Hey, Ash

Part 9

I couldn't do it. I couldn't look. When they started walking by the shiny black box, I ran. They promised you would be wearing your plane, and I just have to believe them, because I'm not strong enough to be sure myself. I hope you don't mind. I don't know which is harder though, what I ran from or what I'm about to do.

            The boys each made a beautiful speech. They played a song they wrote for you, and it was the most wonderful thing I have seen. I found my fingernails very fascinating during the slide show, and mom kept nudging me to make me look up, but have you ever really looked at your hands? There is so much you can find about them if you just want to.

            It's raining right now, so if the ink bleeds that's why. Yeah, that's why. Damn it! It's doing it already. Sorry, I know you don't like it when I swear. I'm trying.

            THAT day. I've made it to that day. I don't see why people think it will be good for me to relive those moments. The first few days I couldn't help but do just that, but since writing these I've been able to stop.  I still remember it clearer than the water in my glass that morning, though.

            My phone vibrated against the table, and I snatched it, aware that your message would be coming in any time. You guys were supposed to land over an hour ago. Relief flooded my veins as your name showed on the screen along with a short little message.

            Turd Monkey: Just landed, but we were delayed at the layover so now we're late. Call you when I can! Love you ;)

            I smiled, taking another drink of my water and studying the glass. Typing in a quick reply, I finished my lunch.

            Everything was well.

            That is, until everything was hell.

            The phone rang, and I didn't recognize the number, so I left it for the message machine since everyone else was out. Your mom had been a bit down since you left, so mine took her out for some therapeutic shopping or whatever. The messenger beeped, and an official voice started, almost so perfect it could have been a recording. To this day and forever I shall wonder how someone can lack so much emotion.

            "Dear Jones family. We are calling concerning a patient, Ashton Fletcher Irwin. Please return this call at your earliest convenience."

            The recorder clicked, and I didn't move. The flashing light on the phone taunted me. With each new fleck of light, my heartbeat grew from nothing to nonstop. My fingers shaking, I picked up the phone, hitting call back before I could second guess myself.

            It rang four times, and each time I wanted to throw it against a wall and run up stairs to curl up under my blankets. You were hurt, bad. That's all I knew, and it was too much. They wouldn't call all the way back here and use emergency contacts unless it was something terrible.

            "Hello, how may I help you?"

            "Um," I swallowed what felt like a wad of cotton balls in my throat, but they only lodged in my chest. "I am calling concerning a patient, As-"

            "Please wait on hold," the lady said, elevator music clicking on. Normally when on hold, I would have set the phone down on speaker and done something else, but this time I stayed, gripping it with both hands, listening for the slightest sound of her return. The clock ticked by in my other ear.

            "Yes, how may I help you?"

            "I am calling concerning a patient, Ashton Fletcher Irwin."