Her sniffles pierce my heart.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“Goodbye, Ember.” Two tears blaze trails down my cheeks.
“Goodbye, Noah.”
She hangs up first, and I follow. My chin droops to my chest. My heart falls somewhere, maybe down to my feet. It may even be gone from my body.So this is what it feels like to really sacrifice.Ember said sacrifice feels good, but that’s not true, because my chest is splintering and it feels a hell of a lot like agony.
Every ounce of me wants to call her back. Or better yet, go to her house and barge in, grab Matt by his ears and toss him out.
I hate this.
“Noah?” my mom calls.
Taking a deep breath, I push off the wall and rejoin my parents and Miranda. I fake my smile, I fake my laughter, I fake my jokes.
The pain in my heart?
Genuine.
32
Ember
When I waseighteen I remember waking up with this feeling in my chest. Hollow but somehow heavy. Pain is only painful until you get used to the feeling. Then it becomes your normal, until one day its absence is what you take notice of.
This morning, it’s the return of the pain that is excruciating. I hoped to never feel like that again, but here I am, rolling over and clutching my sheet in a fist. I’m older now, but hardly any wiser.
Noah leaves today. I roll from bed, walk to the bathroom, and load toothpaste onto my toothbrush.
Noah leaves today.I stare into the bathroom mirror, my hands going through the motions, the scrubbing sounds secondary to the noise in my head.
Noah leaves today.Back to the bedroom, where I get dressed mechanically.
Today, it feels final. More final than college, more final than when he went to play professionally. We’re real adults now. Our decisions carry more weight.
That’s what I was thinking yesterday when I told Matt I can’t marry him. It wasn’t just about Noah. I had to make that choice for me.
“Ember?” Sky pokes her head in my door. She’s already dressed. Her voice is high-pitched, and her smile is so large it takes over her face. “Mom’s doctor just called. She woke up during the night.”
My hands freeze in my jewelry tray, my fingers on the metal cuff I was reaching for. Relief, joy, apprehension, and more joy fill me. Hot tears warm my eyes.
“Let’s go,” I say, slipping on the bracelet and jamming my feet into shoes.
Sky drives while I stare out the window and wonder if the plane I see up above is Noah’s. It’s heading north, and I know that’s the wrong direction, but still. I pretend.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Sky asks.
I sigh and look at her. She glances at me and then back to the road.
“Not really. I don’t want to hear what you have to say right now.” My tone is even, but I think I hurt her feelings anyway. I didn’t mean to, but I can’t listen to her tell me that Noah isn’t worth this heartache. Because he is. He’s worth all the minutes I’ve spent on him. There is no waste when it comes to Noah.
Sky doesn’t say anything more, but on our way into the hospital she catches my hand and squeezes it.
I expected my mom to bemy mom, but she’s not. She’s more like an awake infant. Her eyes are open, alert, but her arms randomly lift and flail, and she’s not talking. Her lips move, but I can’t tell if that’s because she is trying to speak or if it’s just twinges.
“Mom,” I whisper, pulling a chair closer to her bed. My mom watches me, her cheeks lifting as she tries to smile. I sink down into the chair and Sky stands behind me, her hands on my shoulders. “We’ve been so scared for you, Mom—”
