The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller (27 page)

He turns his back on me, clearing his throat as he steps toward the door. “Take a shower. I’m going to get your clothes and I’ll put them by the bathroom for when you’re ready.” Placing his fingers on the handle, he jerks it open, adding before he steps outside, “And please, for the love of God, take the fucking contacts out.”

The door slams shut and I stand there, completely taken aback not only with his obvious issue with my appearance, but the situation as a whole.

I know that Linda has been in and out of the hospital recently, but only because I’m usually forced to hear the first sentence of her messages before deleting them and texting her back. Kaeleb has a key to the house and knows his way around, which tells me he’s been here before. Possibly several times.

“…we have become extremely close during your…
absence
.”

Having
Kaeleb bring me here and force me to come face-to-face with the situation, makes everything seem so real. I’ve managed to block the pain and detach myself from the harshness of this reality, but being here in this house with the loving memories of Linda everywhere I look, my barricade completely crumbles. I’m no longer safely secure inside its numbness. I’m suddenly thrust into feeling—for the first time in several months—every single emotion I’ve been avoiding.

My eyes fill with tears of frustration as I slowly drag my feet to the bathroom, my selfishness becoming painfully obvious. I know I disappeared when she needed me, but in my twisted mind I figured she was better off without me, that I would only cause more illness. I’d just hoped that, without me, her chances of survival would increase drastically.

Which, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be the case.

My chin trembles as I flick on the light and glance to my reflection, watching the tiny droplets pool along the black smudges lining the bottoms of my eyes from the tears now being shed. My face is pale and drawn, my skin sallow, and the areas covered in black are swollen and puffy. I look like shit on the outside, but I feel even worse on the inside as disappointment begins to seep through my mind.

Disappointment in my cowardice.

Disappointment in my apathy.

Disappointment in the time I’ve wasted.

I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.

“You’ve already buried her Bree, but she’s
still
alive.”

My hands find my face, covering my cheeks as my fingernails dig into the skin underneath them out of pure frustration. My heart aches with the knowledge that she was forced to face this fight without me by her side.

A battle she’s waging not for herself, but for me.
For me
.

Guilt overcomes me, and the piercing pain of its presence slices open my chest with the precision of a sharpened blade. Tears roll down my wrists and forearms as it penetrates, cutting and stripping away the layers of decay until only a small sliver which burns brightly with unwavering vitality remains.

I love Linda. She deserves more than I could ever possibly give her.
Definitely
more than what I’ve settled on providing her over the last several months with my nonexistence.

Shame fills my heart.

I should have been
here,
right by her side as she fights this impossible fight.

And with the allowance of that admission, I cautiously grip the shard of light, cradling it and nestling it closely as I guide it slowly into the voided space in my chest, then release it carefully. As the warmth sparks and begins to spread throughout, I breathe in slowly, enjoying the soothing calm of its presence.

It may only be a spark, but I find myself hoping that it continues to grow.

Tearing my hands away from my eyes, I open them, surprised by the flush in my cheeks as my coloring returns with vigor before leaning forward and plucking the contacts out of my eyes.

And then, against all odds, new-found determination sets in as I drop them in the commode and jump in the shower.

After finding the bag that Kaeleb so lovingly dropped by the bathroom door, I grab my clothes, thankful for the familiar jeans and concert tee that he packed, but also note that he must have left my trusty Docs at home with my contact case. I slip my feet into my Chucks and haphazardly brush my hair before wrapping an elastic band around it at the crown and half-pulling it through so it looks like a big ball against my head. A sheer white color tops my lids, which are thankfully less swollen after the shower, since that’s the only other color left in my makeup bag. After brushing the mascara through my lashes, I slide a sheer gloss over my lips and finally exit the bathroom.

Hesitantly, I enter the kitchen to find Kaeleb bent at the waist, rummaging through the refrigerator.

Sigh.

He’s always looked really good in those jeans, the ones that hang low from the waist and fit rather nicely across his ass. The navy button-up he’s wearing lies perfectly along the tops of the familiar designs on his back pockets, and I’m momentarily memorized as I watch the movements of his back and the way his forearms bulge underneath the rolls of his sleeves as he grabs items off the top shelf.

God, I miss him.

After stockpiling practically the whole fridge in his arms, he pivots around, only to come to a standstill when he sees me standing behind the counter. I’m sure my staring is blatantly obvious, but I don’t feel bad because he’s now doing the same to me. His eyes run from my hair, to my eyes, to my chest, and then back to my eyes before he clears his throat and resumes his steps to the other side of the counter.

“You look…better. Leaving the piercings in I see.”

I reach up and skim my eyebrow with my fingertips before flicking my septum piercing just for spite.

I definitely don’t miss this attitude of his.

“Maybe some other time. Think you can just be happy about the contacts for today?”

His head dips his acceptance and he tears his gaze from me, setting the food down and reaching inside the cabinet to grab two paper plates.

Damn, he really does know his way around this place.

“Sandwich?” he asks, gesturing to the bread in front of him before opening the bag and throwing two slices on both plates.

“Um, looks like it doesn’t matter what I say, does it?” I respond, watching as he places a couple of slices of ham on the bread before adding lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, and mustard.

Once he’s done, he raises his eyes to meet mine. Without breaking eye contact, he flicks his wrist, releasing the plate from his fingers and sending it spinning before it comes to a stop right in front of me. “Nope, it really doesn’t.”

I tighten my eyes at him and watch as he adds potato chips to his sandwich, mashing down the top slice of bread before taking a bite.

