After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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Haven does not return to school the following week.
Despite the fact that all of her loved ones are holding onto hope that the symptoms she has been experiencing lately are not related to her accident, her mother wants to stay on the safe side until the results of her brain scan have been issued. As much as Haven despises this, I understand where her mother comes from. I have since learned it is better to be safe than sorry.
I try not to worry, but it is hard. I worry for Haven's life, constantly swept up in a storm of What ifs. What if it isn't nothing? What if the results come back negative? What if, what if, what if.
On top of this, I worry for Haven simply because I love her. She hates being stuck at home, especially now that her parents have decided it would be best to wait on results before driving any longer. She says she is a prisoner in her own house, though secretly I agree with her parents. However, I don't waste a second of time not by her side whenever I can control it.
After school, I go to her house and we spend the afternoons in bed. Haven, being the nerd that she is, is adamant she still completes assignments so as not to fall behind. So we complete our work together before finding other things to do during the evenings, like watching movies with her brother, or staring up at the ceiling and talking until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes, our parents allow me to stay the night under the condition that we actually try to sleep.
It is one of those nights now, with Haven at my side, the both of us smothered by blankets and darkness.
Haven's fingertips play with mine as we lay in silence. The sun is due to rise soon, and I suppose we're both clouded by exhaustion. We don't sleep when we are together, both too afraid to waste even a second of time with one another, despite saying we aren't worried that Haven will make it through this. Not knowing can be just as much of a curse as being oblivious can be a blessing.
Haven shifts. The mattress creaks as she turns on her side, facing me instead of upward. I turn my head as well, just able to make out the whites of her eyes as she stares back at me.
"What if . . ." Haven allows her words to trail off. She is thoughtful for a moment before whispering, "What if there's something wrong?"
I blanch briefly. Neither of us have outwardly discussed the what ifs. Honestly, I'm not sure that I could bear to.
"And what if nothing is?" I whisper in return. I smile reassuringly as I rest a loving hand atop her cheek, as if trying to stop her train of thought with nothing more than a touch.
"But . . . what if something is?" Haven repeats after a moment. She eyes me warily, as if worried to press me too hard.
I purse my lips. "Haven . . . you can't think like that. It's late. I know you're tired. Let's just–"
"I'm always thinking about it," Haven cuts me off, tone harsh yet soft all at once. "And I know you are too. We just . . . don't talk about it. Maybe I want to talk about it."
