Out of Reach (12 page)

Emily

It had been two weeks since Andy’s death. Every day that passed was supposed to be easier. It wasn’t. I missed him so much, and I missed Seth, but the guilt I felt when I thought about Seth…it was too much.

My phone vibrated. I picked it up and saw another message from Seth—the tenth today¸ and it was only two in the afternoon. A wave of irritation rushed through me. Didn’t he get that I didn’t want to see him right now? I didn’t want to see anyone.

You don’t want to see me, and that’s fine, but I need to know you’re okay.

“I’ll be okay when you leave me alone,” I muttered, tossing the phone across the
bed
. I rolled over and pulled the covers up over me. Yeah, I was in bed. So what? So what if I’d spent a good part of the last two weeks in bed?

I snuggled up against his pillow. It still smelled like him. If I closed my eyes and imagined hard enough, it was almost like he was there with me. But he wasn’t. He was dead, and I was alone.

***

My eyes opened. It took me a moment to adjust to the darkness that surrounded me. Cold, I felt over my stomach and realized the covers had slipped off me. I moved over in the bed, over to his side, rearranging the blankets over me.

The clock stared back at me. 3:04.

Another day gone.

Something hard dug into my side. I reached underneath me and pulled out my phone. More messages, more missed calls—although this time from Seth and Deb.

Deb came around every day. She would bring food—which would usually end up in the trash—and sit with me. She didn’t try to make me talk, or get up, because she understood. Everything I was going through, she was going through too. Just having each other was a comfort on some level.

I pushed back the covers and stood up, the urge to pee too strong to ignore.

I should really shower.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. It was like I was stuck, frozen in this stage and I couldn’t move past it. I wasn’t eating, I didn’t get dressed. All I did was sleep.

Because in my dreams, he’s still with me.

Seth

I sat at my desk, staring at my laptop. I thought coming back to work would help me keep my mind of things. And for the most part, it did.
Until something reminded me of Andy.
And then I’d lose it. He’d been gone for three weeks and five days, and it had been almost as long since I’d seen Em. I hated how much my heart ached at the thought of her. Losing Andy had been hard enough; losing Em too was unbearable.

The soft rapping on my office door caught my attention. I looked up.
My boss, Ian, smiled at me sympathetically.
They had been surprisingly supportive of everything
—m
uch more so than I had expected.

“Are you sure you want to be here, Seth? I told you to take as much time as you needed.”

“Thanks, but I think I need the distraction, you know?”

Ian nodded. “If there’s anything we can do, let us know.” He smiled again before walking off.

Sighing, I reached for my phone, checking for a message that I knew wouldn’t be there. How was Em doing? She wouldn’t answer my texts or calls, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I got little bits of information from Deb, but even she was struggling to get through to her. I was so worried, but I had no idea what else to do.

After lunch, I walked back into my office and found a package on my desk. Picking the package up, my heart began to pound as I saw the handwriting. I didn’t need to check the return address to know it was from Andy.

I sat down, the package in front of me. When had he sent this? And why had it taken so long to reach me? It had been nearly four weeks since he’d died. I ran my fingers over the smooth wrapping, staring at his handwriting. It was heavier than a letter, but not much thicker.

What was it?

I swallowed. Maybe this was my way back into her life. A gift from Andy…she would have to see me for this. There was no way she couldn’t.

I picked up the phone and dialed Ian’s extension.

“Yes, Seth?”

“If it’s okay, I might take some time,” I said, hesitating.

“Of course it is. Just keep in touch, okay?”

***

I stood at her door, turning the package over in my hands. What if she still refused to see me?
She wasn’t doing well
,
I knew that from Deb
. I was so worried about her, and I felt so helpless. Taking a deep breath, I rapped on the door.

Nobody answered. I glanced around. I couldn’t imagine she would’ve gone anywhere. Deb said she wasn’t even getting out of bed. I knocked again.
Still no answer.
I lifted my arm and felt above the
door frame
for the spare key I knew Andy had left there. I sighed, relieved, as my fingers grasped the cold metal.

I walked inside. The apartment was quiet—quiet enough for me to wonder if she was even home, but from what Deb had told me, she hadn’t been leaving the house. I crept down the hallway to her room. My heart sank when I saw her.
Lying
in bed, asleep, her hair tangled and her face so pale.

