Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
She inspects me with a world of pain in her eyes for several seconds before pivoting and tiptoeing in her heels out of the grass to the stone path. The last time I heard Suzanne laugh to the point of snorting, she was beached out on our bed with Emersyn, watching Bridesmaids on the TV. It was such an unexpected friendship.
“This is it, my love.” I rest my hand on the shiny wood casket while laying the tulips next to the large spray of flowers in the middle. “I pulled it together enough to be here.” Tears sting my eyes while I swallow past the mass of grief in my throat. After holding it together throughout the entire funeral and burial service, the reality of the very last goodbye hits me so hard in the chest I can’t find a breath.
My feet remain rooted to the ground for so long I can’t feel my toes. Blinking over and over, I wait to wake from this nightmare. I wait for God to say, “Oops, wrong person. Suzanne is too young and too good to take so early. My bad. Go home, she’ll be waiting for you in the garden. She’s picking vegetables for dinner tonight.”
Thunder sounds in the distance.
I don’t move.
The wind picks up.
I don’t move.
Sideways rain slaps my face despite the tent over my head.
I don’t move.
I know someone, most likely my family, is somewhere watching me. They’re giving me space and time. They know we can’t reschedule this moment to another time or day, so if it rains … it rains. I won’t melt. I will dry. I will live.
I’ll live without her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Emersyn
I’ll never forget the clatter of the lamp crashing against the wall or the thump thump thump of Zach's fist making a hole in it.
I’ll never forget his blank stare and lifeless voice on the day of the funeral.
But more than any other moment in my life … I’ll never forget what I saw him do.
I shouldn’t have been there, but after all the commotion, the yelling, the banging, and the tornado of anger, I needed to know if he was okay. Standing in the shadows of the hallway just outside of their bedroom, with barely a sliver of visibility, I watched. Crying my own silent tears, my hand cupped to my mouth to prevent a single peep from escaping, I witnessed Zach saying goodbye—his face twisted in agony, every time she moaned, stabbing a knife into my heart.
Time vanished. Had it been minutes? Hours? I had no clue. Grief paralyzed me. A numbing pain settled into my extremities until the only thing I felt was the burdensome thudding of my heart.
Zach slowly sat up.
I managed a heavy blink and a tiny step backward.
His shaky hands filled the syringe with morphine. The expected, the norm, the routine … it turned into something else. It took a moment to register what I was witnessing. My mind screamed, “What are you doing?”
My heart answered that question. It knew. It understood.
I had to leave. I had to escape to my room before he saw me. I wasn't supposed to be there. Whatever name there was for what he did, it wasn’t mine to bear witness. Holding my breath, my shock, and my strangled sobs, I tiptoed my bare feet back to my room. I left Zach with the final goodbye and her last breath because it belonged to him … and him alone.
“You have my number. Call if he doesn’t eat or get out of bed by at least noon. Okay?” his brother Aaron says to me as he opens the front door to follow his parents to their cars congested in the driveway.
I shake my head for a second, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “Uh … yeah.”
Today, his family is officially leaving him by himself. I’m not sure if they’ve been on suicide watch for this past week since her funeral, but someone, besides me, has been here the whole time. Day and night.
As for me, I’ve stayed in my room and out of the way since the night she died. I think their families have forgotten I’m here, except when I've slithered out of my room to tidy the kitchen or clean out the fridge and freezer to accommodate all the food.
“Emersyn?”
My gaze shoots to Aaron’s, and I force a smile. “Yes. I’ve got this. No problem,” I say with questionable confidence as I pretend I’ve got this.
After a moment’s pause, Aaron nods. “Thanks. Talk soon.”
The door shuts behind him, and the house is silent for the first time in a week. I pad my way to his bedroom—their bedroom—to check on him. Zach is curled on his side—jeans, no shirt, hugging a pillow. I think it’s Suzie’s pillow. He’s holding her.
It’s a few minutes before seven. I’m not sure if he had dinner, but I’m not going to ask. I won’t say a word to him tonight. I’ll deal with him tomorrow. After taking a few steps, I turn and go to the plant room. Snatching Suzie’s quilt from her chair, I take it to the bedroom and drape it over Zach before closing his door to keep Harry Pawter from bothering him.