Page 97 of A World Without You
She slips on her second step, and we muffle our laughter as if she can hear us.
Todd shakes his head and helps her up. “You better not take me with you!” Colin mimics. They slip and tumble to the ground until they just sit.
“Are we going to hell for laughing at this?” I ask through tears of laughter.
“Yes!” Colin wheezes, the crinkle next to his eyes filled with happy tears.
Then, as we slowly come down from our laughter, we notice the couple—honorary Todd and Margot—are holding hands, laughing hysterically. Margot grabs a rogue donut from the box on the ground and hands it to Todd. He grabs it and takes a bite. She shouts something.
“You’re going to get Hepatitis!” I mimic Margot and Colin laughs.
So does the couple on the sidewalk. For a moment, I make a wish for them. That they’re happy and in love and they live out their days screaming and laughing and loving each other.
I smile at Colin as he focuses on his breathing to calm down. I want to freeze this moment. Colin’s face without a care in the world. No hurt. No anger. No unbridled forgiveness. Just joy in his eyes and laughter in his smile. Then he turns and wipes his eyes, returning to his original task at hand.
“I brought you meds and elderberry and apple cider vinegar—” he pauses as if he thinks I’m about to object before he continues, “I know you hate the taste, but you need to take it.”
I nod, unable to stop smiling. I have so much respect for this man and how he’s loved me. “I’ll take it. Don’t worry.”
“You need to get better for Christmas,” he says, guiding me to the bed and handing me the gummies and two gel capsules I need to swallow with a glass of water.
Christmas. When I leave. “Well, it’s not Christmas until somebody gets sick,” I say.
Colin pauses and turns from looking out the window. “What?”
“Oh, just Bennett said that yesterday when...” I catch myself before I finish. “I mean, not yesterday, just...once. He said somebody has to get sick for it to be Christmas.” I force an uncomfortable laugh—no signs of the earlier humor in my voice. I’ve played the part of these two roles well up until this point.
Colin squints at me, and his brow twists in thought. “Right. Man, you haven’t seen him in years...not since the accident.”
The words slice through my chest like knives. I gasp and sit up, ignoring the dizziness in my head and the nausea in my gut. “What accident?”
“Five years ago, at Christmas...”
Then the lines go blurry until the world goes black.
TWENTY-TWO
