Chapter Eleven
Jesse
Before
I looked at the time on my dashboard and it showed it was just a little past one in the afternoon. I had been in my car for over two hours. I couldn’t recall a single one of those minutes. Not getting in the driver’s seat, starting the engine, or pulling out of the parking lot of my father’s doctor’s office.
But I knew I had done all of those things because two hours ago I was there.
And now I was …
I read the signs on the buildings around me, looking at the people walking past my car. It appeared here was Saint Michael’s College—a campus I’d never been to even though it wasn’t far from my house. I was parked in a lot with three large brick buildings in front of me, the sign on the middle one said it was a library.
I didn’t know what made me remove my seatbelt and climb out, but I continued across the pavement, stepping over leaves and rocks and a small puddle from this morning’s rain storm. My fingers were suddenly gripping the cold metal handle and I was pulling the door open.
“Can I help you?” I heard someone say as I walked inside.
My hand went in the air, fingers waving. I wasn’t sure what kind of response that was or how they’d take it, but it was all I had right now. Once my arm dropped, I found myself moving deeper into the room. With each step, the belt from my trench coat squeezed my navel even harder, making it more difficult to breathe. I wasn’t sure why I had tied it so tightly. If I had the energy, I would loosen it, but the only thing moving these limbs was adrenaline.
I weaved through several large stacks and the next time I looked up, I saw some familiar titles across from me. I took one off the shelf and walked with it until I found myself sitting in an oversized leather chair. The book was so old, the paper spine was cracked, and it hit my lap and fell open directly in the middle.
I didn’t focus on the people walking past me or the different sounds happening around me.
I didn’t think about what had sent me here.
All I did was focus on the words.
I wasn’t sure if I was in that chair for an hour or seven. I didn’t look at a clock from the moment I had gotten to the library. I just knew at some point I sent Viv a message that told her to pick up Tommy and feed him dinner. Another text went to Luz, asking her to make a plate for each of them, taping the heating instructions to the tinfoil.
Once those texts were sent, I didn’t glance up again until I reached the last page. My hands ached as the hardcover rested on them. My mouth was so dry, my lips could barely open.
I needed water.
I needed to get up from this chair.
I needed to change my clothes and wash this morning off of me. I could still taste the vomit in my mouth from when my father’s doctor had walked into the room my mother and I had been sitting in and delivered the news to us.
News I already knew.
News I didn’t want him to confirm.
What the hell am I doing here?
I left the book on the table next to me and got on my feet. My legs were stiff and sore. My jacket was still tied too tightly and my purse hadn’t moved from my shoulder, although I didn’t even remember bringing it from the car.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat and made my way through the library.
“Have a good evening,” I heard on my way out.
It was a different voice this time. It had been a man’s voice before, I was sure of it.
I still didn’t stop or even look in the speaker’s direction. I just rushed for the door and the darkness outside almost took my breath away. So did the cold when I eventually felt it, the sharpness of it burning my skin. It ached just like the reality I was faced with today. Like the doctor’s expression when he had delivered the results from the final round of tests.
Oh God, why.
The pavement was slick as I hurried across it. Once I reached my car, I threw myself in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Before I shifted into reverse, the streetlamp in front of me caught my attention. It was shining through the windshield, the light almost an orange glow.
I didn’t know why it happened in that moment. Why it hadn’t occurred earlier or much later that day. But in my car, under the streetlamp, my mind decided it was time to break down.
A sob came bursting through my lips.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
It felt like a surge of electricity was moving through my body. Part of me wanted to vomit again. Part of me wanted to tuck my legs against my chest and rock in a ball.
It hurt.
It hurt worse than anything I’d ever felt.
My hand hit the steering wheel and, “Why,” was the only sound that came out. It rolled across my tongue, the syllable holding steady until I ran out of breath.
I knew no one would answer me, but I still screamed it.
Again.
And again.