Page 2 of My Sweetest Agony
Why?
Why the hell did it have to be him?
I’ve asked the question so many times.
Begged for answers from whatever higher power might be out there.
And a month later, I have none.
No explanation for why Drew was even in that part of town that night.
Nothing that can tell me why he ran that stop sign.
He was the most conscientious person I had ever met. Always meticulous, focused, and thorough in how he did everything. From making love to treating his ER patients to driving…he never left anything to chance. And he was always the best at what he did.
So, lying to me. Being so distracted that he would run a stop sign and?—
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes closed as the warm summer rain splatters my skin and the box. Tears streak down my face, combining with the fat, driving drops until I can’t tell what is from me and what comes from the sky anymore.
After four years, countless promises, and the dream I was so sure had become my reality, all I’m left with is this.
My hands tremble around the box, and I take one last look at the storm outside and kick the door closed. Water drops to the wood floor as I take unsteady steps across the living room to place the wet cardboard on the mantle before I do something stupid—like drop it.
Drop him.
Oh, God…
He’s really in there.
Agony wraps around my chest like a vise, the familiar stranglehold that steals all the air from my lungs, the same way Drew and our future together were stolen from me.
I choke on a sob as I struggle to draw in a breath that only brings Drew’s scent with it—spearmint from his natural shampoo and soap mixed with that crisp, lightly antiseptic smell that always clung to him even after he left the hospital and showered. My vision fades in and out as I stare at the box, seeing Drew’s warm grin and crystal-blue eyes instead of what he is now…
My legs give out, and I collapse in front of the empty fireplace, where there isn’t any heat from flames to reach the chill in my soul. Even if there were, their warmth couldn’t fill the emptiness, the massive, gaping void I’ve felt in the center of my chest since I got the call that night that took everything from me.
For a second, I’m tempted to strike a match, light the stack of logs, and throw myself into them, to let myself become ashes like Drew is now, so we can be together again?—
The shrill ring of my phone on the end table beside the couch drags me away from the very dark place my mind was traveling to, where I’ve spent so much time over the past four weeks.
It rings a second time, the sound so damn loud in the otherwise silent house. A house that used to be so full of music and laughter, that used to be so warm, instead of this cold, hollow place it’s become. I can’t even have any flowers in here—the first time in my entire life that my home doesn’t hold any of that beautiful life. Because I can’t bear to see it.
I don’t want to move.
I don’t want to have to heave myself up off this floor.
A third ring makes me wince.
If I don’t answer it, she’ll just keep calling.
For the past month, it’s been the same routine. The same calls. And I learned that first week that if I don’t pick up, Marlo will be at my front door within twenty minutes.
Using my hands braced against the brick fireplace, I stagger to my unsteady feet, swiping at the tears, as if she can somehow see them.
Thank God she can’t.
If she could, she would be here in fifteen, and the thought of her racing across Philly, worried and distracted, makes panic twist my empty stomach.
Marlo’s name flashes across the screen, and the fourth ring sounds.