I didn’t want to wake her on the off chance that she hadn’t been sleeping. I walked back out and sat down on the sofa, crossing my leg over my knee with the package in front of me.

No matter how ordinary she’d looked, just the sight of her had my heart racing. I’d wait all day for her if I had to.

Emily

I jumped as I walked into the living room and saw Seth sitting there. Instinctively, I tightened my robe as he looked up, his eyes meeting mine. It hurt so much seeing him, because seeing him made me remember. And I couldn’t. It hurt too much.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clearing my throat.

He picked up a neatly wrapped package that sat on the coffee table in front of him.

“I wanted to give you this. It arrived at work today.” He paused, glancing back up at me. “It’s from Andy.”

My eyes widened. I sank onto the sofa, feeling as though I’d been hit in the stomach. Seth held the package out to me. I took it, examining the writing on the front. His writing. My name.

With shaking hands I unwrapped the package, careful not to damage the scrawl of writing. Two things fell into my lap: a small pink box and a letter with ‘Read me first’ scrawled across the front. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I opened the letter.

Emsky,

Firstly, stop crying. I know you well enough to know that’s exactly what you’d be doing right now.
Smile because we got to spend some amazing years together, don’t
cry for what we missed out on.

From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the girl for me. Everything about you exuded confidence and excitement. I lost count of the number of times I fell asleep with your name on my lips, your smile in my memory.

The day you became mine was the best day of my life. I couldn’t believe that I had managed to snare you. I felt like I’d somehow fooled you into loving me, and that at any minute you’d realize how much better you could do than me. But you didn’t. For whatever insane reason, you were as into me as I was you.

Now I want you to open the box.

I set the letter down in my lap and reached for the box, wiping the tears from my eyes. A delicate white ribbon tied into a perfect bow sat on top of the glossy, light pink colored top. Taking hold of an end, I pulled until it unraveled and floated from my hands to the floor.

My hands shook as I lifted the lid. Inside sat a bracelet. Looped onto the fine silver band were a series of beautiful pink and silver charms. I examined each one, rolling them gently between my forefinger and thumb.

“Oh God,” I whispered, sobbing. The bracelet was the most precious thing I’d ever seen—even more so because it was from Andy. Holding it, I felt close to him.
He would’ve been the last person to touch these delicate little charms.

With the bracelet firmly grasped in my palm, I picked up the letter.

I hate the thought of us missing out on so much. There are so many things I wanted to experience with you. This is my way of playing a small part of that. Each charm represents a milestone in your life
—t
hings I so badly wish I could be there to experience with you: your wedding day, the birth of your first child.

In a small way, now I’ll be right there with you through each of these things. Please don’t be sad, Em. Think of all the wonderful times we had, and all the amazing things you still have to look forward to in your life. Most of
all,
let your heart love again. If that is the only thing you do for me, then I will have died happy.

You deserve everything in the world, Emsky. You cared for me every second of my illness. I never once felt alone, or afraid, with you by my side. You put me first, just as you have since the beginning. Now it’s time to put Emily first.

Love you forever,

Andy xx

I handed the letter to Seth and curled up on the sofa, the bracelet still balled up in my fist, my arms hugging my stomach. I missed him so much. Why did he have to write me that? I couldn’t do this without him.

“Em…” Seth knelt beside me. He pushed the hair from my face, his blue eyes filled with concern. “It’s okay, Em.” He put his arms around me and whispered in my ear over and over. But it wasn’t. It would never be okay.

“It’s not okay,” I cried, pushing him away. “He’s gone and I can’t love you, no matter how much I want to. I just can’t! Everything about you makes me think of him,” I sobbed.

His hands gripped my wrists firmly as he fought me. Loving Seth meant forgetting Andy. Guilt tore through me as I began to hyperventilate.

“Calm down, Em,” he ordered, his voice thick with emotion. He held me to his chest. “Breathe. Forget about everything and just focus on breathing. Everything will be okay.”

How could he be so calm? How was he always so in control? I so badly wanted to be with him, but it couldn’t…I just couldn’t…

“Do you love me, Em?”

“It doesn’t matter!” I jerked away from him. Why didn’t he get it? “We can never happen. The memory of him will always be there, lurking in the background, as a reminder of how selfish and greedy I am.”

