Elise
The day he went fishing with Dad was a beautiful one. The sun was bright, the heat not as heavy as it had been in recent weeks. Mom was tackling on overtime at the police station, and I was pacing the floors of our house, hands clasped, and my stomach swirling with knots. This was it. We were doing it. We were going to come out on the other side together, no matter what.
I went to the bathroom that many times. The anxiety was unbearable.
I tried to read a book. Then I flicked through the channels on the television. Then I tried to busy myself by cooking.
Nothing worked. I couldn’t focus when all I could think about was Aston and Dad and whether he had told him by now. I knew it was unlikely, though. Aston said he’d let him know after they’d fished. He wanted it face to face at a table. He already had a restaurant in mind.
I clock-watched and paced. Clock-watched and paced. When I heard the front door open, I nearly threw up as I hesitantly moved to the hallway. My nerves died down when I saw Mom coming through the door, exhausted eyes twinkling when they met mine. “Hey, darling,” she said, setting her purse down on the entrance table. “How are we today?”
I just nodded. “Good.”
She must have sensed my mood was off. She paused and looked me over. I was still in my pj shorts and tank top. My hair hadn’t been combed. I hadn’t a lick of make-up on my face, and I was pretty sure I was paler than usual.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, concerned.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
She ignored my sarcasm. “The boys are still out?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll just be you and me for dinner, then.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She frowned. “What have you eaten?”
“I’m just not hungry, Mom.”
She watched me carefully as I raced past her and up the stairs, out of view. She was too intuitive, that woman. I’d purposely dodged spending time with her, fearing she would find us out. I wouldn’t need to dodge her any longer, I reminded myself.
The hours passed slowly. The day turned to night. I stared out the window, waiting for the headlights of our truck to come into view. Then I glanced at the time. 8pm.
What the hell was taking them so long? This was a bad sign, wasn’t it? I tried to picture Dad hollering at Aston in the middle of the restaurant over what we’d done, but that wasn’t him. Dad didn’t have it in him to upset Aston. He’d never been given a reason to. Until perhaps now…
I lay in bed, exhausted from all this worrying. I shut my eyes, opting for sleep just to pass the time. I dozed until the house phone rang. Then I opened my eyes and listened to Mom picking up the call. Her voice started off quiet, and then she was screaming.
“Elise!”
My heart lurched in my chest. I jumped out of bed and ran out of the bedroom. She was hollering my name over and over again, and when I got to the bottom of the staircase, she had her keys in her hand. She looked at me, and I felt startled by the panic on her face.
“We have to go,” she anxiously said. “Your father and Aston are in the hospital.”
*
I demanded answers during the car ride, but she didn’t speak a word. She’d already started shutting down, her face blank, her hand tight on the steering wheel as she sped across town to the hospital. It was a ten-minute drive because of all the goddamn red lights. It was the longest ten-minute drive of my life.
My mind raced with questions. Was it a car accident? Was Aston in one piece? It couldn’t be bad. Everything was going to be okay, right? It had to be. Life had only just started coming together for us. It couldn’t throw a dent in it now.
I prayed. I prayed so hard, looking out that window and up at the night sky. Please, let everything be okay. Please.
By the time we turned into the parking lot, my heart was in my throat. Mom jumped out and pulled out change from her pocket. We strode quickly to the entrance of the hospital. I felt so fucking annoyed when she stopped to pay for parking. I didn’t care if our car was towed, goddammit! We needed to go in now! I openly fumed at her as she took her time, her face still void of emotion. She was scared, I realized. She didn’t want to face reality, but we had to.
“Mom,” I said urgently, “we have to go.”
When she wouldn’t move, I took her by the arm and told her we were doing this together. Then I forced her through the ER doors and to the waiting room.
I didn’t realize the level of concern I should have been having until I saw Aston seated there, in the front row, with Adrian by his side in his police uniform.
He had a hand on Aston’s back, patting him. Why was he reassuring him? What was so bad to warrant pats on the back?
As we neared, I felt everything inside of me crumble. Tears sprang to my eyes, a gasp left my throat, and I nearly fell to the ground right there and then.
Aston was covered in blood, and it wasn’t his own.
I felt like the world was spinning. Adrian saw us. He got up and slowly approached us, looking directly at my mother with sympathetic eyes. My gaze locked on Aston. I walked past them, inching nearer, hearing the words, “he tried to stop a fight” and “he got shot” in the same sentence.
I fell on the chair next to Aston, my body turned to him. I grabbed his hand. He was oddly cold. He was never cold. He turned his head to me just barely, and the pain I saw in them pierced me to the bone.
My lips quivered as I whispered, “Aston.”
He just shook his head, unable to tear his gaze away from me. “Everyone I love always leaves me,” he said raggedly, choking back on a sob.
Tears fell from my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. “It’ll be alright.”
He didn’t believe me.
He was right to.
*
Dad was pronounced dead one hour later at 9:17pm. The second the doctor broke it to us was the second my whole world ripped apart before my eyes. It was hot all of a sudden. My heart fluttered and raced, and my brain was working hard to catch up.
Dead.
My father was dead.
How did this happen? Why did this happen? Who let this happen?
He’d been perfectly fine this morning. He’d been smiling, squeezing Aston’s shoulders while he talked about their boring fishing adventures. Then he invited me along, a gesture he knew I wouldn’t take, and he was right. I didn’t take it. Why didn’t I take it? I wished I had.
He’d said good night to me last night, and he’d called me his butterfly. I’d rolled my eyes at the name because I was too old for that shit. Call me a butterfly again, Dad. I’ll do anything to hear it.
Now he was dead.
I’d taken every moment for granted, believing there would always be a never ending supply of “good night, butterfly”.
Aston collapsed to the floor. It was that sudden movement that pulled me out of my stupor. I leaned over him, hugging his back as he broke down. Tears fell from my eyes, but only lightly. I was in shock, and Mom had distanced herself from us, falling into the chair in a dazed heap, staring at nothing.
It was a messy scene. I was holding on to a broken man as he lay in ruins, trying to keep him together, and my mother was nowhere near us for emotional support. I reached my hand out to her, but she didn’t take it. I felt like Sticky Tack, trying to keep things together but failing miserably as the weight of our loss broke through the links that bound us.
“Mom,” I choked out. “Please.”
She wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t fucking move and I just wanted to mourn! I needed her strength. I needed her arms around mine as I held Aston to me, and she wouldn’t give it to me.
When I saw Adrian wrap his arm around her, I focused back on Aston. I hugged him tight, and leaned my face between his shoulder and neck, whispering in his ear, “I know. I know. It’s okay. I’m here, Aston. I’m here.”
He shook so violently. He’d come apart at the seams, and I was helpless. I couldn’t make him feel better, so I let him weep there, and I bottled my grief to be the strength he needed.