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She gives a resigned nod as I hurry out into the hot afternoon.
Ben
This morning, I got up feeling better than I had in a long time. I had spent the weekend alone with a woman who has been like a soothing balm on all my inner wounds. For once, I’ve actually been able to feel my heart beating and my blood pumping through my veins. I woke up, eager and ready to start the day; to see Kasey and coach Luna and her friends through some drills. Hell, I was even feeling motivated to look for an apartment and think about next steps to take when the camp is over.
After getting dressed and ready to go, I decide to send Kasey a text. I actually missed her last night when Luna came home and I had to come back here and sleep alone. I pick up my phone and unlock the screen… and see the date.
And then it all came back to me in flashes.
A headline here:Local beloved teacher dies in car crash on July 20th.The print had Jamie’s staff photo from the school next to it.
A memory of the date printed on the ER board there.
Jamie’s hand lying by her lifeless body on the gurney, the rest of her almost unrecognizable, covered in blood and medical equipment.
Another flash shows me my own fist connecting with Dan’s face when he came up to me after calling my wife’s time of death.
Each flash hits me like a gunshot to the chest bringing me to my knees. I feel bile rise up in my throat and I rush to the bathroom to empty my morning coffee into the toilet.
Get a grip,I tell myself as I flush the toilet.
But my memory betrays my willpower by reminding me of that last moment, the one where everyone had cleared out of the room, and I dared to go over to Jamie’s body in ER 3, needing to see if it was real; that this had actually happened. I picked up her hand and found no pulse in her wrist, but I got drawn in by the ticking second hand on her watch; like it was one part of her making her still seem alive. Only it was time moving on without her.
Another shot, another blast. I’ve been ambushed. I’m sweating and my heart is pounding in my ears.
I move to the sink and turn on the cold water, leaning over to splash some in my face. Every blast of a memory, I try to fight it with a cold splash, until I’m gasping for air. Without even drying my face I stumble to the living room in search of where I discarded the phone, and after a few minutes of flipping pillows on the couch I find it in plain view on the coffee table.
I grab the phone, doing my damnedest not to look at the date, and as quick as I can, tap off a message to the youth league manager. I turn my phone off so that I don’t have to see the date or deal with anyone. I can’t deal with anyone today.
I pull all the blinds closed and lie down on the couch with a pillow over my face, trying to shut out any trace of the world, and for the next few hours, I drift in and out of consciousness, going back and forth between one hell and another.
Kasey
I pull up to my brother’s house to find Ben’s new truck in the driveway, meaning he’s more than likely here. I climb the front steps and knock on the door, not wanting to barge in like the time I didn’t know he was here. I wait, hoping to hear footsteps or a voice, but moments tick by and I hear nothing; not even a stir. I knock again, louder this time and wait less time.
God, what if he’s unconscious on the floor or something?
I grow increasingly worried and anxious and finally decidefuck itand dig out my key.
I let myself in to find the house grimly dark and stuffy, save for the sliver of light coming from the door I just opened.
“Ben?” I call out softly and am met by eerie silence. “Shit,” I whisper to myself and take a few steps inside, leaving the door open so I can see while I twist the blinds of the big front picture window open.
“What?” I hear a low, demanding growl from the couch and I jump with a startled gasp catching in my throat. I finally see movement, and a body horizontal on the couch. An arm moves one of Melanie’s throw pillows off his face to reveal some ambiguous and wan version of Ben. His brown eyes look hollow and slightly sunken, and his usual tan complexion is pale.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim striding towards him. “Are you okay? What happened, are you sick?”
He lets out a sarcastic, humorless chuckle.
“Sick? Yeah, that’s one way of putting it, hence why I took a sick day. Am I not allowed?”
“Of course you’re allowed” I return, slightly irritated at his attitude when I was just trying to check on him. “I was just worried. Isthatallowed?”
He lets out a heavy sigh in response, a surliness to it.
“You don’t look good,” I say sincerely, trying to ignore the attitude in the hopes he’s having a stereotypical man cold. “What can I do?”
“You can leave me alone,” he says, dropping an arm over his eyes.
