ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 carry up the stairs and under the crack of my bedroom door. I woke to the sound, looking around at what possibly could have changed. What could be so different from the night before? I crept down to the first floor, scared of what I'll find. "Mom?"
Her head snapped in my direction. It was early in the morning, but make-up ran down her face like river water. "Oh, Maeve," she says, her lips quivering as she held a tissue up to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."
"Mommy, what's going on?" I ask. I hurried towards her, panic filling my veins. "Just tell me what's wrong."
"It was so dark, Baby. They just couldn't see him."
"See who?"
"It was a windy road--so many tricky turns and curves."
"Mom!" I snap. I hate yelling at her when she was breaking like this, but I need to find out who she is talking about. "Who didn't they see?"
"Sit down," she sniffs. My eyebrows drew together as I sat across from her on the couch. She held my hands and controlled her breathing. "Your friend Jesse is dead."
Dead. Dead. Dead. Her words became foggy. Jesse is dead. My friend, Jesse.
No, it couldn't have been Jesse. Jesse doesn't die. It isn't Jesse. I am almost certain that he is okay, snoring quietly with his brother in the room next to him. He is okay--he has to be. They must have the wrong person. They must have misidentified. They will have a funeral, but it won't be for Jesse.
He was hit by a truck driver. It was dark and the road was full of sharp turns. There's nothing that could have been done. They tried, Sweetheart.
"Whatever they think they found..." I hesitantly whisper. "...is not Jesse. Not my Jesse. He's okay. He'll be at the airport when I leave. He's fine, Mom."
Her voice was steady compared to my shaky one. I didn't want to listen.
I wish you were right, but it's really him. I'm so, so sorry. It's Jesse. He's gone, Baby.
My chest was heavy and my face was burning. I can not move. I can not do anything. I am more wounded than I ever have been. I wait for myself to wake up, for real this time. I wait to feel the sweat of a nightmare drip down my body as I reach for the phone. I would call Jesse and tell him. I would listen to his laugh and smile when he says that I couldn't get rid of him that easily.
But it does not come. I do not jolt up in bed, I am already awake. This is real. Oh my god, this is real. My body collapses into my mom's. She rocks me as tears leak from me. There is no stopping the sob that guts me from the inside out. Jesse Hall is dead. Jesse, who had so much more life to live. Thirteen years is not enough, not nearly enough. He can't leave us behind. Jesse Hall is a fighter. But now I know, I am not.
There is a pounding at my front door. Everything is different now. I will never live the life I had 12 hours ago. I knew one thing could put a bump in your plans--could throw you off, but you always get back up. You always dust yourself off and keep going. But this, I do not think I will ever recover from. This is something I will never be able to dust off. I leap up from the couch and to the door because I can not just sit and weep. Crying does not seem like enough for how much weight my shoulders are carrying. I feel so incredibly numb that I want nothing more than for something to hurt. I want to feel the pain. It disgusts me that the heartbreak hasn't set in yet--it hasn't ripped me apart from head to toe. Just let me feel something, anything.
Guy is standing on the front step, his blond hair sticking to his forehead--drenched completely. The earth is mourning with us in these early hours of shock. Rain fell like the tears on Guy's face. He meets my eyes and pushes himself so quickly toward me that I take a step back to regain my balance. His arms wrap around my waist and hold me against him, tightly. Guy's head falls into my shoulder and I run my fingers through his hair. I do not care that he is soaking my pajamas with his wet clothes and tears. I do not care that we agreed to hate each other. I lost my friend, Jesse. But he lost his best friend, Jess.
