They’ve moved on.
I’m…
Part of me is still on thatisland, my arm draped around Susa and trying to convince her she’s not dying, even as I wish I could.
Part of me will forever remain strapped in that airplane seat, terrified and screaming, my left hand holding the oxygen mask pressed tight against my face because my right hand is holding Ellen’s as it goes cold in mine.
Case cups my cheek and closes her eyes as she tips my head forward, ourforeheads touching. “I love you, George. I can’t lose you. The kids love you and need you. Your brothers love you and need you.”
I know she means it as friends, so I don’t read anything into it. “I love you, too, Case.”
She kisses the tip of my nose before stepping back and heading for the office door. “I’ll say good-night to everyone. I’ll keep my phone on. Text me if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
She gently closes the door behind her and I hear her ascend the steps.
I know I need to go up there and say my own good-nights, because I don’t want to doze off on the sofa and awaken to a nightmare with all them as witnesses.
I also don’t want them to see me cry.
Deep inside me, something is slowly tightening, pulling me apart from the inside out, binding me in bad, dark ways.
I don’t wantto cry anymore.
I want to lash out, put my fist through a wall, start a fight and beat the shit out of someone while getting the shit beat out of me.
The public at large tends to frown upon that kind of thing, however.
Especially when it’s the seated governor of Tennessee.
After a few deep breaths, I put my glasses back on and head upstairs.
