There was nothing unusual about the morning. The sky was a pasty blue and most of the front lawns in the neighborhood were a frazzled brown from a long, dry summer. My head was aching from the long night of music, beer and all of the usual bullshit that went with the end of summer party. Only last night's party would stay with me forever.

I went home feeling numb from it all. It was just a kiss, but as Rebecca walked away, I was falling apart inside. Deep down, I knew that for me it had always been Rebecca. But that didn't matter. None of it mattered. I had to ignore that voice inside of me. I had to ignore those nerve pulses that went off every time Rebecca stepped into a room or talked to me or even glanced my direction.

Emily walked out of the house with her last bag. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her. My eyes flicked to the screen door on the front porch once more as I pushed Emily's bag into the trunk. There was no sign of Rebecca.

Emily stood and waited for me to close the trunk, so I could circle to the passenger's side and open the door for her. I stopped and looked back at the house one last time. I briefly wondered if Rebecca was still sleeping, tired from the long night and too much beer. I wondered if she was wearing the t-shirt. I wondered if she was thinking about the kiss, like I had been all damn night and morning.

"Aren't you going to say good-bye to everyone?"

Emily pulled her dark sunglasses down from her head to cover her eyes before she looked at me. I was thankful for the opaque, black lenses. Somehow it was easier to live with myself if I didn't have to look directly into her eyes.

"I've said my good-byes. Besides, I'm close by. Remember? I stayed in town because of us?"

For the rest of her life, I was going to be the person who'd made her miss out on an exciting out-of-state education. I didn't bother to respond because we'd already beat this particular dead horse to death a hundred times.

I opened the door and shut it hard enough to rattle the window.

We drove in silence toward the freeway on ramp. I pushed it into fifth gear and headed across the lanes to the fast lane. The last thing I wanted was to sit through a long, moody car ride. There were a hundred things I needed to tell her, but I started with the stupidest of all.

"Em, we don't need to keep this going."

I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead, knowing eye contact was only going to make this harder. It was something I had needed to say all damn summer. And it had nothing to do with Rebecca. Or at least I was sticking with that because my conscience wouldn't let me stray into the muddy waters that seemed to be rising higher and higher around me.

"I'm not following," she said innocently, which was bullshit because she was one of the smartest people I knew.

"You're going off to college, and I'm going on tour with a band."

"I'm not a freshman. It's hardly the first time I've gone off to college." She was purposely ignoring my point. She grabbed her purse and pulled out the lavender scented lotion she always slathered on her hands.

"Yes, it's not the first time. But every damn time you leave, you remind me that you picked the college because of me. Obviously I've been holding you back in life, and maybe you've been holding me back too." I stopped and waited for the response, knowing full well that I'd just dropped a major bomb on her.

"I haven't held you back. It's those loser friends of yours that held you back." The car filled with the heavy floral scent of her moisturizer as she brusquely rubbed it not just on her hands but all over her arms.

"Don't you feel it?" The car shifted over the dots between the lanes as I turned to look at her. I pulled the car back into its lane, and as I shifted my face back to the road, I spotted the big chrome truck bumper in my rearview. I only needed a glimpse of the driver to know he was an asshole. The whole damn drive was making me grip the steering wheel as if my life depended on it.

"Feel what?" she asked lightly, knowing full well what I meant. "You're just in that weird mood again where I don't understand a damn thing you're saying. Did you smoke a joint before you came over?"

"What? Fuck. No, I didn't smoke a joint. You don't feel like things are coming apart? It's like we're just going through the motions because everybody else expects us to be together. It's as if we got stuck in this mold, and we can't break out." My eyes lifted to the rearview. Asshole in big truck was so close I could just about count his fucking nose hairs.

A lost and confused motor home driver had decided ten miles under the limit was the perfect rate of speed for the fast lane, and he was clueless about the line of cars behind him. I moved into the next lane, managing to avoid eye contact with Emily as I checked for cars. She continued with her lotion, spreading it along her legs. The overwhelming fragrance made my head hurt more. I rolled down the window.

Emily huffed angrily as she reached up to tie her hair in a knot at her neck. "Why are you opening the window?"

"Because you are slathering that shit on like butter on a Thanksgiving turkey."

"You used to like the smell of it. I guess everything about me repels you." She sat back and screwed the cap on. Her upper lip was quivering, which meant she was either angry or about to cry. Might have been both.

"That's just silly, Em. You know how important you are to me. It's just—"

Her phone beeped.

"Just leave it for a second," I said, feeling more frustrated with each passing moment.

She ignored me and leaned down to find the phone in her oversized purse.

Asshole in big truck gave up on the fast lane. He swooped in behind me and pressed his silver chrome bumper close to mine.

I put my arm outside, smacked the side of my car and leaned my head out. "Get the fuck off of my tail, asshole!"

I pulled my head back inside, waiting for a lecture about road rage from Emily. But she was staring at her phone. The lip quiver had slowed, but her face was smooth and pale. She looked at me.

From behind, I could hear tires screech as the asshole finally got the hint to go around me.

"Em? What's wrong?"

