Work Me Up

My eyes fly open. And there she is. Selena’s standing a few feet away, a coffee mug in one hand and an overflowing bag of books in the other, with the brand of a local indie bookstore stamped across it.

She smiles a little sheepishly when she catches me looking, and shrugs. “It’s the book nerd equivalent of falling off the bandwagon,” she explains. “Sometimes buying a heap of new books is the only thing that makes me feel better.”

I climb to my feet, frowning. “I’m sorry that you needed to do that because of me,” I tell her, stepping aside so she can unlock her door. “If you’d rather I go, I can, I just wanted to apologize first—”

But she’s shaking her head, cutting me off. “Come in.”

Trying not to get my hopes up, but unable to resist, I trail her into the apartment. This time, when my gaze lands on the photographs, I notice the similarities between Selena’s face and her brother’s. It’s subtle, but they have similar eyes, and their jawlines almost match.

I also notice the placement of those photographs. Front and center, right where you’d place someone you don’t want to forget about.

I don’t know how I ever could have thought he was an ex or a boyfriend or something stupid like that. “Selena, I’m sorry,” I start again, but she cuts me off, lifting one hand to stop me in my tracks.

“I already heard your apology out in the corridor,” she says. The corner of her mouth twitches up into a faint smile. “And I accept. But…” She sighs and drops the bag of books onto a chair, and then sinks onto the couch. This close, I can see that her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with dried tear tracts.

My heart clenches hard in my chest.

I hesitate, but only for a split second. Then I drop onto the couch beside her and hold out an arm. She looks at me for a long, quiet moment. Then she scoots closer, and leans against me, letting me drape my arm around her shoulders and hold her tight against my side.

“You had a point,” she murmurs. “Not about thinking my brother was my boyfriend, ew, gross.” She swats my chest playfully, and I chuckle. This time when she sighs, she’s so close to me that I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine. “But I should open up more. I should talk about it.” She frowns across the room at the photo of them. “It hurts to do it. But afterward… I feel a little bit better. Lighter. Like talking about it helps me share the burden of missing him, a little bit.”

I rub her arm gently, up and down. “That makes sense,” I say softly. “When my mom died, I tried to bottle it up for the first year. I never spoke to anyone about it, didn’t want to confront it or deal. I was in denial, looking back.”

Selena tilts her head back so her chin rests on my chest, and she peers up at me. “How did you get over it?” she asks quietly.

I shake my head. “Wrong question. You never really get over losing a loved one. Part of you will always miss them.” I tighten my grip again, and she shifts a little closer to me on the couch, her soft curves melding against my side. “But when you talk about them, and remember them… Then it’s like they’re there with you, for a little bit. At least in your memory. It helps.”

Selena rests her cheek on my chest now, right above my heart. I know what she’s hearing. The steady thud of my pulse, always fast when she’s around, but not as quick as usual this time. Because it feels calming, to sit with her like this. To open up to each other.

“Daniel was a total goofball,” Selena finally says quietly. “We used to have all these dumb inside jokes…” She’s grinning. “They wouldn’t make sense to anybody but us, but we could keep each other laughing for hours on end.”

“He sounds great.”

“He was.” She bites her lip and lapses into quiet again. We sit like that for a little while, but it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Far from it. I feel more comfortable sitting here like this than I have in a long, long time. “The accident…”

“You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” I say softly.

She shakes her head, though. “No, you’re right. I should try to. At least to get some kind of… closure, if that’s possible.” She presses her lips together tightly. “We were out at a party. Normally I always drove us to parties, because Daniel was a year older than me, and he really liked drinking, whereas I was sort of meh on it. Like, I’ll have a beer or two, but I don’t love the taste anyway, so… Usually I was the designated driver. And besides, I loved driving so much.”