Just A Walk In Central Park

Chapter 1; how it came to be

 I believe that when you’re dying, you relive every bad and good thing that happen in your lifetime, whether you lived for 7 years, or 70. My darling lived 24 years. I believe she saw all the good that happen with the two of us, with her brother, with her best friends. I also believe she saw all the fights we ever got into with each other, when her mother died giving birth to her brother, when almost everyone she loved left. Even though she may have seen the good, I cannot imagine seeing those good things right before your death because if it were me, I’d want more. More good times. She deserved more good times. I would’ve given her more good times, but I also know that I’d giver her bad times, which makes me hate myself. But I’m not perfect I know, because if I was,  if I were, she’d be here with me tonight.

The night of the crash, was one of our bad nights. The crash was my fault.

I stumbled into the house half drunk like I had been doing for quite sometime. I don’t know why I got into the excessive drinking so sudden, but I did. I wish I did know though. I walked into our bedroom and took off my jeans and shirt. I didn’t bother brushing my teeth because I was so exhausted, due to lack of sleep and working 9-5, 5 days a week. I slipped into bed, but she turned on her bedside lamp before I could hit the pillow. She sighed loudly and walked out of the room and into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, and assumed I should get up and make my way to her. She was leaned up against the sink, with a bottle of juice in her hand. She looked beautiful standing there even when she looked at me with a hard, angry expression.

 

“I’m sorry, Lo. I don’t have a good excuse, I wish I did.” I said to her. I had sobered up a little, the cab driver stopped at a service station for gas, and I got out to get a bottled water.

 

“What happen, Will?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Have I become too boring for you?”

 

“I- What? No!”

 

“Is this all a cry for help?” She asked, her voice softening.

 

“Help? I don’t need your help. Or anyones.” I said sternly.

 

“Then go ahead, explain. Please.” She replied with the same tone I gave her.

 

“I like the taste.” Was all I could think to say.

 

“The taste? Of hard liquor? Since when?” She said with such irritation, that it irritated me.

 

“I don’t know.” I replied simply.

 

And then she got beyond pissed.  “You’re not 21 anymore, William! You can’t be going out on Friday nights and drink until you can’t even walk (tonight is better though), and leave me here to worry till you stumble in at 2:30 in the morning. You’re 26, act like it! You may be having a baby and you will n-”

 

A baby?  “Did you say having a baby?” I asked her.

 

She sighed loudly, and sat down on the counter. “Yeah. But it’s not for sure. Pregnancy test are rarely accurate. It’s okay though, don’t get worked up about it." She always told me not to get worked up, when she knows damn well I should get worked up. "I’m going to spend the night with Lauren tonight. Call me when you’re sober and acting like you give two fucks.” She kissed my cheek and hugged me softly and whispered “I love William . Not this jackass. Get it together or I’m done.”

I told her I loved her and that I’d try. I didn’t stop her, and that makes me so angry. That was the last time I saw her whole. Her face, her body, without fault, without a bruise or scratch.

 

I saw her once after that, to identify her body. She had a black eye and a busted lip and her hair was matted with dry blood.

They asked me how I could know it was her, I told them “She has the most beautiful eyes you will ever see. I love to look at them. They’re a weird beautiful, but still so beautiful. They're purple, with a gray ring...”  I tried to brag, but at that moment, I did not want to see those eyes that I always looked forward to seeing.. But I did have to know.

They slowly lifted her eyelid that wasn’t swollen shut, and I saw that gray ring. But they didn’t have her light behind them, which made it so difficult to identify. I stared, I don’t know how long, but I stared long enough for the officer to snap his finger in front of my face a good while till I looked away.

“I mean, you don’t see those kind of eyes everyday, but it doesn’t have her light behind them.. That’s where they really get you..” I started to drift off.

“Sir, is there anything else that could help us.. We know this is hard..” The chubby male officer said to me.

But they didn’t know. But I tried to help solve this terrible, heart-wrenching mystery for my sake, not theirs.

“She, uh, may’ve been pregnant.. I’m not sure that helps.. Uh, she had a birthmark on her inner thigh, but..” Before I could stop, one of the investigators lifted her leg and shined a flashlight over her naked body. 

I told her once I'll be the only one to ever see this, you got it? Then I'd do what she loved. 

I choked back a sob, and I put my head into my hands and let myself go. My body racked with sobs, and the female officer lightly pushed my body down so I could sit on floor. She rubbed my back. I swung at her and stood up and paced. I think they understood that it was her because the three investigators zipped up the bag that held her little, frail body and carried her away. I dropped on the cold floor and sobbed for long while.

I don’t remember much of that day, other than that. I do remember that I haven't taken a drink since that day, but I bought my first pack of cigarettes. 

I smoke at least 3 packs a day, they calm my nerves. I take a lot of breaks at work now, gives me something to look forward to, gets me through the day.