As awful as it is, I don’t think my brother crossed my mind for a single moment since Elena walked through those doors tonight.
While I’m happy to raise money for good causes, and appreciate the help that our family and friends put into the event, nothing is ever going to bring him back.
No amount of charity, no amount of guilt, none of our mutual self-loathing.
So… “No, I don’t feel guilty,” I admit. “Maybe that makes me terrible.”
“I don’t either, and I can’t decide if it makes us terrible or not.” She chews on her lip, resting her head back on the window. Each pass of the truck under a streetlight casts her face in a soft, golden hue, revealing the tragic beauty of her tormentedexpression. “I once heard that the human brain stays active for up to seven minutes after death, and it’s believed that in that time, the person who died replays their life. Like a highlight reel.”
I swallow, turning back to the road. “I don’t know if I believe that.”
“If it were true, what do you think he saw?” Her voice turns hollow, and she shifts in her seat, turning to face me, but I don’t have the strength to do the same. I don’t know what has compelled her to talk of him tonight. I don’t know why it seems like neither of us can say his name.
“Only good things,” I whisper.
She’s quiet for a long moment before she murmurs, “Sometimes, I can’t remember if there were good things.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, matching the sensation swelling in my throat. “There was. He was a happy person.” Suppressed emotion builds in the pit of my stomach, forcing itself to the surface, but somehow, I don’t want to stop this conversation from continuing. “And because of you…he knew what love was.”
I finally allow myself a brief glance at Elena, needing to know her reaction. She’s already staring at me, her eyes misted with unshed tears, bottom lip trembling.
“You showed him what that looked like,” I continue softly. “Regardless of everything else, it couldn’t be doubted that you did love him, you know? And being loved by you, Elena…” I exhale deeply. “There’s nothing like that. That love is the highlight reel, always worth the pain.”
I face the road again, but I hear the gulp of air she takes as she attempts to stop herself from sobbing. I hear the rattled breath falling from her lips, and the heave of her chest. I don’t know exactly what her last conversation with my brother was like, but I know it didn't end well. He’d said things to her that heknew he’d regret later, and for the first time, I realize she may not be aware of that fact.
He knew he’d regret them. He knew he’d forgive us. He just hadn’t been ready yet.
Determined to compose myself long enough to get us home, I blink back the tears that want to free fall from my eyes too. Elena attempts to cry quietly, but late in the night, in the quiet cab and the near-empty freeway, it’s impossible to focus on anything else.
I reach across the seat, clasping a hand over her thigh, unsure of how to comfort her any other way. I brush the fabric of her dress out of my way so I can caress her bare skin, moving my thumb in gentle circles.
“He told me that, you know. He told me he’d forgive us eventually. That he knew we made more sense than the two of you ever did.” She places her hand over mine, her breath calming. “He was mad, he felt betrayed, but even in that moment, he had every intention of making things okay again.”
“You never told me this,” she whispers, the words broken.
I turn to her, tracking the tears that stream from her glistening eyes, wishing more than anything I could wipe them away. Longing to finally provide the comfort she never allowed me to years ago. “You never gave me the chance.”
Her eyes fall closed, head tipping against the back of the seat. She doesn’t say anything else, but her hand stays atop mine.
“Did you ever fall in love again?” she asks, startling me after a long bout of silence.
“No,” I say. “I think I was destined to love the same person all my life.”
She lets out a bereft laugh. “She must’ve been a real bitch to let you go.”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I think she had her reasons…” I squeeze her thigh. “I just wish she’d told me what they were.”
“Sometimes, I wish she had too.” She curls her fingers around mine, squeezing back. “You were never the villain in her story. You’re always her highlight reel.”
My head whips to her, and the lights outside flash over her face, revealing glimpses of red-rimmed eyes and swollen lips. Removing her hand from mine, she settles into her seat, and I finally watch her eyes flutter closed.
Her breath slowly grows heavier, and I wonder if maybe she had fallen asleep earlier. I wonder what thoughts might have been floating through her psyche that woke her, compelled her to ask me if I’ve been in love since her. I wonder why she’d even entertain it, when it’s always been clear that I was created with her soul in mind.
Wherever our beings began, ours were beside each other; that much I’m certain of.
Something scattered them to the wind, forced them to find each other over and over in each life lived, and maybe in other lifetimes we got it right. In different realities, it’s always been us.
But this one became twisted and tortured—it tore us apart.
