There are so many things I haven’t got the chance to say. So many things we never got to do. I want to hold him for longer—kiss him harder—fuck him deeper. I want to sit him down and tell him in chronological order every single time I’ve seen him and not been able to breathe.
You never know how badly you want something until you’re told you can’t have it. You never realize how many moments you’ve wasted until there aren’t any left.
It’s later that evening, around the 24-hour mark, that I get a call from Josh and we get our first break.
“Aaron! Man—I don’t know how true it is but a buddy of mine said they saw Bear on Pinewood just a bit ago.” My heart fucking leaps.
He’s alive!
“Pinewood Ave? Why would he be there?” I’m turning my truck around—speeding across town to where that edge of the town is.
“Well… I think…”
“Spit it out.” I don’t have time for the games.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a bridge not too far past Pinewood—just outside of town. There’s a river under it—but it’s high enough to…” I hang up the phone.
“FUCK!” I slam my fists into the steering wheel repeatedly. I’m ten minutes from Pinewood—and if the bridge is past it then maybe fifteen—twenty—from Benjamin.
As I’m speeding down the back roads of our little college town, I realize something fucking horrifying. Something that makes bile rise in my throat.
Veronica’s ashes… they were not on the living room mantle when I ran out yesterday.
Chapter Thirty Six
November 2022
Benjamin
There is a slight hint of autumn in the breeze that dances around me. In Arizona, November doesn’t really get cold. The fake grass never dies, and the pools mostly stay uncovered. I never really minded it much before—but now it’s a little disappointing. I’ll never experience all the seasons. Not really.
My sneakers make a squeaking noise as I shuffle slightly on the railing. I’ve been up here long enough to gain my balance, so my arms are relaxed at my sides. I take a deep—full breath. Everything is quiet. Calm.
There was this panic in my brain that was only going to be quelled by the promise of release. Honestly—it’s not too bad. I had a good year before my end. Seeing my friends—Felix asking me to be a best man at his wedding, having goals for my future—loving Aaron.
God—I hope Felix comes out of this okay. I hope Kayla can get him through it, I hope he heals just fine. And Aaron… he’ll move on. He has to. I left my note—he knows it isn’t his fault. That I love him. He shouldn’t hold that guilt.
I really thought that loving him—that our life together was enough to deter my desire to die. And it was—for a while. And then Cameron happened again and it wasn’t. Not anymore. I could hear him throwing up in the bathroom throughout the night—I could see the way I was wearing him down. Waking him up at 3 A.M. screaming—not speaking to him for weeks, barely looking at him. I can’t. I can’t bear it. Not only am I terrified of ruining his life further, but I can’t speak to him—can’t look at him without feeling like I’m killing him.
So, after trying for so long, I have decided I won’t put him through it any longer. I think getting over my death will be easier than a lifetime of dealing with my trauma.
My little blue bird can fly away. He can take his pieces of me and spread those wings—achieving his dreams and falling in love anew.
I… I have to leave. I have to leave this life. And if there’s another—if I’m reborn to another world—I’ll find him there too. I’ll be normal. Boy—girl—doesn’t matter. I’ll benormaland I’ll find him and love him. Oh Aaron—it doesn’t matter what you look like—where you are, what you’re called—I will find you again. I am destined to find you in every single life I live, in every moment I suffer and every moment I believe I might not anymore. I am meant for you everywhere—every time.
It’s just that this time… it’s been cut a bit short. But it was nice—the time we had. Even the years of back and forth are so precious to me. I will never regret a moment in which he touched me—a moment where my eyes landed on him. We both knew, in some way or another, from the moment we met, that this was it—this is where we were supposed to be.
When I fell from my bike at nine years old and scraped my knee raw Aaron came running—he held my tear-soaked face and told me—
“It’s okay, Benjamin. I’ll fix it. You’re okay.”
We both knew in one way or another. Aaron has always been fixing me. From the very beginning he has been putting me back together again and again. I cannot make him do it until death. My sweet, sweet Aaron. My darling God.
I can feel the hot tears slide down my cheeks but I’m smiling. Everything is so peaceful. The water rushing below is calming to hear—the setting sun is picture-perfect. There is no better day to die. No better time. Mom’s ashes sit on the railing next to me.
When he’s kneeling over my grave—will Aaron scream at me? Will he hate me? Or will he tell me he loves me? I guess that has nothing to do with me in the end. I will be dead.
“Comehome, baby.” I can hear Mom whisper to me.
