I nodded, stepping towards him. Miguel was the most laid back person I’d ever known but he hated the cemetery. Never visited Will’s grave. I once overheard him telling Leah he didn’t want to think of Will buried under the earth; it was too morbid and miserable. If he wanted to feel close to Will, work was the best place to be, not somewhere that didn’t hold good memories of him, somewhere Will had never been connected to.
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
Miguel slipped his jacket off and placed it around my shoulders. The warmth was welcome after the cold chill of the night air. He wrapped his arm around me, guiding me towards home as my tears continued to silently fall.
“I don’t want tea.”
Miguel halted on his way to my kitchen and turned to me. I stood in the hallway, his jacket still over my shoulders. My tears had dried, but my legs ached. My heart ached.
So. Damn. Tired.
“Do you want anything?” he asked.
“Beer and sleep.”
He shook his head. “Not beer. You’re shivering; you need something warm.”
In a childish protest, I shrugged his jacket off and threw it over the chair in the hallway before pushing past him and grabbing a beer from the fridge.
He was right, of course. I didn’t need or want alcohol. I should have thrown on my PJs and gone right to bed, but hey, doing that every single night hadn’t made me feel any better so far. What if changing my routine held the key to snapping me out of my funk?
Hell of a night. Hell of a day. Hell of a week.
Miguel followed me into the living room and we both sat down in the best corner, the one with all the bean bags and pillows. I took a drink of my beer then offered the bottle to Miguel. He hesitated for a second before taking it and raising it to his lips. After a few swallows he handed it back to me, and with a sigh I placed it on the small table beside me. I didn’t really want it. Didn’t want anything except a few hours of peace.
“What’s going on, Freya? Is this why you’re not sleeping? Because you’ve been spending a lot of time at the cemetery?”
I turned to my head to look at him, ready to bitch him out for his insensitivity, because who the hell was he or anyone else to judge me on the limited amount of things I could do to ease the pain? But I noticed how his eyes had dimmed, all sign of light and life drained away. Miguel was as tired as me.
“That’s not why. I don’t usually go there at night; I’m not insane.”
I reached for the beer bottle again and took another drink, hoping it would take the edge off the awkwardness of the conversation; of having the conversation with someone who intensified my sadness.
“I know you’re not insane. I’m worried about you. I want to help.”
“You can’t help, Miguel. Not unless you can fast forward my life to a point when this stops hurting.” I let out a hollow chuckle. “I don’t think that place exists though. And worrying? What good does it do? It just means one more person is unhappy. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will be. But until then, I’ll worry.”
He meant well, which only made me feel worse for trying to withdraw from him. Being around Miguel again was another thing I needed to tackle; just like being at work, doing my job, trying to fit back into the team, and getting through every day without curling up into a ball until the pain stopped. Each thing on the list seemed impossible to overcome, a string of never ending struggles.
I handed the beer bottle back to Miguel. “I should go to bed. You wanna crash in the spare room?”
His eyes widened a little, but he nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
With a small smile, I stood up. “Goodnight.”
“Night, Freya.”
I walked through the cemetery, my eyes flicking left and right as I searched for him. Where did he go? I saw him only a moment ago, caught a glimpse of him before he vanished and left me calling out his name. As fog descended around me, casting a sinister light around the gravestones and making it hard to see, I called out again.
“Will!”
No answer. The fog grew thicker, and my heart raced. He was here. He was here.
I took off running, tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t let him slip away from me again. I had to get him back, but the darkness, the mist, it thickened until I could no longer see.
“Freya!”