there’s plenty to grieve.”
“I don’t—” Lyra took a breath. “I don’t know what to grieve. I’ve had a good life. My dad, my step-dad technically, he’s always been there for me. I haven’t needed, y’know, him.”
“Him meaning your bio dad?”
“Yes.” Lyra fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I think part of why this dream is still haunting you so much,” Lisa began, “is because you haven’t grieved. You’re letting all of this trauma and hurt fester, and you’re not giving it an outlet.”
“So what? I’m supposed to grieve a man I never met? Or, at least, don’t remember meeting?” Lyra asked.
Lisa gave a close-lipped smile. “Something like that. Here.” Her hand circled her desk like a vulture before finding what she wanted, swooping down and snatching up a card. She handed it to Lyra, who took it.
“We have weekly grief sessions, every Thursday night,” Lisa told Lyra. “It’s a space to talk and air out feelings and just be. I think you’d benefit from it.”
“So, this instead of these sessions?” Lyra asked.
Lisa shook her head. “No, this is in addition to these sessions. We should still talk one-on-one, but I think a grief circle would do you a lot of good. You obviously don’t have to attend, but I think you’d be surprised what you gain from it.”
Lyra looked at the card in her hand. It said the grief circle started at 6 pm.
“How long does it last?”
“Only about an hour,” Lisa said. “And we provide cookies and lemonade!” She said the last part like it would really sell it, like that would be the thing to tip Lyra over the fence.
“And if I don’t like it, I don’t have to keep going?”
“Everything is optional.”
Lyra closed her eyes and imagined what her mother would say if she knew about the grief circle. Anything to help you move past this, hon. Lyra opened her eyes, blinking back tears. She did want to move past this.
What would one session hurt?
Lyra showed up five minutes early to the session, and nearly every seat in the circle was full. Her heart galloped at the thought of spilling her guts in front of all of these people.
“Hi, there!” A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair appeared beside her. Lyra nearly jumped out of her skin. “I’m Matt, the leader of the grief session.” He held his hand out, and Lyra took it gently.
“I’m Lyra,” she said.
Matt smiled. “Well, Lyra, please, grab a cookie and a seat. We’ll get started in a few minutes.”
Lyra felt too self-conscious to grab a cookie, but she did take a seat, clasping her hands in her lap. She glanced around the circle, taking in the other people who’d come to this grief thing. Her eyes caught on blond hair, and she held in a gasp. Lyra knew that he went to Harvard, but she’d never expected to run into him, especially at a grief counsel circle of all places. But there he was:
Grayson Hawthorne.
He wore a gray suit, an expensive looking watch on his wrist. He lounged in the folding chair like it was a throne, his hands on his knees. His blond hair was tousled, a strand hanging in front of his forehead. And just as Lyra was about to look away, his eyes caught hers. Liquid gray, almost silver.
Lyra tore her gaze from his, choosing instead to stare down at her hands. She swallowed hard and chanced a glance up through her eyelashes in his direction. He’d already moved on. Lyra let out a breath.
Unbidden, Lyra’s thoughts jumped to the phone conversations she’d had with him. How did you get this number? and Stop calling rang through her head.
“Okay, all, let’s go ahead and get started!” Matt said, settling into his seat at the head of the circle, or at least, what Lyra assumed to be the head of the circle. “We have a new face today. Let’s give a warm welcome to Lyra, everyone!” He started clapping, and the rest of the group clapped with him, curious gazes focusing in on Lyra. She shrank into herself, hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“Lyra,” Matt said, “would you like to share anything today, or just listen?”
Lyra shook her head. “Just listen.”
And listen she did. Ally went first and talked about her mother passing away two years ago. Leonard was next. Then Gregory. Then Frankie. All talked about someone they’d lost, all fairly recently. Lyra felt like a fraud sitting there, listening to all of these people discuss people near and dear to them. She’d barely known her biological father. Hell, she hadn’t known him. She had nothing to grieve. What was she even doing here?
“Grayson, let’s finish up with you today,” Matt said. Everyone turned to look at the blond. A muscle in his jaw ticked. He sat forward, gripping his knees.
“Alright,” Grayson said, his voice low, just like Lyra remembered. “My grandfather passed away about three years ago.”
Lyra knew that. She was pretty sure everyone knew that. It had been all over the news. It had been what started her dreams.
“I’ve talked about him a few times,” Grayson continued, “but today, I wanted to talk about my… girlfriend.”
Lyra wondered if anyone else picked up on the way Grayson hesitated when he said girlfriend.
“She passed away four years ago,” Grayson said. Ally gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “We were… She had heart problems, and the night she died, we went cliff diving. I should have said no, but she always wanted to do the next greatest thing, and I couldn’t say no. I went to get towels after we jumped, and when I came back, she was dead.”
Grayson’s jaw clenched once more. “It took a long time for me to stop blaming myself, and I still have trouble if I’m being honest. I don’t… I don’t know. She was the first girl I loved, and now she’s gone forever. It just hits me sometimes. The anniversary of her death is coming up. I suppose she’s just been on my mind.”
Everyone was silent, waiting to see if he’d say anything else, but when he didn’t, Matt cleared his throat.
“Thank you for sharing, Grayson,” he said. “I’m sure that was difficult. But let me be the first to say that what happened was not your fault. If you’d like to talk more, please let me know. As for now, we’re out of time. It was wonderful seeing all of you and lovely to meet you, Lyra. Please, everyone, grab cookies on the way out!”
Lyra stood along with everyone else and followed the trail to the cookies. She picked a chocolate chip one and wrapped it in a napkin, deciding to eat it in her dorm. When she turned around, Grayson Hawthorne was there, staring at her strangely. Lyra jumped for the second time that day.
“Um, hi?” Lyra said.
“Hello,” Grayson said.
Lyra looked around, but the room was quickly emptying. She licked her lips and turned back to Grayson, determined to end this conversation as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry about your girlfriend,” she said.
“Thank you,” Grayson replied, tilting his head slightly as if to take her in better. “Are you— Have we met before?”
Lyra hoped she hadn’t turned beet red. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.” It wasn’t technically a lie. They’d never actually met before.
“You just,” Grayson started, then huffed. “I’m sorry. Your voice sounds familiar.”
Lyra panicked. “I get that a lot.”
Grayson’s gaze turned confused. “You… do?”
“Yep,” Lyra lied. “I guess I just have one of those voices.” Was that even a thing? Lyra didn’t know.
“I see,” Grayson said.
“Well, I have to go,” Lyra lied once more. “I have an assignment due at midnight. Bye!” With that, Lyra put her head down and hurried around Grayson and out the door.