Page 87 of When We Crash

The first one was an old one from Tim, insisting he’d come to visit for Thanksgiving. He didn’t. I tried not to cry.

The second one was Tim apologizing for not coming on Thanksgiving but promising he’d be here for Christmas. He wouldn’t. I didn’t try not to cry. I sobbed like a baby.

The third was from the hospital, stating there’d been a fire and my brother was dead upon arrival but that they were doing everything in their power to save my mother. I wanted to throw my phone, but I didn’t.

All these things I did and didn’t do. And Tim was doing nothing.

“Our flight is in three hours. You have to pack,” Dexter announced, breaking me from my morbid spell.

I was in a haze as I threw things together. I looked down, realizing a pair of shorts had made their way into the pile. I dumped out the suitcase and Dexter walked over, picking up the items that would be appropriate to wear in the cold.

Finally, my bags were packed and I was bundled up. I managed to lock the front door and we got into his car, his driver still waiting for us. We reached the terminal a short time later and were going through the motions. Security checked and double-checked, and we waited for the flight to board. I leaned my head on Dexter’s shoulder, and he ran his fingers through my hair.

“You don’t listen to music anymore?” he asked.

I looked up at him in confusion. What an odd thing to mention now. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it would be good for you.” He stroked his fingers up and down my arm. “I don’t know, when you listened to music, you had this peace about you. It settled you. Ralph was a lot like you when it came to that. You both had a sincere love for it.”

I settled deeper into his arms. There was definitely something to be said for the comfort of being with someone you used to love. Someone you still loved. While it was new and exciting, it was still like home. Like the time I forgot about that white dress in the back of my closet last summer. I wore it and it was like new, especially to everyone else. But only I knew the secret of that eighteenth summer and falling in love at the lake house before it all came crashing down.

“I guess I let that love go,” I whispered.

There was an announcement over the intercom and Dexter stood, picking up our things. I followed him, numbly showing the stewardess our tickets before we headed into the hall leading us to the plane. He stowed our carry-ons while I got comfortable in the window seat. It wasn’t hard to do in first-class.

Still, in a few hours, I’d be back in the place that bore my most unfortunate days.

Dexter settled into the seat next to me and took my hand. “Aunt Tracey will be so excited to see you. And I heard Ralph is visiting, too.”

He was trying to cheer me up. It was working.

I smiled softly and looked out the window. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

* * *

The plane shookas we hit the runway. I ran my hand over my yawning mouth. I looked over at Dexter, who somehow slept through the turbulence. I shook him lightly and he woke up in time, some sort of happiness tugging his lips upward despite him not being all that conscious.

“What’s got you happy?” I asked.

“I’ve pleased an old friend,” he whispered and placed his warm hand on my neck, bringing me in for a quick kiss.

“You’re insane.”

The plane stopped but we had to wait before we could exit. My eyes were on Dexter, always on him whenever he was around. Even after that small nap, he was nice to look at.

Meanwhile, my waves were likely a mess and I bet I had drool marks or gunk in my eyes. Because life wasn’t fair that way.

“‘She hardly knew at times what it was she feared, and what she hoped for. Whether she feared or desired what had happened, or what was going to happen, and exactly what she longed for, she could not have said.’” His eyes didn’t stray from mine, not for a moment, as he recited the words I’d read a hundred times since high school.

It was exactly what I was experiencing since he’d kicked down the walls I’d spent years building, just by bumping into me at a restaurant.

When I remained silent, looking away and down at my hands, he turned back to face forward. His next words were so quiet, I felt myself lean toward him to hear them.

“‘All he wanted now was to be better than before.’”

This one caught me by surprise. I wanted to tell him he couldn’t be better. I wanted to say he’d been the best and that was why he was still the person who had complete control over me. That was why I fought myself time and again between being upset and angered over our past and letting myself fall back into the love we once had. Instead, I sat back and remained quiet.

Better to keep those words.