Page 10 of Freak
“Or, just hurtful.”
“I know a thing or two about that.” I said, reaching the start of a dark, windowless hall. At the end was a door, my door, the place where it all started.
“He still wouldn’t talk to me… even after he got sick. I wasn’t even sure if he wanted me at his funeral.”
“Who cares what he wanted. What did you want?” I asked, stopping at the door, gripping the bag in my hand.
Rafael pursed his lips, then twisted them to the side. Whatever he wanted to say, whatever he felt, manifested into deep brooding grooves on his head. He was as gorgeous as he was serious.
“What I wanted was to go back in time… and give my attention to those who gave it back, unconditionally.”
“People like Veronica and Jake?”
Rafael furrowed harder.
“People like you,” he said so bluntly, that it rocked my shoulders, causing them to drop as I looked back into his face.
Don’t you fucking tremble, Summer.
“You’re in luck,” I choked. “You want to go back in time… well, now you can.”
Rafael read the small wood name tag adjacent to the door. “Mrs. Wilkins class?” he asked.
I twisted the knob before stepping aside, commanding him to do as I said. “Walk inside, and don’t stop till you reach the back of the class.”
Rafael
Cautiously, I walked ahead, particularly sensitive to every breath Summer took, to every move she made in her tall, gorgeous heels.
Was this what she envisioned happening, and if so, how long had she wanted this? Was it as long as me, was it as fucking unbearable as I imagined? No. I was sure it was worse for her, because I was the one with guilt, but she was the one with pain.
“I think of you every day,” I finally admitted, running my finger along the table, surprised by how clean it actually was.
“That’s ridiculous,” she inhaled, shaking off the notion.
“No, it’s not,” I said sternly. “When I say every day, I mean it.”
“Well, I guess we have that in common.” She placed her bag on a table, cocking her head for some witty comeback.
I had nothing but the truth.
“I know it’s not a compliment. I see how you look at me. I deserve that… It’s just ironic is all.”
“How so?” she asked, making her way to the closet in the back, the closet. I shut my eyes, squeezing them as hard as I could, hoping, praying, that somehow, whatever was supposed to happen would get me closer to what she needed.
“All day I’m in surgeries, spending hours and hours helping kids, fixing hearts that otherwise would’ve failed had it not been for you. It’s your chips, your implants that I see in those moments—those seconds—where everything I was trained to do boils down to the renewed beat of a heart… a delicate, steady beep of an EKG that reminds me of one single goddamn thing.”
Summer turned her back to the closet, her hands wrapped around its handles as she tilted her chin to the floor.
Her silence was deafening, her unresponsiveness beating like a drum inside my ears.
“What does it remind you of?” she asked.
“Summer, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for that day. For Jake, for Veronica. Fuck… for me.”
“Tell me,” she said calmly, her eyes shifted into cool, stealthy, black diamonds, her lips full and red, nipped by the clench of her teeth.
I spilled my guts, avoiding a response.
