“He pushed you down a hill?!” Faye shouted into the phone. The moment I’d returned from my interaction with Tristan, I’d called her. I needed my best friend to tell me that no matter what, I was right and Tristan was wrong.

Even if I had called him a monster.

“Well, not exactly. He yelled at me, and I kind of tripped.”

“After he kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh. I hate him. I hate him so much.”

I nodded. “I hate him too.”

That was a lie, but I couldn’t tell her my true thoughts about Tristan. About how he and I had so much in common. I couldn’t tell anyone. I hardly even told myself.

“But since we are on the subject, tell me…” Faye said, and I could almost see her grin through the phone. “Did he use tongue? Did he growl? Was he shirtless? Did he motorboat you? Did you touch his abs? Did you lick his sharp jaw? Is he the size of a horse? Did you giddy up? Did you find his Nemo? Did you Grace his Frankie? Did you Justin his Timberlake?”

“I can’t handle you.” I chuckled, but my mind was still thinking about the kiss and what it meant. Maybe it meant nothing. Or perhaps, everything.

She sighed. “Come on, give me something. I’m currently trying to get laid here, and this phone call is killing my vibe.”

“What do you mean you’re trying to get laid?” I gasped. “Faye, are you having sex right now?”

“What do you mean? Like, sex-sex?”

“Yes, sex-sex!”

“Well, if you mean is there a penis currently sitting in my vagina, then yes. I guess you could semi call that sex.”

“Oh my God, Faye! Why the hell would you answer the phone?!”

“Um, because chicks before dicks? Like, literally.” She laughed. I gagged.

“Hi, Liz,” I heard Matty call from the background. Gag again. “I put you on the work schedule for thirty hours next week.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“What? No. I have plenty of time right now.”

“You’re disturbing.”

“Ow, stop, Matty. I told you not to bite that.” Oh my fucking gosh, my best friend was a freak. “Okay, babycakes, I gotta get going. I think I’m bleeding. But as for you, at least find some time to meditate and clear your head.”

“And by meditate you mean…?”

“Tequila. Top-shelf, burns in the belly, aids in bad decisions, tequila.”

That sounded about right.

Chapter Eleven

Tristan

April 3rd, 2014

Four Days Until Goodbye

I stood on my parents’ back porch staring at the pouring rain hammering against the swing set Dad and I had built for Charlie. The tire swing swayed back and forth against the wooden frame.

“How are you holding up?” Dad asked, walking outside to join me. Zeus followed behind him and found a place to sit and stay dry in the corner. I turned to Dad and stared at a face that resembled mine in almost every way, except that there were a few more years of age and wisdom in his eyes.

I didn’t reply to his question, but turned back to the rain.

“Your mom said you were having trouble writing the obituaries?” he asked. “I can help.”

“I don’t need your help,” I growled lightly, my fingers forming fists, my nails digging into my palms. I hated how angry I felt each passing day. I hated how I blamed the people around me for the accident. I hated that I was becoming colder each passing moment. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Son.” He sighed, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I pulled away. “I just want to be alone.”

His head lowered, and he ran his fingers across the back of his neck. “Okay. Mom and I will be inside.” A second later he turned away and opened the screen door. “But, Tristan, just because you want to be alone, doesn’t mean you are alone. Remember that. We are always here when you need us.”

I listened to the screen door slam and huffed at his words.

We are always here when you need us.

The truth of the matter was ‘always’ had an expiration date.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the piece of paper I’d spent the past three hours staring at. I’d finished Jamie’s obituary early that morning, but Charlie’s was still blank in my hand, with only his name attached to it.

How was I supposed to do it? How was I supposed to write his life story when his life hadn’t even had a chance to begin?

The rain began to slam against the paper and tears climbed into my eyes. I blinked a few times before shoving the paper back into my pocket.

I wouldn’t cry.

Fuck the tears.

My feet led me down the steps of the porch and within seconds I was soaked from head to toe, becoming a part of the dark storm that was brewing.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed to escape.

I needed to run.

I started running with no shoes, with no thought, and with no direction.

Zeus began to run behind me. “Go home, Zeus!” I shouted toward the dog, who was just as soaking wet as I was. “Go away!” I hollered, wanting to be left alone. I ran faster, but he kept up. I pushed so much that my chest burned and breathing became a chore. I ran until my legs quit and my body fell to the ground. Lightning struck above us, painting the sky with its scars, and I began to sob uncontrollably.

I wanted to be alone, but Zeus was right there. He’d kept up with my crazed mind, he was right beside me when I hit rock bottom, and he wasn’t going to leave me. He was in my face, giving me kisses, giving me love, giving me himself to hold when I needed someone the most.

“Okay.” I sighed, tears still falling as I held him close to me. He whimpered, almost as if he too was heartbroken. “Okay,” I said again, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his side.

Okay.

I loved to run barefoot.

Running was something I was good at.

I liked when my feet ran away.

I liked when they cracked and bled from the pressure they felt hammering against the concrete streets.

I liked when I was reminded of my sins through the pains of my body.

I love to hurt.

But only myself. I loved to hurt myself. No one else had to be hurt by me. I stayed away from people so I wouldn’t hurt them.

I’d hurt Elizabeth, and I didn’t want to.

I’m sorry.