Page 74 of The Time It Takes
I see his eyes bulge just before I close mine and lean my head against the wall, slamming it back a few times. The one person I need right now is dead and not in all the years I’ve been gone have I felt as alone as I do right now. I hold her close to me as sobs rack my entire body until I feel her body go limp in my arms.
Realization slowly seeps into me as I glance at the pack of candles laying on the floor next to me—birthday candles. Today is Benji’s birthday. I forgot and she remembered. He would have been thirty-two years old today.
3.4 seconds.
3.4 seconds is the time it takes for a heart to break.
3.4 seconds of truth is all it takes and then comes an infinity of pain that doesn’t know how to stop.
I forgot.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
My foot bounces, and I try to focus on the sound of my shoelaces tapping the floor. I hate how hospitals smell both clean and like death. It’s as if they over-sanitize to cover the scent of decaying skin and bones. I nearly gag at the thought.
I look down at the blood staining my skin. My mother’s blood. Some of it might be mine. I’m too numb to focus on it. The doctors took my mother away immediately. They quickly looked me over, but I told them I was fine. Of course, they checked me out anyway, but I was released about thirty minutes ago.
It feels as if every minute of sleep I got, there was an hour that I lost. Frank is sitting in the room with my mother waiting for an update from the doctor. I couldn’t stand to be in the room at the memory of her screaming at me, telling me how much she hates me. I can’t stand another second of any of this. I can’t help but wonder how the hell I’m going to afford the cost of the ambulance. It should be the last thing I think about, but it’s not.
“Will.” I hear someone call my name, but I can’t move my eyes to locate them.
Someone gently crouches down in front of me and a scent I’m more than familiar with overwhelms my senses. For a moment I think my mind is playing tricks on me, but then a warm hand comes down softly on my knee.
“Willow,” Oliver says, his voice soothing.
I’m staring down at his hand and I’m shaking my head when I say, “I can’t do this again.” I look up at him then, my tears falling freely down my face. “She blames me, Ollie. She blames me for all of it.”
His eyebrows knit together and anger flashes across his face. I drop my head again, but he grabs my chin and pulls my gaze back to him.
“No.” His voice comes out deep and demanding. “No. Do you hear me?”
I shake my head because I’m not thinking of anything other than how different that night could have been if I hadn’t been so stupid.
You still would have lost him.
“I’m so stupid, I never should have gone to find him.” My words only seem to confuse him, but he knows I won’t answer any of his questions right now.
“That sort of guilt is going to kill you. God, Willow. I can’t stand to see you like this. It hurts me. It physically pains me that I can’t do anything to take it all away. What happened to Ben that night has no business being on your shoulders.”
“Stop it,” I whisper. I reach up to grab his forearm and squeeze. His hand falls to my shoulder and I wince at the soreness there. A haunted expression takes over his features and he tenses at my reaction to his touch. The muscle in his jaw hardens and when he goes to study my eyes, I close them.
“Did she—”
All my crying finally catches up to me and my head starts to pound. I still can’t look at him, so I try to push his hand away from me.
“Jesus, Willow. That’s not okay.” His voice rises.
I don’t know why, but those words break me. It feels like a confirmation I didn’t want but needed. He’s right. None of this is okay—none of it.
“I know,” I say pathetically. I’m on the verge of crying again and it just pisses me off. I’m so sick of crying so damn much. Oliver pries my hand off him and loops his pinky around mine.
“Talk to me,” he requests softly.
Another tear slips out at the memory of us on the beach with smiles on our faces and our only worry is finding the biggest wave. “I’m tired, Ollie. I’m so fucking tired.”
His face changes and for once I’m not repulsed by someone’s worry over me. “What can I do?”
I shake my head, tightening my pinky around his. “I don’t know,” I whisper hoarsely. Somehow, he seems to understand me perfectly, because he takes the seat next to me, not letting me go. He lets me rest my head on his shoulder.
