Page 85 of All of Him
As the days of our trip dwindled, the new dynamic we’d formed became increasingly natural. But with every kiss, with every perfect morning, the darkness of being in Dublin lingered heavier. I thought, at first, that it was guilt for not sharing everything with her. It constantly loomed in the back of my mind, though I’d already decided I would tell her everything when we were back home. I wanted her to have a place to escape to if my confession was too much.
After a lot of thought, lying in the hotel bed and staring out the window at the city lights, I’d realized there was something else I needed to finish. It wouldn’t be easy, but the strength Amanda had given me ignited a fire—a fire that had to be put out.
I needed to get through that intersection. The one from the night of the accident.
“There’s something I need to do,” I started, pulling over and putting my flashers on while we were out for a drive on our last day of the trip. “I’ve thought a lot about it, and I think I have to do it to really leave this place behind, to clear out all the cobwebs.” I rubbed the scar on my palm, feeling the slight pain it always radiated to my wrist. The pain distracted me from my emotions, almost like a Xanax, only masochistic.
Amanda, who hadn’t stopped smiling since we’d kissed days before, looked at me sincerely.
“What’s that?”
I looked forward at the busy street, people going about their day as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I had planned on making my decision when I got to the intersection we were at, and my heart was telling me that I might be able to handle it.
“Can you drive for three blocks and then pull over?” I asked, nodding to the right-sided steering wheel.
Amanda seemed confused, then looked to the street where I had, realizing what I was doing. I’d pointed the street out to her days before.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked skeptically.
“Want to? No. Need to? Yes.” I could already feel my heart fluttering, and it had to be done before I chickened out.
Amanda noticed the way I was rubbing my palm and then eyed up the steering wheel.
“Three blocks?” she asked cautiously.
I nodded.
“And you’re sure?”
“Yes. Just pull over after you pass Hawkins. You can do it. If I start to panic, don’t stop. Just keep your eyes on the road until you pass that cross street.” I swallowed hard. “That’s where the accident happened.”
Even saying the cross street where we had been heading the night I lost Garrett kicked my heart rate up a notch. I hadn’t been down George’s Quay since then, but I would make it to Hawkins this time. Garrett never would.
Amanda and I switched quickly, and she adjusted everything necessary for her three-block drive. I trusted her driving more than I trusted my own reaction; I just hoped she’d follow through and let me be until she stopped.
“You have your meds, right?” Amanda asked, putting the car into gear.
“Already took them,” I choked out, feeling a familiar and instant shift in my mood.
I should have known right there that it was too much. I should have seen the signs and stopped it all. I felt the worst panic attack of my life coming on, and I’d already taken a double dose of my medication. I was fucking asking for it, but I still felt the need to get it over with.
Those three blocks were going to make or break me—but I had to try and silence it all for good.
Amanda pulled out of the parking spot and drove with the flow of traffic toward our destination. I held the handle above the door tightly, the scar on my arm seeming to burn from the inside out. I rolled the window down slightly, just to see how far I could push myself, though not enough for my arm to get trapped out the window again.
As we started through the intersection that had taken Garrett’s life, I held my breath. Big mistake. Tears poured down my cheeks heavily, and I felt as if someone were squeezing my chest with all the power they had in them. Amanda said something, but I didn’t hear her.
I could only hear the sounds from the night of the accident.
Metal on metal, Garrett hitting the pavement, my own screams.
The deafening silence.
Then sirens—much too late.
47
Amanda