"Mindy just texted me." Her voice was weak, and the quiver came back to her lips. "You kissed Rebecca?"

My mouth dropped open but before I could find the right words, the silver paint on the asshole’s truck blinded me as he swept past the passenger window. My throat went dry. It took me a second to convince myself the gun barrel pointing our direction was real.

"Em!" I pushed her head down.

The asshole's face turned back toward my tire and the gun followed. Oddly, I thought about how it was the first time I'd ever heard a gun being fired. The explosion that followed was my tire. I took my foot off the gas as my car spun out of control.

The cloud of lavender was tinged with burnt rubber as I tried to gain control of my wildly out of control car. My foot was no longer on the gas. The rear end fishtailed around, and the world outside blurred as I steered into it. Then, out of nowhere, like a big ambling rusty edged monster, the motor home rolled toward the passenger side. I reached for Emily, thinking somehow I could stop her from being hurt. Her scream felt like shards of glass cutting through me. I yelled out as my hand was twisted and turned and crushed. My head smacked sharply against the side window and blackness swallowed me.

* * *

My pillow felt unusually hard and my bedroom was filled with strange voices and blinking lights as I opened my eyes. A searing pain shot up my arm. It seemed to come from my hand but I couldn't actually feel my hand. I had fallen asleep on it during my bad dream.

"Sir, we are going to cut you out of there now."

My head cleared just enough for me to comprehend that I was not in my bedroom. I looked around at the terrified faces staring in through the broken glass at me. Where the hell was I? I pushed up from the odd angle I was sitting and I found myself tangled in a white puffy parachute. The airbag. It was my airbag. The nightmare crept back in tiny bits. The argument. The asshole in the truck. The gun. The motor home.

My neck was stiff, and I could barely move my head. "Fuuck," I groaned.

Without lifting my head from my seat, I reached over to the passenger seat for Emily. But nothing felt right. I rolled my head over. The seat was gone and the side of my car had been carved away. My hand was draped across the console, only I wasn't completely sure it was my hand or if it was a hand at all. It was a mangled mass of flesh, bone and blood.

The jarring sound of metal being cut brought me more to my senses. "Where's Emily?" I asked the fireman keeping an eye on me. "Where's my girlfriend?"

"Let's just worry about getting you out of there first. What's your name?"

"It's Josh. And my girlfriend is Emily. Is she all right? Did they already take her to the hospital?" The side panel of my car was lifted away, and two paramedics helped me out of the car. My knees collapsed but I caught myself. A paramedic immediately wrapped a large towel around my hand, more, it seemed, to shield it from view than anything.

They rolled the gurney up to the car. I was still having a hard time believing the scene around me. Cars were stopped for miles back on the freeway. The motor home now hobbled by its injuries had been pushed into the emergency lane. The driver and his wife, an elderly couple, looked so shaken, it seemed they might not recuperate. Red emergency vehicles were parked in every free section along the emergency lane. I couldn't see Emily. I hoped she was already on her way to the hospital.

"The truck," I said to the paramedic as I sat on the gurney. "It was a silver pick-up truck. The guy shot out my tire."

"Yes, the witnesses have already reported the entire incident to the police. They've already arrested the man."

"Where's Emily? Is she on her way to the hospital? I should be with her." And then more of the last minutes came back to me. She had gotten a text just before the accident. She knew about the kiss. "I need to see my girlfriend, please."

The two paramedics exchanged worried glances. The expressions on their faces sent a cold chill through my blood.

"What the fuck is going on?" I twisted around to get a better look at the scene.

"Josh, please sit still so we can help you."

Before they could stop me, I hopped off the gurney. "Just fucking need to see Emily." I gripped my towel wrapped hand against me. Some of the feeling was coming back, and it felt as if sharp spears were being thrown at it from every direction.

The paramedics followed after me. "Sir, if we could just get you to sit on the gurney."

Their voices faded into the distance. Everything disappeared except the gurney sitting in the back of the ambulance. The gurney that was draped with white sheets.

"A little help here," I heard a paramedic call as he tried to take as gentle hold of me as possible.

Two police officers joined him in their effort to corral me. I pushed against them as they tried to shield me from running to the ambulance. "Is that her? Is that Emily? Fucking tell me! Is that Emily?"

Onlookers covered their faces and looked away to hide what they already knew.

"Somebody fucking answer me!"

The police officer who had a grip on my good arm lifted his sunglasses and looked me right in the eye. This was something he'd done before. This wasn't new to him. "I'm very sorry, your girlfriend was pronounced dead at the scene."

The words circled my throbbing head, but I couldn't let them in. If I did, then they'd be true and Emily would be gone. And that was impossible. That was fucking impossible.

"Let's get you back to the gurney," I heard someone say, but I couldn't tell which direction the voice came from. I had no sense of direction. Up and down seemed to be switching places like a teeter totter. My head was light and my gut was heavy as if someone had opened my mouth and dropped in stones.

Emily was gone and the last few minutes together were the worst of our entire relationship. And the kiss. The betrayal went with her.

And then the weight of those invisible, heavy stones sank down lower in my stomach and took me down to my knees.