Lina sighs, her shoulders dropping, unsurprised. “She isn’t answering me, either.” Richard comes out of the kitchen with another tray of tiny sandwiches, and Lina intercepts him. “Honey, have you seen Alex?”
“Yeah, she said she needed some air about fifteen minutes ago.” He glances at us, his own worry growing. “Is she not back?”
“Did she take her bike?” I ask, starting to have an idea of where she may be. Richard shakes his head.
“Let me try calling again,” Lina says and starts to ring her.
I touch her arm, stopping her. “I think I know where she went.”
When Chloe and I get to my house, Alex is slouched in one of the swings on the old playground, barely moving and staring at nothingacross the yard. She looks so small. Like a child. Gone is my larger-than-life best friend. In her place is a shell of a woman who just lost her entire world. What I wouldn’t give to have her wake up from this nightmare.
I send Lina a quick text to let her know we found her, then gently drape my coat over Alex’s shoulders and sit on the swing next to her. Chloe shoves her hands in her pockets and leans against one of the support beams. The breeze is cold, the sun doing little to warm the chill in the air, and the only sound that fills the silence is the gentle rustling of barren branches and a few unbothered birds overhead.
I try to think of something to say, but no words come to me. At least, nothing I haven’t already said. Assurances that feel hollow even to me. Chloe must feel the same because when I glance at her, she’s staring at her feet and chewing her bottom lip.
Time passes slowly, measured only by our breathing. Even though the cold begins to seep in and I begin to lose feeling in my fingers, no one makes an effort to move. This moment is fragile, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. A single move will cause it to fall and shatter.
“I’ve never been without him,” Alex says, startling both me and Chloe despite how quietly it comes out. “My whole life he’s been there. And now he’s just…gone.” A single sob slips from her lips, followed by the most devastating scream before she falls forward.
Chloe and I are there in an instant, holding her up before she crashes to the ground. Sobs rack her body, her screams muffled only by my shoulder. I close my eyes and hold her tight as she leans her weight into me. Tears fall down my cheeks, and I clench my jaw so tight that I’m afraid my teeth may shatter. But I won’t scream with her. Instead, I use every shred of strength I have to shelter her, keeping her safe and upright and loved.
Chloe wraps around her from behind, grabbing my arms so that Alex is trapped between us. We cry on the frozen ground until our bodies are spent, and we have nothing else for the universe to take.
Until Alex’s tears finally stop just long enough for her to attempt a deep, uncaught breath. It’s the first time she’s broken since his death, and it’s somehow so much worse than the silence.
She carefully moves, and we release her just enough for her to swipe the sleeve of my jacket across her nose. Her eyes are bloodshot,and just like her mother’s, there are dark circles beneath them. She hasn’t slept in days, and it’s clearly taking a toll.
“I would’ve given him mine,” she says, pressing her fist into the center of her chest. “I wish that I had because I don’t want it.”
My lower lip trembles, and I shake my head because, no, I think selfishly, if Alex gave up her heart, then she wouldn’t be around anymore. My heart would go with her, and we would both be dead because a world without Alex is something I don’t want to imagine.
“He never would’ve taken it,” Chloe says softly. She looks at me over Alex’s shoulders, a fresh set of tears on her own cheeks.
Alex closes her eyes, squeezes them tight, her expression full of pain.
I carefully put my hand on her cheek. “Alex…”
She scrambles to her feet, her eyes wide and panicked, as if my touch burns her. “I have to go,” she says, looking around frantically. “I need to get back.”
Chloe and I exchange a concerned look. “Okay,” I say, slowly standing, careful not to make any sudden movements. “We’ll walk back with you.”
“No. I mean, I need to find a flight back.” She runs a shaky hand through her hair. “I have work and rent. I have to get back to London.”
“You’re going back to London?” I ask at the same time Chloe says, “Babe, work isn’t important right now.”
But Alex is already backing away, either not hearing us or not caring. A conversation with Mason from only a few weeks ago flashes in my mind.She runs because she’s scared.
“You can’t just leave when things get hard.” This makes her stop. “You can talk to me. You can talk to us.”
Her expression shifts from panic to frustration. “I can’t stay here, Jules. Don’t you get that? This place…it holds all my worst memories. Mason, he’s everywhere. Except he’s nothere. This place is filled with him, and I can’t. I just can’t.”
I understand what she means. I see Mason everywhere, too. And, yes, it hurts to think I’ll never see him walk down the street or swing on this swing set or be in another Christmas photo ever again. The realization is sharp and jagged and fresh, but it’s also laced with something good. Because in those memories, I can hear him laughing. I can see him chasing me and Alex around the cul-de-sac in a gameof flashlight tag on warm summer nights. He’s everywhere, and it’s painful and beautiful and bittersweet.
“Doesn’t it hold good memories, too?” I ask, hopeful that she can see some sort of light through the darkness.
“Not enough of them.” Her response is devoid of any kind of warmth, and it sends a shiver straight through me.
Mason’s death is monumental. His absence will be felt in every possible way, every single day for the rest of our lives. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t wonderful moments here, too. And to simply close the book on an entire lifetime’s worth of those type of moments, to just cast them all aside, well, it breaks something inside me.
