Page 164 of Breaking Point
Mrs. Carson steps forward, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, no doubt using me as a replacement for who she truly wants to hug and never let go of. “You say thank you,” she murmurs.
“Thank you isn’t enough, though.”
I wink. “You can repay me by calling every day.”
“Of course I will.” Layla lifts her head, the oversized lilac sweater swimming on her. “I’m going to miss you all.”
A squeak escapes Mrs. Carson and before she starts weeping, I jump in. “You’ll be home before you know it.”
Mrs. Carson bites her wobbling lower lip and nods, not able to speak without bursting into tears. It looks like it’s taking everything in her to control the tirade of emotions.
Because she can’t talk, I say, “Now, you’ve watched enough crime documentaries with my mom. You know what not to do?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s the speech I don’t need. My anxiety is already through the roof about it.”
Mr. Carson wraps his arms around her. “Just be safe. You’re my baby girl, and I want you to come back in one piece.”
“I will, Dad.”
A sudden announcement comes over the speakers, urging passengers to get to their gate earlier than scheduled due to security delays.
Charlotte stiffens around me and I know it’s coming. The moment Layla has to walk away.
She’s getting the help that she deserves, I remind myself.
Layla lifts her gaze to me, then to her mom. “One last group hug?”
I can’t help it, and by the sound Charlotte makes, she can’teither. We rush her, bursting into tears and squeezing her a little too tightly.
After a moment, I think Layla realizes she will have to be the one to pull away because none of us can. “I should get going,” she whispers.
“Have you got everything you need?” Charlotte asks.
Layla dips her head. “You’ve prepared me well, Mom.” She looks at all of us before laughing. “I have no idea how to walk away so I’m just going to wave goodbye and turn around, no looking back.”
“No looking back,” we murmur in unison.
With a sad pathetic wave, Layla whispers, her voice cracking, “Bye, I’ll see you next year.” And with that my best friend turns, walking toward security.
But I don’t move. Neither do her parents. We all hold our breaths because we know her. And just as I think she really isn’t going to look back, she turns, her eyes filled with tears.
My hand flies into the air, waving frantically like a lunatic until I see her laugh, and then security is ushering her along and my best friend disappears from view.
The crushing weight of her loss hits me so swiftly I find it hard to breath.
“This is going to be hard,” I announce as I rub the ache in my chest.
“She’ll be back in no time,” Charlotte whispers, her cheeks wet from the tears rolling freely down them.
The second I sat in the privacy of my car I broke down.
The tears never wavered, not for the entire forty-two-minute drive back to Grayson’s. I should have taken the day off, allowed myself to go home and wallow that my best friend, the only person who truly sees when I’m hurting, is gone for a year.
She has been there for me every single day since my mom got diagnosed. Before that we were inseparable too, but Layla was right all along. Once there are health issues, you truly see who your friends are and who they aren’t.
Layla learned that lesson the hard way.
But she’s been there for me, and now it’s my turn to be there for her through this journey.
