Emails

Chapter 44 | Present day

Sam.

Present day.

Elizabeth says she'll be okay. She never says that she is okay. Doctors tell us to wait. We sit silently on a metal bench, the cold searing through my clothes.

She says we should go grab a snack at Liv's house. Their house. I don't want to leave. I sit erect on the metal bench. I have been for the past two days. 47 hours. 13 minutes. Twenty-one seconds.

It's been two days. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. No. She'sgoneshe'sgoneshe'sgone.

I stand. Maybe I should go with Elizabeth. Maybe she can tell me what happened. Maybe it will distract me.

Distract me. I don't have to think like that. I shouldn't think like that.

I leave the bench. Walk. Get in her car. Drive. Stop. Red light. Start. Jesus, how can a drive take that long?

We stop. Get out of the car on shaky legs. Elizabeth opens the door and the once polished house it was?

It isn't anymore.

Walls are cluttered with piling mess. What was white is now gray.

She says come in and I take off my shoes.

She says that there's leftovers in the fridge and she's going to warm them up. "Make yourself comfortable," with a sob rising in her throat. All I can remind her of is her nearly gone daughter.

I leave. Trudge my way up the stairs. I turn the knob. Open the door.

Liv's things are cluttered. On top of her bed. On the floor. She looks like she's going somewhere else.

I see her computer on top of the desk full of books. I hesitate. I'm not supposed to do this. I'm not supposed to do this.

I open the laptop. Type in the same password she always said she used.

Opendoor123.

I asked her what she meant. Now I know what it means.

The door always closes on her, so now I'm trying to keep it open.

Browser.

Email.

I see all the emails I sent her and I fall onto the spinning chair.

I see an icon in the corner. 5 drafts in the folder. I feel myself falling through the door, it's trying to close behind me. I'm keeping it open with my foot.

Click. Click. Click.

And they're all addressed to me.