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Illuminated by the soft, muted glow of the cabin lights, I sink deeper into the plush leather seat.I follow the standard procedures of securing myself.The motions are robotic.Each click of the seat belt feels like a jarring question.Am I making a big mistake?Each breath I draw is heavy with trepidation, filling my lungs with an aching tension.
When we’re at a high enough altitude, I hear San’s voice say, “You can access the Wi-Fi if you need to reach out to your sponsor or your parents.”
Lang approaches me and hands me a phone.“This works inside the airplane,” he assures, before disappearing into the small office to work with San.
What do I want to do?I think while staring at the phone.The options are to call Zeke or my therapist.Do I work on the urge to reach for something to numb me?Or should I dial my therapist’s number and confront the reality of my emotions head-on?
“Dr.Prescott speaking,” a steady, grounded voice rumbles from the other side.
I clear my throat, trying to form a few words.Once I’m ready, I say, “This is Greyson.Greyson Decker.”
“What can I do for you?”
“She’s dead,” I begin, my voice is barely above a whisper.My fingers trace over the black leather of the seat, the sensation a temporary distraction from the tremors racing through my veins.
“I need you to be more specific,” Dr.Prescott says with a warm, reassuring voice.
After filling my lungs with enough air and courage, I tell him what’s happened within the past couple of days.“And the thing is I don’t know if I can handle more,” I say when I’m done with the story.“But I still want to ask for her last words.I want to know ...”
Did she leave a note for us?Did she ever forgive me?I just wanted a goodbye.
I close my eyes, trying to determine what I want from this conversation.My heart pounds against my rib cage, the sound echoing in my ears, each thump mirroring my escalating fear.
“Do I even want to see this person?”I ponder.
“And that’s perfectly okay,” Dr.Prescott reassures, his voice steady.“It’s okay to be uncertain, Greyson.If you arrive at your destination and decide it’s not for you, just turn around and walk away.”
“Where do I go from there?”I ask.“She was my spark—my North star.Most days, I keep fighting because of her.But she’s ...”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts because I can’t say it just yet.I don’t want to admit it out loud, at least not yet.“She chose to stop,” I say.
“Is this why you want to meet them?To find answers in the written words?”
I repeat what I said earlier.“Perhaps seeing her last words could offer some sort of closure.”
He clears his throat.“It sounds like the diary belonged to her sister.What if there weren’t any last words?You need to consider all the possibilities.”
I glance toward the jet’s door and imagine for a moment what would happen if I opened it and leapt into the void.Will I finally breathe like I used to?
“Greyson, stay with me.What are you thinking?”Dr.Prescott’s voice ropes me back into the now and away from what could be the best solution.
“The end,” I mumble, my voice barely audible.
“Of the biography?”His voice is soft and soothing.
I take another breath before clarifying.“No.Of me.I don’t see the point in trying anymore.”As my confession spills into the sterile air of the cabin, my gaze sweeps toward San.He sits at a safe distance.He can’t hear my conversation.Yet, he’s watching me closely.
When he turns to look at me, our eyes connect.There’s something in them that reminds me of our old relationship and the love we once shared.San immediately rushes to me and pulls me into his embrace.
“I’m here,” San murmurs into my hair, his words assuring, even loving.“Hold onto me.Together we can find a way to live instead of just existing.We’ll find something that will make us feel alive again.And if you’re ever ready ...”
But I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to live again.The burden seems monumental.It’s so fucking hard to live for myself.
Did I make a mistake by agreeing to go with San and meet this person?San’s forehead leans against mine, his gaze boring into mine with a depth that chills me to my core.He’s trying to speak to my soul.“Do you want me to stay with you?”
I shake my head, gesturing to the phone still clutched within my grip.“No, but thank you for the offer.My therapist might help me devise several ways to cope with this.”
His soft kiss brushes against my lips, a fleeting touch that leaves behind an echo.“If you need me ...”he murmurs before walking away.
