Page 148 of Older
Some goodbyes just came far too soon.
CHAPTER 30
Outside the window, through vertical blinds, all the ink slowly leaked from the sky as the sun began to rise, turning it cerulean blue. Tara and I lay sprawled together in our new queen-size bed that her mother had purchased for us, staring up at a galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Per Tara, nobody ever grew too old for glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars.
We hadn’t slept; we’d stayed up all night, talking, reminiscing, laughing through tears.
After tumbling through the front door for our first full night of sleep at the new apartment, we’d made a chef-worthy dinner of Spaghetti-O’s and double-chocolate ice cream sundaes, then jumped on the bed, screaming the lyrics to every song on the Jagged Little Pill CD in our pajamas, while glueing constellation stickers to the popcorn ceiling.
It had been a good night.
Memorable, innocent, carefree. The calm before the storm.
And maybe that was why I hadn’t slept, couldn’t compel my eyes to close for longer than a few fretful heartbeats. I was savoring. I was sampling. I was pretending that what was would always be.
While my best friend spoke of the future with bare-boned joy, my ribs splintered with gritty shards of grief. Boxes were half-unpacked, unlike Reed’s stacked boxes—filled to the brim, littering his own apartment. A fresh beginning. A tragic end. All at the same time.
And that was a tragedy in of itself.
Tara linked our fingers together as birdsong trickled in through the cracked window on a breeze. “Will you miss him?” she asked softly.
Darkness faded from the sky and jumped ship to my heart. Rudders cracked, masts tore, and waves crested and surged, swallowing my reply.
All I did was squeeze her hand and nod.
Reed was leaving at the end of the month. Three more weeks. The hours ticked down like a splintering thread, unraveling my strength, little by little, while June faded into a stormy July.
Reed had finally broken the news of his departure to Tara and Whitney. It had been a tension-filled evening, and the mood that had washed over the dinner table had turned colder than the uneaten food. Tara had been confused and disappointed by the revelation, while Whitney had said it would be a good change of scenery for him. New ventures, new goals.
All I’d heard was: a new woman to pursue.
Surely, she’d been thinking it.
Days later, Tara was still trying to make sense of the sudden bombshell.
“I can’t believe he’s leaving,” Tara continued, the light mood compromised by a topic that hurt more than my decadelong abuse. “It feels so random.”
“Maybe there’s more to the story.”
I shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have put ideas and gnawing whispers in her head. It would only lend itself to answerless questions.
“Like what?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Tara sighed, our two-toned tangle of hair splashed across the cream pillow. “It’s weird. Family has always come first for Dad. Unless…” Trailing off, she stuttered out a breath and canted her head toward me. “Do you think it’s because of a woman?”
I blinked up at the faux stars and made a billion silent wishes. My heart crumbled, the debris slithering through me and settling in the pit of my stomach. “Maybe.”
She let go of my hand and wrenched the covers up to her chin, thinking it over. “I had a feeling he was seeing someone. I figured she was local, but maybe he started something out in Charleston and wants to try again.”
Everything inside of me curled and shriveled up, my mouth going dry.
All I could muster was, “Yeah.”
Another sigh escaped her, longer, heavier. “I should talk to him before he leaves. See what’s going on.” Her nose wrinkled with reflection. “Mom thinks it’s strictly for work, but I know him better than that. He has a good job here.”
I marinated in her words, silent and stiff. More light filtered in through the blinds, bathing us in dawn’s first blush. Fatigue washed over me, a consequence of the sleepless night and my restless mind, and I turned onto my side, gazing at her profile across the pillow.