“Yes.”
“Do you think if he’d been in your shoes, Cooper would be kicking himself like you still are?”
“Absolutely. He’d be wondering what he could’ve done differently, and doing what I’m doing and analyzing every movement I made before and during the storm.”
“No, Elijah. Analysis is different from emotion, you’re pitting technicalities against reason. Coop was reasonable, and he was level-headed. Given all of that, would he be kicking himself like you are? And by that, I mean holding himself to blame like a cold-blooded murderer.”
Fuck.
He was right—actions versus sense and reason.
“No,” I admitted begrudgingly. “He’d want to go back and do things differently, even plan out how he’d have done it. But he wouldn’t be looking at himself like a cold-blooded murderer.”
“Right, I didn’t think so.” There was a brief pause, and I focused on Dobby so I didn’t have to acknowledge the burning in my eyes. “Next question: how many times do you need to fight someone and feel the pain when they hit you until you feel like you’ve been punished enough?”
I swear, hearing those words made the world stop turning, and all noise disappear from it. Not just because Samson knew I’d been fighting, but also because he was right. I’d been fighting and thinking I was working out stress and tension, but now I realized I’d been trying to get punished for what’d happened.
“You still with me, E.T.?”
Licking my lips, I stared blindly at a photo of Sadie with her brother. I didn’t need to see it because I’d already memorized every detail, including the street sign behind her with The Glade written on it—the street she’d lived on in England.
“Yeah,” I rasped. “I didn’t… fuck!”
“Yeah,” Samson repeated, “you didn’t know that you were looking for punishment. But the problem is, pal, you’re not going to find it like that. The bigger problem is, you’re looking for something you’re never going to feel because you know deep down that you don’t need punishing.”
Groaning, I hung my head and grabbed a fistful of hair. A part of me deep inside agreed with what he was saying, but a more significant part of me needed to blame someone—me. “It was my job to save him.”
“It was your job to save people who could be saved, Elijah, not the ones who’ve died. I’m not a deeply spiritual man, I’ve never been one, but even I believe that everyone on earth has a time they’re meant to be here for. That time can be short, it can be long. The ending can be peaceful, or it could be a God damn Greek tragedy. We never know when that time’s going to hit us, so we have to live life to the max so we don’t leave behind an empty legacy.”
I nodded, not even thinking about the fact he couldn’t see me do it.
“Cooper made an impact on the world in the twenty-eight years he was with us. He did a job he loved that not many could do, and he loved the fuck out of the sea. Do you think he’d want to die in a car accident or being hit by lightning? No, he lived in the sea, it was his happy place, and you have to respect and appreciate the fact that he died where he’d want to die.”
“Not then,” I rasped. “He wouldn’t have wanted to die that soon. He’d have wanted to be saved.”
“You think?” he asked incredulously. “Few people actually want to die, Elijah. I’ve seen people on the cusp of it, begging God to grant them more time. I’ve seen men panic and kill themselves when they’ve thought they had no more time,” I knew that case because I’d been there, too. We’d boarded a drug smuggling sub, and knowing that they’d be killed in prison, the guys onboard had shot themselves in the head before we could stop them. “Cooper most definitely didn’t want to die then because he had plans. But then, so did you, didn’t you, E.T.?”
Christ!
“You had plans together and were about to start making them happen. Do you think he’d want you to cancel them all to live your life the way you are right now? Do you think he’d want you to live a life of misery, pain, and desolation? Or do you think he’d want you to live life to the God damn max, be happy as fuck, find a woman and have kids?”
My answer was instant. “He’d want me to live life, be happy, find a woman, and have a bunch of fucked up kids.”
When he spoke again, it was with a barely concealed rage that made his words pour out of him harshly. “And do you think he’d be happy with his family for how they’re treating you?”
Out of all of the questions, this was the hardest for me to answer. I felt disloyal to the people I’d grown up with, the ones who’d been there with me pretty much every step of the way. The ones who now held me responsible for Cooper breaking his neck and dying on the ship.