Willow’s shoulders shook, and she dropped to her knees. One hand gripped the edge of the bed like it was a life raft tethered to a sinking ship.
The phone fell onto the carpeted floor. The timer logging the call still ticked away steadily.
Her eyes were glazed over, unseeing as she stared into nothingness.
I knelt beside her, listening to the way her breath was coming in a choppy, staccato rhythm. She was in shock.
My hand on her back must have been the touch that brought her back to the present. All at once, she shattered in curdling cries, reaching for me as she collapsed into my chest.
“Baby, what happened?” I asked softly as I held her tightly.
She gasped for air, her sobs punctuated by hiccups. “H-h-he’s d-dead.”
“Who?”
“Shep.” The name alone was painful for her to say. She gasped for air as tears soaked into my t-shirt.
Holy shit.She had just told me about him the other day. They texted all the time. She had just been on the phone with him while we walked to the laundromat. Shep was her idol. I could see it in the way she spoke about him and to him.
My fingers sunk into her soft, rosy hair, cradling her head to my chest. Willow’s fingers tightened, grappling to keep hold of me. But I wasn’t going anywhere.
I settled on the floor, sitting up against the foot of the bed with Willow between my knees. I handed her the phone and held her close as she talked to Lisa in barely coherent sentences. After a few minutes, she hung up and buried herself in me.
I said nothing while she cried.
Sometimes there are no words that should be said. There is no reasoning that can explain away the hurt or heartbreak. Sometimes life just sucks. It’s uncomfortable to sit with someone in the midst of their pain. It’s awkward.
But so is grief.
It rips out our identities. In an instant, who you were is not who you are. And who you were is a person you will never be again.
Grief changes us at an elemental level. There is no return to normal. It’s a tattoo the bereft must bear whether they want to or not. Sure, it can be covered. It can be masked. It will age and morph with each passing day, fading into somethingunrecognizable at times. But it never goes away. When you strip away the tapestries, it’s scrawled across the walls.
I had liked Willow before her grief. Now, I would get to fall in love with someone new. It would be an honor to meet her, just like it was an honor to hold her through the transformation.
“I have to go,” Willow stammered as shock melted into mania. She grabbed her phone and ended the call without a goodbye. “I—I have to finish packing and get gas and?—”
“Slow down. Breathe,” I said as I helped her to her feet, then gently pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
Tears welled in her eyes again as devastation set in. “He . . . He was driving his rig. It was raining really hard. Someone stopped short and”—she clapped her hand over her mouth as gut-wrenching cries peeled free—“he couldn’t stop. He tried to change lanes and turned too hard, and the load was too heavy, and it flipped the semi off the shoulder and rolled it down an embankment. Lisa—his wife”—Willow hiccupped—“got the call.”
I stayed on my knees, putting us eye to eye, and pulled her into my chest. My mouth grazed her temple. “I’m so sorry, Wills. So fucking sorry. Tell me what you need done right now. Tell me how to help you.”
But instead of leaning on me a second longer, she pushed away. “I have to get home. I need to be with my family. I have to go. Now.”
I glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly dinnertime. I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I had an inkling it wasn’t anywhere near New York City. “Okay. Traffic’s gonna be backed up for a few hours. We can pack, get some dinner, rest a little, and leave around midnight. It’ll give us the easiest drive.”
“I don’t have hours,” she snapped, masking her fear with anger. “I need to gonow.It’s a long drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“Weare not going anywhere.Iam going.”
“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you shouldn’t be driving right now, Willow.”
“I don’t care what you think!” she shouted as tears rolled down her cheeks. “This isn’t a game anymore!”
It was never a game. Not for me, anyway. But now wasn’t the time to mention that.