“Eat,” he remarks through a full mouth while jerking his head in my direction.

“Look,” I huff, still not taking a bite from the blasted sandwich. “I get that you’re pissed at me, okay, but do you think it’s possible for you to refrain from being a
complete
jerkoff today?”

He shakes his head. “No, probably not.”

After finishing his sandwich in three bites flat, he leans forward, placing his palms on the counter, and staring at my untouched food. “You need to eat, Bree. But take it slow.” Raising his head, his eyes latch onto mine, ill humor working its way into his expression. “Your body might go into shock from actually consuming food as opposed to the liquid diet you’ve been consuming non-stop.”

My eyes tighten into slits as he laughs under his breath, but I grab the sandwich anyway and bring it to my mouth. Just before I take a bite, I lower it, using the same line he used on me a little over an hour ago. “Some things never change, I see. Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

Taking the sandwich in one hand, I bring it back toward my ear and chuck it as hard as I can, watching with a smirk on my face as it lands smack against his forehead and then falls to the counter, right between his hands.

He looks to the mess below him, picking pieces of lettuce out of his hair, before lifting his face and eyeing my pleased grin. His lips barely quirk at the corners before he straightens his face. “You’re lucky you just took a shower.”

“Am I?” I try to maintain a straight face, but the pickle still stuck in his hair makes it really difficult. The mood lightens as my lips twitch, and for the first time today, his eyes soften. Slowly, he reaches over the counter and places his hand underneath my chin, tilting my head backwards with his knuckle. His gaze never breaks as he narrows his eyes, staring deeply into mine as he angles his head to the left.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb just under my bottom lip before releasing his hold and redirecting his attention to the mess. Just as he opens the door to the pantry and dumps the remains of my sandwich into the trashcan, my curiosity gets the best of me.

“How do you know your way around so well? How often have you been over here?”

His hand finds his hip and his head falls before he inhales deeply. Still looking at the floor, he speaks, barely above a whisper, “Someone had to help her, Bree.” His head lifts, his eyes filled with uneasiness. “I’m not gonna bullshit you. It’s pretty bad. I’ve been visiting a lot more over the last month.”

A bulge lodges in my throat and I’m forced to clear it before I speak. “How long have you been talking to her?”

He answers without hesitation. “Since you decided to disappear on us. She would call me, concerned, and I would call her to see if she had heard from you. We would speak once or twice a week, but then things started happening. It started with a cough here and there, but then over the months it started getting uncontrollable. I could hear her over the phone, coughing and gagging. A lot of times she’d have to let me go and call me back.”

He draws a deep breath. “I couldn’t just let her suffer like that, you know? It wasn’t right. So, a couple of months ago I started coming by on the weekends to help her as much as I could.”

I nod my head, trying to fight back the guilt and grief threatening my eyes. Swallowing deeply, I amend my previous statement. “Maybe you’re not such an asshole then.” Rising from my seat, I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.” I turn away, but stop and pivot back in his direction, offering him an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry about the sandwich.”

The corner of his mouth lifts into his characteristic lopsided smile as he chuckles under his breath. “Don’t be. That sandwich was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, Bree. It’s nice to see you smile again. Even if it’s at my expense.”

My dimple sinks into my pierced cheek as we stare at each other from across the room. His teeth find his bottom lip as he smiles until he releases it to suck in a loud breath, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Well, assuming I’m safe from another sandwich-launch to the face, with me
not
being an asshole and all, can I make you another one before we hit the road?”

I nod my head, but worry starts to hijack my heart with the mention of my visit with Linda. Before I know it, I’m stuffed full of sandwich, and pulling into the parking lot of the hospital as I try to calm my breathing. Once we’ve stopped, I make no move to get out of the car.

“Ready?” Kaeleb prompts from next to me as he pulls the keys from the ignition.

My eyes prick with tears, and I can barely swallow, the narrowing of my throat increasing with my apprehension.

What if she hates me?

What if she can’t forgive me?

What if she doesn’t even want to see me?

Thoughts fly around in my head so quickly I can barely process them. Gripping the door handle as tightly as I physically can, I turn to Kaeleb. “I’m scared.”

The simple disclosure propels stinging tears down my cheeks. Kaeleb, in turn, just offers a sad smile, leaning his head against his headrest. “You can do this. I know you can.”

My mouth scrunches to the side as I try to convince myself to get out of the car while Kaeleb just sits patiently and waits. After a while, I eventually draw in and release a deep, long breath before finally pulling the door handle and stepping outside. Kaeleb jumps out to meet me in front of the car, and as we make our way into the hospital entrance, I step closer to him, so close the arms of our coats rub against each other. I focus on the sound, trying to block the building anxiety in my stomach and tightening in my chest, until we stop in front of the elevator. I watch as Kaeleb reaches forward and presses the “Up” button with his finger, my foot tapping with nervous energy, my hands trembling furiously.

The door dings and an involuntary whimper escapes my throat as fear forces its way out of my system. My feet remain planted in place, dread rooting me to the ground until familiar warmth envelops my hand. I glance down as Kaeleb interlaces our fingers, then look up to meet his eyes—kind, full of patience and understanding, and in them I find the strength I need. After giving him thanks with a small smile, we face forward and step into the elevator. Together.

Once inside, we turn as the door closes, still joined as he clutches my hand tightly, feeding me his steely determination with his hold. His resilience continues to flow through me as we ride up four floors…as the doors slide open…as we walk down the hall…as we knock on Room 431 in the Oncology Wing…and by the time we step inside, his grip has become so strong I can no longer feel my fingers.