You're to Blame(65)
“Am I a shitty person?” I ask, spooning a pile of chocolate shake up and dropping it back into the Styrofoam cup. “Honestly, am I?”
“You’re not a shitty person, Char, but you don’t need me to tell you that.” Rachel steals the cherry off the top of my shake and pops it into her mouth. “What you are is a lost person. Or at least, you were a lost person.”
“I got on the elevator, punched his floor number, and before I could make it there, I bailed. What am I going to say to him?” I push my glass to the center of the table and hunch down into the couch. “And then there’s Wes, who, for the first time, looked at me like I stole something from him.”
“Don’t worry about Wes. He’ll get over whatever transpires, but as far as where to start, the truth isn’t a horrible place.”
“Even if I did tell him the truth, what does that look like?”
“Do you actually care, Charlotte?” Rachel’s wide-eyed glare irritates the hell out of me. “No offense, but do you?” Dammit, why do best friends have to be so wise and reasonable?
“I never meant to hurt anyone.” This is the truth. I didn’t set out to hurt anyone, but it feels like everyone is on the verge of losing something.
“Who are you more worried about hurting? Duke or Jacob?” She licks the end of her spoon.
I pull out my phone to see no missed calls, no text messages. Why isn’t he answering? I tuck it back into my purse.
“Duke, because I didn’t see him coming. He’s like a tornado, and I’m the small town that had no time to prepare for destruction.” A heavy weight lifts from my shoulders. Damn, that feels good to admit.
“There’s a reason why, Charlotte. He makes you feel alive. It’s about damn time you listen to your heart, and stop allowing your head to control you. Tell the truth. Scream it from the damn rooftop if you have to, but fucking do it for yourself, and don’t worry about who you hurt in the process. In the end, everyone will benefit from your honesty.”
All the intense pressure from the past weeks comes barreling down on me, like a ton of rocks tumbling down the side of a mountain. Fatigue sets in, and I immediately want to crash.
I stand from the couch, set my milkshake on the coffee table, and head towards the hallway.
“I’m going to go lay down for a little while,” I explain my departure from what I’m sure Rachel expected to be a deep conversation. There’s no fuel in my tank, though, and my feet drag behind me like cement blocks.
“Charlotte,” Rachel calls out, and I turn back around. She smiles and nods. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m the one to blame for all of this?” I force a smile, and go to my room.
I’m the one to blame. It’s the single thought that leads me to sleep. As if my subconscious mind is fully aware of my current situation, I have one of those dreams that feels real enough my senses are on full alert.
I smell the distinct aroma of Duke’s cologne. The silky taste of the raspberry drizzle on my pancakes is like lightning on my tongue, reminding me of our morning at the diner. That’s where it all changed for me. Duke shifted from being an unlikely friend to so much more. A rhythmic laughter escapes his throat, and I want to reach out to him, but when I do, there’s nothing there. No warm body to grasp. It’s like he’s disappeared, but he’s still there in front of me.
I spring up in bed. My chest burns for a decent breath to ease the pain, and sweat spreads across my brow. Fear creeps into every pore of my body, and as if I’ve lost something, a giant hole forms in the middle of my heart. It’s him.
What if what I’ve lost is the one thing I need?
“Where is my damn phone?” I slide my hand across the mattress until the metal cools my fingertips. “There you are.” The screen comes alive to an alert for one missed text.
Sorry I missed your calls. Headed to the hospital. I’ll call you when I leave. The text is time stamped from twenty minutes ago.
“Fucccccckkkk! No, this can’t be happening,” I shout, throwing the comforter to the floor and storming into the living room. “He’s at the hospital.” I slip on my shoes and turn to my best friend who’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Duke is at the hospital.”
“Oh shit, and you haven’t been... You haven’t had a chance to explain...” Rachel stutters.
“Yeah, no shit. Hence why I’m freaking the fuck out.” I point to my chest, the keys trembling in my hand.
“Let me drive you.” Rachel shoots off the couch and takes the keys from my grip. “You’re seconds from losing it. The last thing we need is you driving.” She slides into her flats and ushers me out of our apartment. She opens my car door like I’m too unstable. Maybe I am. My head is swimming with possibilities, and none of them end how I’d prefer.
As if luck is on our side, the streets are nearly empty. I stare out the window, willing Rachel to push a little harder on the gas pedal.
“I had a dream about Duke. It felt like I lost him. He was right in front of me, and something happened, and his warmth vanished.” I don’t know if I’m speaking to Rachel, expecting an answer, or if I’m just blurting thoughts.
“It was just a dream, Charlotte.” Rachel stops at the emergency room entrance.