“Selfish?” he laughed. “You devoted your life to caring for him, Em. How is that selfish?”

I breathed in sharply as his fingers pushed my hair from my eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one,” I muttered.

“Do you love me?” he whispered.

“How can you ask me that after we just buried him?” I cried.

“Because it’s what he would want me to do, Em. He loved—loves you more than anything. Knowing you’re going to be okay is the only thing that mattered to him. Your happiness was all he ever cared about. Even when he realized he couldn’t make you happy anymore.”

“How can I ever be happy again?” I whispered.

He pulled me into his arms as I cried, stroking my hair.

Emily

Seth glanced my way and squeezed my hand. I smiled at him. We were on our way back to the beach house. It was the place I felt closest to Andy, and right then that was what I needed. Once again, Seth had dropped everything for me. I felt like I was the only thing that mattered in his eyes and that was something I could never repay him for.

Having Seth back in my life didn’t make dealing with the loss of Andy any easier, but having someone by my side, that felt my pain, did help. In his own way, I could see Seth was suffering too. It was so easy to trap myself away in my little bubble, believing that nobody else was as affected as I was. But that wasn’t true: Andy’s death had hurt lots of people, and people dealt with things differently.

With my head leaning against the window, I began reading. Every day I read through each page, some days two or three times. I was so desperate to feel closer to him and I felt like my memories—and now my bracelet—were the only ways I could do that.

October 2005.
First sexual experience.

I crawled onto Andy’s bed carefully, not wanting to hurt him. He chuckled and shook his head, his dark eyes sparkling at me.

“I’m not going to break, Em,” he said.

“I know. I just don’t want to hurt you.” I kneeled over him, one leg on either side of his waist. He grinned, his hands running up over my thighs.

“I think this needs to go,” he said, tugging at the oversized T-shirt—his shirt
—
which
ran down to my mid-thigh.

“I thought you liked this on me,” I pouted playfully, my fingers lifting up the hem.

“I like it better off you,” he murmured, eyeing my bare thighs.

Straightening myself up, I gripped the hem of the shirt and lifted it over my head, a shiver racing down my back as his fingers trailed upward to my breasts. I was naked, completely exposed, and totally his.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured softly. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’m ready,” I promised. I shifted slowly in his lap, grinding myself against his erection. He moaned, growing even harder beneath me. He reached down and, lifting his hips, shuffled out of his boxer shorts, his hardness pressing against my pussy.

He retrieved a condom from the side table and broke it open. I watched him as he rolled it on.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing, I’ve just . . .” I wasn’t going to admit it was my first time. We might have been best friends, but that was one thing we didn’t discuss. I felt so silly, but other than during a curious late-night
internet
search, I hadn’t even seen a penis before.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Great, now he was worried about me. I nodded, and then randomly began to laugh, which made him look even more concerned.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to calm down. “It’s just, this is my first time.” I closed my eyes and waited for his laughter to ring in my ears. Instead, I felt his hands roll over my hips, his touch sending my senses into overdrive.

“Why are you embarrassed about that?” he said with a grin. “I think it’s cute.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m cute,” I grumbled. “I want you to think I’m sexy, and confident, and beautiful.”

He propped himself up on his elbows, his lips pressing against mine in a deep, slow kiss. My nipples hardened as they brushed past his bare chest. I exhaled sharply as he stroked the curve of my back, his fingers magical against my skin.

“You are all those things, Em. You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered.

It had been just three days after his diagnosis, and fifteen days since we’d officially begun dating. We didn’t know what the road ahead held. The prognosis could’ve been worse, but the chemotherapy and radiation were likely to make him really sick.

I’d wanted him to know I was there for him in every way. I’d wanted to give myself to him completely. It had been awkward and funny—nothing like I’d imagined it would be—but it had also been perfect, because I loved him.

“Do you want anything?”

I looked up, surprised that we were stopped at a gas station and I hadn’t even realized. Shutting the notebook, I pushed it back into my pocket.

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” I said, smiling.

“You look a little happier,” he observed, raising his eyebrows. His blue eyes studied me. “It’s good to see you smile again.”

It felt good to smile. There hadn’t been too many times over the last few weeks where I could think about Andy without bursting into tears.

