Chaos and Control(73)
A split second of
Profound bravery
Has me walking
A tightrope
Over pools of
Virus and disease
No net below
A crowded room Yet all I see
Is the curve of
Where her neck
Meets her shoulder
I close my eyes
And recall
Exactly how that
Patch of skin smells Just when I feel Like I’m drowning
She looks at me
Lips curl up
Toward her eyes
For one thousand one One thousand two seconds Then, she is gone
- Preston
Chapter Twenty-Two
Absolution
Friday, I spend the entire day with Bennie in the store. Though my mind often drifts to Dylan and what he has planned, I keep my focus on my sister. We take turns picking out albums to play until I have to leave for work. Preston doesn’t look my way or attempt to talk to me. While I tell myself it’s for the best, I can’t deny the nagging feeling that wants to reconnect with him and regret for the hurtful things I said. I miss the secret smiles he used to give and the way he’d find any excuse to touch me. I miss his quirks, his notebook with the pencil tucked inside. I miss diner lunches over a grid pattern of plates. I feel my anger toward Preston withering away, but my stubbornness holds on for now.
My night at The Haystack goes great until some out-of-towners start a fight with a local. It turns into a full brawl until the sheriff and Sawyer show up and shut us down.
When everything is done, Sawyer offers me a ride home. I accept when I see that Preston is not waiting outside for my walk home. I’m not sure if it’s because we closed early or because of my hateful words to him the night before. There’s no conversation between Sawyer and me on the short ride to Bennie’s. I gaze out of the cruiser’s window and ask for forgiveness. I beg for forgiveness for leaving the only family I have and setting off on a selfish adventure, forgiveness for being so blind that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, forgiveness for such hurtful words to a man who—despite his lie—has been kind and protective.
I crawl into bed unhappy with who I am and the decisions I’ve made. Thoughts of “what if” race through my head. Scenarios of my past adventures play out a million different ways. As I drift off to sleep, I press my hand to the wall separating us and ask for Preston’s forgiveness, and the capacity to forgive him, too.
Saturday is more of the same. I hang with Bennie at the store, where she whispers about Preston spending lots of time in his workshop and how he never smiles anymore. Guilt eats away at my anger, but I refocus our conversations. Sometimes Bennie will wince in pain, and I dote over her like a nurse. She always gives me a frown and points out that is why she never told me about her sickness in the first place.
I work my shift at The Haystack and walk home alone. I debate calling Bennie for a ride, but it feels silly to be so afraid. But as I cut through the park again, Dylan creeps into my mind. Every little noise in this quiet town makes me jump. Every street is too dark, every corner a hiding place.
After a shower, I lay in bed and flip through a few photo albums from my closet. I grin at the old Bennie and me, two carefree girls taking their time for granted. Photo after photo of our time together pulls on the last thread holding me together. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and run toward my pillow. They soak into my hairline at my temples and cool my aching head.
As I wipe my eyes, a hard beat comes through my wall from Preston’s apartment. Then the song kicks in, and I close my eyes as Muse reminds me that our “Time is Running Out.”
…
Sunday morning greets me with a bright window and indentations on my face from the photo album that became my pillow. Bennie makes us oatmeal with chocolate chips and walnuts in it.
“This is so good. Tastes like cookies,” I say with my mouth full.
She chuckles. “Remember when you wouldn’t even try oatmeal? I had to trick you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that. Otherwise, I’d be missing out.”
We finish breakfast and decide to go back to the lake, since it has become our new Sunday tradition. Bennie asks if I want to invite Preston, but I say no. I want to forgive him. I want to stop holding all this anger in my heart for him. But every time I remember that my time with Bennie is limited and he knew that, it firms my resolve. He should have told me.
We have a great day out at the lake, but leave early when Bennie says she feels bad. Though I’m happy that she doesn’t have to hide this misery from me anymore, I absolutely hate seeing it. On the drive home, I ponder my life without Bennie. Even when I was traveling alone, I knew that Bennie still existed here. I wonder what will be left of me when she is gone or how I’ll survive without her. The thought fills me with anger and bitterness, so I leave that behind and focus on the here and now.
“We should get matching tattoos,” I say.
Bennie doesn’t say a word. She simply smiles from behind her oversize sunglasses.
“Something small, just for us.”
“Like what?” she finally asks.
“I don’t know, hearts?” Bennie squishes up her face. “Okay, no hearts. What if I sign my name on you and you sign your name on me. Then we get them to tattoo it on.”
Bennie gives me a smile and nods. “I like that.”