Déja Vu

Twenty-Six

Imagine someone dying.

And imagine the last thing this someone ever told you was that they loved you.

Worse, imagine you never got to say it back.

Then imagine this someone being your brother that saved your life.

I shake in shivers as I try to lock the tears in my eyes. Seated in the middle of Andy's funeral, I can't be crying over Sam. Especially with my best friend being a thread away from shattering down to pieces. Carson has been busy going around receiving condolence from everyone, being asked about her pregnancy, and being investigated about every upcoming moment in her life. I've managed to save her from people quite a few times, but I can't keep up. My mind is swiveling around about how will I spill the news to Nick when he's currently undergoing surgery and will probably be waking up from anesthesia when I arrive. He wouldn't take it well, and being in this condition will probably make it worse for him. Adam being the only undamaged survivor of the wreck, just left ten minutes ago to be ready for Nick when he's out. Though his family is already there, they requested that Adam should be there as well, as temporary proof that he wasn't the only one that came out of the wreck alive. Just a ray of hope for Nick that everyone else is fine, that he'll be fine. Minutes after he wakes up, he'll probably be finding out that he'll be quitting basketball. The information about his friend's death won't be in perfect timing to be shared.

I keep my arms widely spread before me to take in Carson who's swelling up with tears she hasn't let out. She needs to cry, and I want her to but she said if one tear is out it'll drag a breakdown with it, and she would prefer to breakdown on her own. It shatters me how much she's enduring, and how much she'll have to endure more. She just lost her husband, the love of her life, and her child just lost its father before its eyes even bloomed into this world. I wrap her tightly in my embrace trying to convict comfort to her, just any type of reassurance but it isn't working. I don't know why my brain can't quite comprehend that Andy has just died and that might feel like the end of the world for Carson. My mind doesn't know how to deal with death. It accepts it as a heavy guest, letting it in as if it's a written fact but will leave after some time. Or maybe because every single death I've encountered was so sudden to the point that my mind just couldn't take it and lagged off. Since I was hit with the news, I haven't cried, I couldn't cry. Olivia was in a breakdown all the way to the hospital at some point she had a panic attack. We pushed through the doors of the hospital and everything was rushing around me like a vivid dream while I was standing there unaware of the time-lapse around me. Doctors passing, nurses running, officers everywhere, people, too many people that I know but couldn't recognize crying and moving from here to there. Doctors spoke to us with scientific facts and calmness as if we aren't looking for four guys already one of them arrived at the hospital dead. From the second I heard a nurse say that two were in a critical condition, one couldn't make it and the fourth is unknown and I've started to lose consciousness of the current situation. My brain couldn't just brace one single fact. Till this moment I feel like it's just a matter of time before Nick will be on his feet playing basketball again, and that Sam will walk into the room as if nothing has happened, Andy might be following him as well, maybe even the scars covering Adam's back would vanish because nothing happened. They are okay, they're fine, we're fine.

But right at the same time, my brain hits me with the facts.

I'm taken over by two people, the first's brain that knows exactly what happened and its consequences, and the second's heart that has laid down in denial. And those two people just never go well in those types of situations, imagine them being in the same person.

Carson gulps down her tears hiding her face in my hair "Our child isn't even born, yet, Ashley." She whimpers holding herself from breaking down. I keep her in my embrace as I smooth her hair without adding a word because I don't even know what to say. My mind is thinking in the opposite direction of how my heart is headed. When words are unformed it's silence that speaks for them. And I've talked to her in my silence enough to let her know that I'm here, that I'm hurting for her, and that when I told her that I would never leave her years ago that I still stand by my word. She pushes herself away from me when she feels the threads she used to tie herself together loosening. A deep amount of air fills her chest as she nods to me and walks to some people approaching her to hand her their share of condolence. I walk away not knowing what to do, or where to go. It seems like I can't even think of anything. I wander around my place, two steps forward, three backward, and one to the side. I'm just moving to make another part besides my mind work. Through the crowd of people dressed in black, I spot no familiar face. Or maybe there is but I can't detect one. I scan around to double-check until I feel my knees weaken and my heart rate double when I spot him walking in, and like everyone here, he's also fully dressed in black. His eyes meet mine and suddenly I'm grasping for air but it isn't finding its way to my lungs. Every inch in me shudders when the memory of the night comes splashing back, drowning me in panic as I try to think what to do.