Friends Forever, huh?

Chapter 37 | stop being a recluse

Cole's been in a coma for six days. Six days. With each day that goes by, my guilt increases--along with my fear that he won't wake up. I've been avoiding people since I went to the hospital on Wednesday night. On Thursday and Friday I begged off going to school, feigning illness. I'm fairly certain my mother knew I was lying, but perhaps she felt sorry enough for me to let it slide. I've disconnected from everything. My powered off phone has laid on my dresser for the last few days.

To be quite honest, I'm not sure what to do with myself. My introverted tendencies have increased tenfold. I miss Cole. Most conversations with other people make me feel like I have to pretend and put on a happy façade. I don't have the energy for that.

"Ashley!" My mother calls, "please come downstairs?"

I grumble under my breath, unwilling to leave my comfortable bed. It's easier up here, not having to pretend that I'm okay. It's easier to pretend that every mention of Cole makes me want to burst into tears. Already, I've cried in front of my mother more than I'd like to say. I hate crying in front of people. Yet, I seem to have no control over my emotions lately. I'm not even on my period!

"Ashley!"

"Coming..."

My mother's sitting at the table, warming her hands on a cup of coffee. She eyes me with concern, "You need to clean yourself up, Ash. We're getting out of this house."

Automatically, I take a few steps back, shaking my head. "I don't want to be around people."

"You have been avoiding people for four days...and I know you aren't sick. I let you skip school Thursday and Friday but you have to go tomorrow. You can't keep shutting the world out."

I cross my arms, avoiding her eyes, "I don't want to see anyone."

My mother narrows her eyes, "Too bad, you and I are going out to dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"We're going out for dessert then."

"I don't want dessert."

I'm fully aware that I'm acting like a brat, but I can't summon enough energy to care.

"Ashley!" Mom throws her hands up in frustration, "we are leaving whether you like it or not. Go take a shower and get ready."

My lip quivers, this time from anger instead of sorrow. I can't believe she's forcing me to go out! Why can't she be an uninvolved mother and just leave me alone with my misery?

"Mom, I can't. You don't know what it's like to lose someone you care about."

It's true that I haven't technically lost him, but just the same, he's been lying unconscious for days. That makes actually losing him feel like a distinct possibility.

"I don't?" My mother asks quietly, and I suddenly remember the way my father left her. "After I got pregnant with you, Benjamin left me. He just disappeared from my life with some shoddy excuse about switching colleges. I was in love with him. I begged him not to leave. But he did. For months after that, I would check the windows and hope that he would show up. That he'd come back and say leaving was a mistake, but he never did. So yes, I understand what it's like to love someone and then lose them."

I'm quiet for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. She almost never talks about my father. I've grown up wondering about him. My whole life, I've dreamed about knowing him--having our family fully intact. But my mother's not quite done, her next sentence devastating me.

"Why do you think I work so much? Yes, to provide for you, but also because it's easier when I'm not thinking about him. It's been seventeen years and I still miss him."

She touches my cheek, "You don't cope like I do. Instead of keeping yourself busy, you keep to yourself and shut everyone out." Her smile is sad, "either way, it's not healthy. You're only making yourself more miserable. I don't want that for you."

"I'm sorry." I whisper, letting that statement encompass everything: my moodiness, her loneliness, my reclusiveness. I'm not ready to see people, but my mother's right; I can't keep hiding from the world. If I stay home, no one can hurt me but myself...but I do a pretty good job of increasing my wounds. I've made myself incredibly miserable. Do I deserve to be miserable? I'm not sure anymore.

She swipes away a tear, giving me a genuine smile this time, "It's okay, Ash. Just go get ready, heading out will be good for you."

Thirty minutes later, I've showered and put on my favorite pair of jeans and a nice shirt. The long sleeves make it easier for me to cover my bruises. They're fading, but still make me wince when I touch them. I've concealed the bags under my eyes, trying to make myself look presentable.

My mother smiles when I come downstairs, "You look nice. Thank you for agreeing to this."

Did I have a choice? I don't argue with her, just smile and slide on a pair of shoes. I'm not entirely convinced that this is a good idea, but what's the worst that can happen? It can't turn into a complete disaster. Right?

My mother drives to Cupcake Corner, a cozy local dessert shop--my very favorite. I allow a genuine smile--the first one I've given in awhile--at the sight of the delectable cupcakes on the shelf.

Chocolate Mocha Crunch. My mouth waters in anticipation. Suddenly, I'm very glad that I agreed to this. That is, I'm glad until my eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones across the room. I nearly drop to my knees right there. It's him.

My mouth drops open in shock. He's here. He's alive...and conscious. And here.

Cole's lips curl up into a hesitant smile as he sees my gaze on him. I can't form any words, so I continue to stare at him in disbelief. Am I dreaming?

"Ashley," he says softly, his voice warm. I try to speak, but only a squeak escapes my lips. My eyes begin to burn instantly, filling with tears.

Cole. Cole. Cole! He's here! He's okay!

Cole walks over to me, taking my hands into his. He intertwines his fingers with mine and my heart nearly skips a beat. He's here and his hands are warm--unlike the cold hands I touched when he was in the hospital.

Cole seems as enraptured as I am--his eyes drinking in my face as if he's a man in a desert who's been searching for water. I'm sure my expression is equally hungry. I thought I'd realized the depths of my longing to see him alive and well but I underestimated it. His breath fans over my face and I take a shallow breath.

Cole smirks suddenly, dropping my hands and fiddling around in his pocket for a little black box. My eyes widen as he drops to one knee. Is this what I think it is?

***

HAHA THIS CLIFFHANGER THOUGH. I'm so mean. Sorry not sorry.

BUT COOOOLE. He's okay! And he and Ashley are in the same place. HAPPINESS.

-J