Seth got out and walked around to the side of the car. I fiddled with my bracelet, rolling one of the tiny charms between my fingers. It was such an Andy thing in so many ways—romantic and thoughtful. And it had made me realize that I had so many things to look forward to. I’d been lucky enough to share so much with Andy. Maybe one day I’d be ready to create some new memories.

***

“Em.” Seth’s voice cut through my dreams. I stirred, opening my eyes. We were there. “Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded. We stepped out of the car. I walked toward the front door while Seth got our things. My heart pounded as I neared the door, my feet heavy as I forced one foot in front of the other. The night of his death was playing over and over in my head. Here, I couldn’t escape the memories; I had to face them.

It had been Seth’s idea to come back. He thought it would help me, to get back to where his last moments had been spent. And maybe it would. Along with our bags, Seth had a box. It contained a few of Andy’s things: the videos of our trip, some old photos of the three of us together . . . and his list.

We were there to finish the final few things off his bucket list. Neither of us had looked at it yet. We’d decided it was something that needed to be done there, where all three of us had been together. After what Andy had made us do while he was still alive, I was more than a little bit nervous to see what else he had on that list.

I walked inside, my skin tingling. It was freezing. The curtains were drawn, and the darkness of the day was making me feel depressed. I flipped on one of the lights, even though it was only five in the afternoon. The light filled the room, instantly making it feel warmer and homier. The place looked just as we’d left it—only cleaner.

Seth walked in behind me. He dropped our bags and put his hands around the front of my shoulders, hugging me against him. I reached up, my hand closing over his. I was so lucky to have him.

“I insist on covering some of the cost, staying here again,” I said.

“No, it’s all sorted. The agent managed to work out a really good deal with the owner, anyway. Besides, it’s only money.”

I nodded and walked around into the living room. Sitting down on the sofa, I set the box down on the coffee table and stared at it. So many memories waited for me inside, and as happy as they were, reliving them was painful. Seth sat next to me. He handed me a soda.

“Thanks.”

“Are you ready for this, Em?
Because we can do it later.
Take as much time as you need.”

“I’m ready,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. Was I ready? No, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be. My hands shook as they lifted the lid off the box. I pulled out the folded-up list, and the handful of photos that lay in the bottom under the weight of the videotapes and his camera. I flipped through photo after photo of the three of us, together. Smiling.
Happy.

Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the list. My heart pounded as I laid it down in front of me so we could both read it.

Andy’s bucket list

# Cliff jumping

# Get a tattoo

# Ride a bull

# NASCAR

# Dinner in a Michelin-star restaurant

# Camping in the backyard

# Learn another language

# Swim with the sharks

# Spend the night in a jumping castle on the lake

# Hot-air ballooning over the ocean

# Get drunk and make prank calls

# Help Em and Seth move on

Wow. There were things on there that he’d done ages ago. He had been working on this list for months. Things began to make sense: his sudden desire to learn French, his insisting we go to Decant—one of the top restaurants in the state—even though he could barely eat. He had been slowly working his way through this list and I’d never known it. Tears began to form as my eyes fell on the final item on the list.

# Tell Em that I love her every single day

I reached up and wiped away the tears. Seth’s arm crept behind my back as he held me close, letting me know he was there for me. I reached into my bag and pulled out my pen, drawing a line through the words.

“Because he did that. Every single day he told me he loved me, right up to the day he died.” I began to sob. Seth’s fingers stroked my hairline as all the stress and anxiety I had built up over the past few weeks began to tumble out.

This was all so wrong. Andy hadn’t deserved to die. How could such an amazing, wonderful, loving person’s life be over so soon? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing in this stupid world made any sense any more. I hated life. I hated living. And more than anything, I hated death.

“Shh, it’s okay. He loved you more than anything else in this world.” Seth held me in the warmth of his arms, my head resting against his chest. He held me as I cried. I traced my fingers o
ver
the scrawl of Andy’s writing, as if touching the dried ink would somehow bring me closer to him. I missed him so much, but I had to be strong for him. As much as I wanted to hide in bed and wait for death to take me too, Andy had wanted me to get on with my life. As impossible as that felt
at that moment,
I had to try.

“Let’s do this. Let’s go out and do these things for him,” I mumbled.