Page 93 of Objection
The pain was so intense in my chest that I clutched a hand there, right over my heart. It was being ripped out of my chest, all over again, after all these years.
“So, she left you, then,” Sam filled in where I had cut off.
“No,” I laughed derisively. “No, she did not just leave me.”
I took a strong swig of my whiskey, downing the last of it in one gulp and reveling in the burn it gave me. I needed that pain to get through this.
“No, our fight lasted well over three hours, to the point that my roommate, having slipped in for just a moment, left and found somewhere else to sleep for the night. No, she stormed out after all those things I had said, things I could never take back, and she got in her car and drove off. She drove down the road towards the small apartment she shared with her best friend. But she didn’t get there.”
“Oh god…” Sam barely whispered.
“Oh god is right. It was well after one in the morning and a man named Charles Morris was drunk off his ass, driving his Ford F-150 back home. But he fell asleep at the wheel in his drunken stupor. He never saw Laurel’s little Chevy hatchback. I’m not even sure how much he noticed when he crossed the center line and hit her, straight on, going 80 miles an hour.”
The silence in the room ticked by slowly, painfully slowly.
“Ren—”
“Don’t. Just, don’t Sam. I don’t want to hear the platitudes or the mediocre pity. I know everything you could possibly say right now, and I’ve heard it all. Time and again. It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known. Trust me, I’ve heard everything you could possibly say.” I held a hand up, stopping her speech.
“How about this then,” a voice called from behind me, in the doorway. “Is this the life you think Laurel would want you to live?”
The sound of Posey’s voice made my stomach drop to the floor and had fluttering excitement exploding throughout my body all at the same time. It was almost nauseating.
I turned to see her, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed lightly around her torso, and a contemplative look on her face.
“Posey—”
“No, Soren, I’m serious. Do you think this is the kind of life Laurel would want for you?” She restated, stepping slowly into the room, continuing her path until she stood before me.
What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to act?
Here I was, baring my soul, re-telling the worst moments of my life to a trusted friend, and then Posey shows up. She heard the whole thing? What did she think? Was she as ashamed of me as I was of myself?
“I— I don’t know, honestly,” I answered timidly.
“Bullshit.” The word echoed as both women spoke at the same time.
“I knew I’d like you, Red,” Sam smirked, walking over to where Posey stood. “I’m Sam by the way.”
“Posey, nice to meet you.” Posey’s voice held a sour tone that surprised me.
“I will let the two of you talk. You need to. I’m here— for both of you — should you need anything. Ren knows how to get a hold of me.” With a piercing look, more of a warning, Sam left, leaving Posey and I there, in pure silence.
“Well, are you going to answer?” She reiterated.
“I did answer.”
“That wasn’t an answer, and you know it,” she tossed back. She was angry. Well, maybe not angry, but frustrated. “Soren, you are so caught up on what you did that night, so stuck on refusing to forgive yourself, that you aren’t seeing the life you are missing.”
“It was my fault.”
“You and I, and Sam for that matter, all know that isn’t true. What happened to Laurel was absolutely, without a doubt tragic. But it wasn’t your fault. You two fought. Couples fight. All couples fight. And if they say they don’t, they are lying. You know this. Were you being an ass? Yes, of course! But so were most people in high school or college. Hell, we all had our days of being unreasonable assholes. That doesn’t mean that you caused this to happen,” she argued passionately.
“You don’t know that. If I hadn’t fought with her that night, she wouldn’t have stormed out. She wouldn't have even been on the road!” I yelled back with all the frustration I was feeling.
“Okay, so then, by your logic, if I hadn’t been happy here at your house, then I wouldn’t have killed David. Right?”
Dammit.
