Most of the time, I don’t know what I think about God, or what happens to us after death. Maybe we aren’t meant to know. Maybe certainty is relegated to the stories we tell ourselves to try to make sense out of something that will never make sense. It seems to me that whatever power kicked this shitshow into motion isn’t interested in giving us clarity. Or guarantees.
I thought there were guarantees when I was younger, simple laws that governed the world. Youthrow a ball in the air, and it falls back to the ground. You push something down a hill, and it keeps going. Cause and effect to everything. If I just pulled the right lever, I could get the outcome I wanted. But that’s not how life works. I can’t find the lever to pull to make this all go away. To bring my mom back.
No matter how many times I relive Mom’s last few days, there’s no way I could have known what was coming, nothing I could have done.
Sometimes things just happen. Life is random. You might live happily ever after with the man you’ve been married to for twenty years, or he might run off with the woman he’s been having an affair with for more than half that time. Then, just when you get your life back, you might get cancer. That’s Mom’s story.
Truthfully, though, none of us escape unscathed. Life never pulls its punches. It hits all of us. Hits us again when we’re down. We’re life’s unwitting bitches, balls thrown back and forth, hit and kicked and tossed aside, again and again.
We still have hope.The words pop into my head unbidden and in Mom’s voice.
“Easy for you to say,” I respond, as if she really said it. “You have answers now. Wanna share them?”
Silence.
“Fine.” I drink my coffee and watch the sunrise through the window.
I’m not sure when I fall asleep, but I wake to knocking. It’s earlier than Kiara said she’d be back. I haven’t given her a key yet, so I rub my eyes andmake my way to the front door, still holding Mom’s urn under one arm, not caring that I’m braless and haven’t showered in days.
When the door swings open, Cosmos blinks at me. His gaze moves down my body. For once, I can’t bring myself to care that he’s seeing me like this.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp, but it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over. He’s already seen me lose it, and he did exactly what I thought he’d do. No more calls. No more texts. He left. I haven’t seen him since that day at the hospital.
“Can I come in?”
“Why?” I ask, voice weak. “We can’t stop time anymore. I’m a mess. You deserve better. It’s over. That’s the summary. The back-cover blurb. The end.”
“Maybe there’s a sequel.” He gently pushes on the door and steps across the threshold.
“You haven’t been here.” I wrap both arms around Mom’s urn and hug her to my chest.
Cosmos’ eyes follow the movement. “I wanted to give you some time.” He studies me for a beat. “Maybe I was wrong.”
I want the words he’s giving me, the hope in his eyes. But I’m so tired. Too tired. I don’t have the energy to hold myself together anymore. “Go home, Cosmos.”
“Look, I know how I felt when my dad…” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing down his throat. “I didn’t want to see anyone. I slept all day, barely left my room, almost failed seventh grade, actually.”
School. Shit. I almost forgot. My committee meeting is… I count days in my head. Today. It’s today. I glance behind me at the clock. I’m supposed to be there in less than an hour. Mom would kill me if I missed it after working so hard. “I have to go.”
“What? Now? Don’t run away from this, Hazel. From us. I know you think I won’t be interested in you now that we can’t stop time, but that’s not true. I… I love you.” He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say it. His fingers go to his lips, and my eyes follow the movement, momentarily losing my resolve.
I miss his lips. His touch. His sweet words. But I’ve already resigned myself to the truth. It hits heavy and hard. “You don’t.”
“I don’t know who hurt you, but I’m not them. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.” I place my palm on his chest and shove him back toward the open door. Touching him is a mistake. We both look down at my hand over his heart. I can feel his heartbeat speed up.
“Go,” I whisper, barely able to get the word out, clutching the urn like it’s the broken door Rose clung to at the end ofTitanic.
Cosmos takes a step back. Another. He stops in the doorway. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Then, he leaves. Reinforcing the truth.
I am alone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
