I struggled through the stupid, insane, trying process of hauling my ass down a concourse and into a fucking subway to get to the terminal (who ever heard of such ridiculousness, you had to get somewhere, you got there, you didn’t need then to get on a fucking train in the fucking ground, hours in the air then you’re underground? Insane!) then that fucking train expelled me and what had to be seven thousand other people, I jockeyed for position with them to get to the fucking escalators, I finally got to the terminal and there was Julius and a very beautiful, slim, elegant but highly accessorized (and all of her accessories were pure gold) black woman.
He enfolded me in a hug and informed me gently that Ty was holding on. Then she (her name was Anana) enfolded me in a hug then we waited what felt like a year for my big bag, the only one I had so the one I had to use, to come out at baggage claim and then they led me out to Ty’s Cruiser.
I nearly lost it the minute I saw Ty’s car, a car we bought together, a car that, upon seeing, irrationally I had the thought I could not set my ass in because it wasn’t his, somehow it was ours and I couldn’t deal with a reminder of what used to be the beauty of us, an us I threw away. I had to get away from it, run, find a way to go back in time and make the right decision, turn in Ty’s arms on the beach, put mine around him and accept back into my life the us he came all the way to Florida to give back to me.
But both of them saw me losing it and took control, getting me in, getting me buckled and getting us on our way.
Shortly after, I hit a fog then shortly after that, I hit understanding – pure and undiluted.
What the fuck was I doing?
If Ty lived for me to see him die, he was still going to fucking die.
My tall, beautiful Ty with his amazing curly, thick lashed, light brown eyes and his fantastic tattoos and his defined muscles and his deep voice calling me “baby” and “mama” was going to die.
What did it matter if I saw him breathe again before he did it?
What did anything matter?
God, why couldn’t I have done it even when I tried? Why couldn’t I have found my way to nothing mattering before Lady Luck, the stupid fucking bitch, took my fucking Ty?
So I shut down because it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Not anymore.
Except I’d be there for the funeral.
So, shut down, I didn’t notice it until Julius had already hit the garage door opener to the condo, the door was up and he was pulling in.
Seeing the Snake hit my eyes as we slid in beside her, a new slice traced though the ragged edges of raw leaving agony in its wake and my head, resting on the window, came up.
And I was so out of it, my mind so saturated with sorrow nothing penetrated, it didn’t occur to me that there was the Viper, right there, shining, in one piece, without even a scratch.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Need to get somethin’,” Julius mumbled.
I looked around, confused.
All this rush, me flying three quarters of a continent to get to Ty’s bedside in order to perform my wifely death vigil and we were making a pit stop at Ty’s house?
“Julius, I don’t mean to sound…” I paused, “but… I…” I hesitated then pulled it together when he turned and looked through the seats at me. “I’d really like to get to Ty,” I finished on a whisper.
His eyes went out the side window and he looked at something. Then he looked at Anana. Then he looked at me.
Then, “I won’t be a second,” was his totally fucking unhinged reply.
I gawked at him.
He threw open his door and folded out of the car.
Anana spoke, “Honey, why don’t you go on up with Julius? You gotta use the bathroom?”
Actually, I did.
So, since we were making this fucking ridiculous stop to do whatever the fuck Julius had to do while my husband was dying somewhere close, I’d use this time to visit the bathroom. And during that time, I’d convince myself, after I watched my husband die, the husband I let go, the husband who tracked me down in order to try to win me back, the husband I told to go away, the husband who, the last thing he heard from me was me calling us a nightmare, after I watched that husband die, while I was taking a bathroom break before that happened, I’d convince myself I wouldn’t fucking kill Julius.
“Yeah, be back,” I muttered, threw open the door, got out and hustled to the door to the utility room, hoping to all that was holy Julius was hustling his tall, massive ass too.
Through the door to the stairs and up them, I saw Julius was standing a few feet from the opening at the top of the stairs and my eyes narrowed on his back as I alighted the stairs and they did this because he was not hustling.
And I heard him say, “Later, you’ll get this was the only play I had to make.”
I hit the top of the stairs, took three steps in, my eyes unnarrowed and my body froze solid when my eyes hit Ty standing five feet in front of Julius.
Vaguely, I noticed he was frozen solid too; his eyes on me like my eyes were on him.
Well, maybe not the same because I was sure my eyes communicated total, complete, body-rocking, earth-shattering shock that he was standing, breathing, in one piece, wearing faded jeans, a skintight white tee, looking as gorgeous as always and very, very, very healthy.
Healthy.
Alive.
Standing.
Gorgeous.
In one piece.
Breathing.
Ty.
“And baby doll,” I heard Julius say but didn’t tear my eyes from Ty, “you give it time, beautiful, you’ll get it too that this was the only play I had to make.”