The Best is Yet to Come

Forty Seven: Emma

When I started therapy after the accident, one of the first things I noticed was the colorful chart Dr.Greene had tacked to his office wall to help younger kids express their feelings. There was a variety of emotions you could pick from, each with a corresponding facial expression. Sitting in the backseat of an Uber, the scent of Black Ice giving me a headache, I wished I had that chart in front of me now. My mind is a dizzy spiral of thoughts and feelings that cycled so fast I had a hard time pinpointing exactly how I felt. I was somewhere halfway between agony and astonishment, that was certain, but I couldn't help but want to sprinkle some pride into the mix, as well. There was a very prominent part of my subconscious bragging about how right I was. I knew I shouldn't have involved myself in this. I should have trusted my initial instincts with Noah and tried to avoid him at all costs. Lord knows, this is exactly why I stayed away from everyone in the first place.

Every relationship comes with an inevitable tie to pain, whether it be caused by choice or not. And yet, as awful as I feel, I can't avoid the waves of guilt threatening to tip me overboard. I knew I was being a baby. I had to bitterly remind myself that it could be worse. At least Noah wasn't dead. His smile would continue to shine on the world; it would just never belong to me.

I lean my forehead against the car window, the cool glass a welcomed relief, much like an ice pack on a fresh bruise. The thought of Noah's face has me clutching at my chest and it's the hollow ache near my heart that sucks me into a sick swirl of repressed memories. Because of this, I'm hyper aware of the ride back to my apartment. Every flash of a headlight makes me flinch, every turn makes me moan with motion sickness. Through each intersection, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe away the knots of fear twisting up my stomach.

I let out a sigh of relief when the car finally pulls up to the curb of a familiar brick building. Without saying anything, I slide out of the backseat, clutching my wallet to my chest. The street is dead silent, the sky a midnight black. It seemed that even the stars knew better than to shine tonight. I dart across the sidewalk, my clicking heels loud against the pavement, invading the silent void.

Stumbling through the front door and down the hall to my sanctuary, I unzip my wallet with shaking fingers. Reaching for my keys, I freeze, choking back bile at the sight of my balled-up underwear stuffed inside.

Grief. Familiar or not, it hit hard every time.

I screw my eyes shut and dig my fingers blindly underneath the laced fabric, feeling for the familiar shape of keys. My fingers turn icy and numb as I struggle with the lock and after dropping the keys twice, I bite my lip to hold back frustrated tears. For fucks sake, I will not have a breakdown in the hallway.

Mercifully, I manage to open the door and promptly slam it shut behind me, the hung paintings clattering against the wall from the force. I unstrap my heels, chucking them across the room with a sob. One collides against the wall above my dresser, the other nearly missing Oscar by a hair. He hisses wildly in my direction before seeking shelter underneath the bed. Using the back of the couch as an anchor, I slide to the floor and rest my elbows on my knees. I knead my forehead with my palms, trying to massage the memories of the library out of my brain. This is so goddamn embarrassing.

I hated to admit that Evelyn was right. There was no way Noah and I would ever work. In fact, she trusted me to be able to fuck up the relationship all on my own. She was just kindly offering her assistance if I happened to fail. While hateful and vindictive, I never claimed that Evelyn was a liar. Noah did deserve better than me and I was a fool to believe that I could ever have him.

I had started to hope... dream even of a life that Noah and I would share together. I didn't give in to fantasies very often and I think that's what made this so gut wrenching. The last flame of hope my heart would ever be able to muster was just extigued right in front of my eyes.