I get into my car and follow the ambulance to the hospital, flying through traffic at the same high speed until we pull into the parking lot in front of the emergency room. Would they still be speeding if he was dead?
17
One year later
If a woman can stayby my side, understanding some questions may never be answered; she’s my soulmate, the one that’s supposed to be by my side forever. For months, I thought she was playing a mean game of hard to get, but it wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about breaking down barriers. It was about creating a level of trust before leaning on one another, and it was something new for both of us because neither of us was accustomed to feeling that kind of support.—We’ve learned that one thing doesn’t work, there’s always another way. We take things slow and steady, respecting each other’s boundaries; two individuals with different lifestyles. Patience, though, is something neither of us has mastered. We aren’t planners. We like to jump, so it’s taken a lot of willpower to keep on track while creating a new set of walls to shelter ourselves.
Lately, though, there’s been a change in our regular pattern. There’s been something more—a new level of comfort, knowing there is dependability without pressure.
Dependability means coming home to my house with the lights turned on, after returning from dropping Hannah off at Kristy’s. Sometimes she comes with me for the ride, but she had a photography gig too late in the day today to join me, and without a need to solidify plans, I know she will be making us chicken parmesan in my kitchen. It’s our thing, and I love having a thing with her. I love having lots of things with her. I love her, and I don’t know how it happened or when, but sometimes I think I’ve always loved her—even during the years we didn’t see each other or speak. We just had to find our way back to each other.
The number of times I’ve heard someone spouting off about “when you know, you know,” and here I was thinking there would be some neon sign pointing to the woman I’m supposed to be with. Clearly, I was mistaken when I thought I saw the signs with Kristy, but Hannah came from that mistake, so even though I hate that woman with a burning passion, I’m grateful for what came out of the marriage. I wouldn’t change a thing.
There are no neon signs with Journey, just a void in my chest when I leave her side. When we’re not together, she’s all I can think about. She’s my best friend, and I haven’t had one of those since Pete. I refused to devote myself entirely to anyone for a long time. It was a way of protecting myself from pain, but I’ve unraveled each layer of myself, one at a time, with Journey. There are no blinking lights with arrows. I just know she’s my one.
Journey has her phone on speaker as she’s stirring a boiling pot of pasta. I hear Melody on the other end. “I know, I know. The flowers are all set now, so at least that's something I can cross off my list,” Melody says.
“What about the caterer? You were supposed to confirm with them this morning?” Journey responds.
“I forgot,” Melody huffs.
“I took care of it,” Journey follows.
There’s a moment of silence between the two girls. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Journey. I honestly thought you’d be the worst maid-of-honor, but it turns out, I was so wrong.”
“I love you too, sis,” Journey says.
I don’t think Journey heard me walk into the house. She more than likely would have taken Melody off of speaker if she had. Journey has a pet peeve of people being on speaker when anyone else is in the room. I watch from behind as she’s ending the call with Melody, noticing a twitch in her left ring finger. I catch her glancing at the empty spot, wondering what’s going through her mind. Journey doesn’t say things like … “Let’s get married.” “Where are ‘we’ going as a couple?” “What’s in the future for us?” She is more of the type to wake up every morning and continue with her life as she did the day before. I can’t say I blame her. I’m the same way. Certain things that are important to others aren’t at the top of my list of priorities, but certain things should be—commitment, devotion, a promise, things I want to give to Journey in more ways than just assuming we’ll always be together.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Brody should be home soon, and I need to talk to him about—that thing.”
Uh. Okay. She definitely doesn’t know I’m standing behind her.
“Good luck!” Melody coos. “Love you, byeeee!”
“Love you too, bye.”
“Soooo,” I lament. “What do you need to talk to me about?” Journey tosses the wooden spoon she’s holding into the air and squawks.
“Holy crap. You scared me,” she says, clutching her chest.
“I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Melody talks really loud, and I can understand why you didn’t hear me over her voice.”
“This wedding might kill one of us, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be her,” she says.
“Well, in all fairness, you knew it was coming when she asked you to be her maid-of-honor.”
“It’s not like I could say no. She’s my sister. It’s my duty.”
“I’m not blaming you. You’ve done an amazing job, and someday she’ll repay you the favor.” I might not have intended to say the last part of that sentence since we don’t discuss the future.
“Repay me?” Journey asks, tilting her head to the side.
“What did you need to talk to me about?” I change the subject for several reasons, but mostly because Journey doesn’t usually plan out what she needs to talk about. She says what she’s thinking when she’s feeling it, which can be a lot sometimes. It’s totally spontaneous, but I love that about her.
“Um,” she says, retrieving the spoon from the floor. She walks over to the sink to clean it before returning to the boiling pot of water. “Just stuff.”
“Like … we need to talk … kind of stuff, or there’s something on your mind … kind of stuff?” I hate the nervous pit in my stomach.
