Wrecked

“Sawyer.”

I stop and turn. “Yeah.”

“Give me a call when she . . . when Celia . . .” His lips curl between his teeth.

I nod and head back to get ready to leave. As soon as the movers show up I want to be in the first cab to the airport to be with my sister.

I only hope Aden can forgive me.





TWENTY-FIVE


ADEN

I’m shaking.

But I’m not in a dream, I’m actually shaking.

My eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete and peeling them open takes serious effort. My head is foggy and when I’m finally able to focus I see my uncle staring down at me.

“Wake up.” He slaps my face a couple times, making me groan.

The throbbing in my head won’t let up and my body is heavy as I push myself up from . . . wait. “Why am I on your couch?” I squint against the sun that pours in through the window. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” He grabs a mug off the table and hands it to me. “Coffee. Should help knock away the last of the pills.”

I take the mug and the memories of last night come flooding back. I pinch my eyes closed and shake my head as shame rips away the lingering effects of the drugs. “How’d I get here?” Last I remember I was wrapped in Celia’s arms.

Celia.

Will she ever forgive me for what I’ve done?

“I moved you over here early this morning.”

I peer up at him, squinting. “I walked?”

“With some assistance, yeah.”

I push to stand and set down the coffee. “I need to talk to Celia.” To beg her forgiveness, to swear I’ll do better, and hope that she understands.

As I reach for the door, Cal’s voice stops me. “She’s gone, son.”

I turn around to stare at my uncle, swearing this is some kind of joke. “She left?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods.

But . . . no, not like this. Not without saying goodbye. I’d planned to beg her to consider staying at least for a few more days. She can’t be gone.

I swing open the door and stumble-jog down the steps and into the crisp ocean air, grateful for the swift hit from the sun that wakens me a little more. I don’t knock, but throw open the door and find . . . nothing.

All the boxes are gone.

I race to the bedroom and as if last night were just a dream I find it empty. No bed. Nothing.

The kitchen counter is also void of anything that would give away that someone lived here just a handful of hours ago. The only thing that still lingers is the sweet scent of her skin that hangs in the air. I grasp onto that to stay sane because I know she was real and that the last ten days weren’t a hallucination.

I hear Cal’s footsteps cross the threshold and with my back to him I ask, “Did she leave anything for me?” A note? A goodbye? Anything?

“No.”

I sigh heavily and nod. “Right.” Because I’m a fucking nutcase. Ruined beyond repair. And so unworthy of her it’s not even fucking funny. I could tell her these things one thousand times and she’d never believe me, but last night I proved it.

“I’m going fishing.” I storm past Cal grateful to feel my keys in my pocket. Sooner I get out to sea the sooner I’ll be able to shake this disgusting feeling that’s tumbling around my gut.

“Aden, I’ll come with you—”

“I need to be alone.” I freeze and look up to Cal standing on the top step of Celia’s porch. “I’m really sorry about last night. Thank you for . . .” I swallow my pride and the lump forming in my throat. “Intervening.”

He nods, and I see the worry flashing in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, ya hear?”

I turn and storm off and head right for the boat.

What he really means is don’t die.

He doesn’t get that I’ve tried, but this fucked-up life won’t give me up.

SAWYER

Walking down the cold hallway of the hospital sends chills through me as I drag my rolling suitcase to my sister’s room. My flip-flops slap against the linoleum to the beat of my heart.

It was nearly impossible to walk away from the cottages this morning without seeing Aden one last time. All the lights in Cal’s place were off and I hoped that Aden was sleeping well and dreaming of something other than war. I hoped he was dreaming of me.

“Sawyer!” The sound of my mom’s voice comes from a small waiting room outside a cluster of hospital rooms.

I let go of my bag just in time for her to crash into my arms.

“Thank God you’re here.” She pulls back and I can see these last few days have taken a toll on her. The dark circles around her eyes and frazzled hair show the signs of little sleep and a lot of worry.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s with Cece.” She takes my hand and I grab my bag as she leads me back to a room.

The lights are off but the hallway lights shine in enough for me to see her there. Machines beep softly and the unsteady rise and fall of her chest also has me fighting to take a full breath.

My dad peeks up from his position at her bedside and although he smiles it’s grim.

“How is she?” I move to her and she has an oxygen mask on and wires coming from her chest.

“It’s not good, honey,” my mom whispers.

I nod, expecting the heat of tears or the slice of pain, but feel nothing. Numb. As if none of this is real.

“Can she hear us?”

My dad nods and gives up his seat, motioning for me to sit with her. “She’s in and out. When she’s here it’s short, but she seems to understand.”

I drop into the seat and stare at my sister, unable to take my eyes off her for a second out of fear that I’ll miss a twitch that clues me in that she’s still with us.

“Amazing . . .” my mom whispers.

“It’s remarkable,” my dad’s rumbled voice says next.

I look up at them. “What?”

My mom is tucked under my dad’s arm and even though we’re surrounding my sister in what could be her final moments of life they’re both smiling softly at me. “You look so much like Celia right now.”

“I’ve always been able to tell you two apart, ever since you were babies, but right now . . .” My mom’s lip shakes. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were her.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know why but it feels like the best compliment I’ve ever received.

For the next few hours I sit in silence with my sister. My parents head home to grab a shower and some food and I share with Celia about my time in San Diego. I tell her about Brice and Zo?, about my brush with a shark, and the kind words Cal had for her. But mostly, I talk about Aden. His smile, his jokes, how he could be obnoxious and how much I’ll miss him. I expect reliving the memories to make me sad but as I talk I find myself smiling as warmth fills my chest.

The doctors and specialists come in to check her vitals and with somber expressions they explain it’s only a matter of time. The word hospice is tossed around and because I’m unable to comprehend what it all means I simply nod.

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