‘Not wait for you!’ I yelled, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes as I whirled around to face him, hair flying in front of my face. A woman turned to stare at me, placing a protective arm around her little boy and giving me a wide berth as they hurried past. ‘I don’t know how to do life without you, Joe. I’ve tried. Believe me, all I’ve done this year istry. Try to move on, but not forget. Try to be strong, but also gentle with myself. Try to live inthe present, but not let the past die. But I’ll always wait for you, for a thousand lifetimes, Joe, if it means we get to spend just five more minutes together.’
‘But it’s not real, Jenny,’ Joe insisted, an urgency to his voice that hadn’t been there before. ‘This—’ he waved his palm back and forth between us ‘—this isn’t real. What we hadisreal and nothing can ever take that away from us. But the world won’t wait for you, Jenny. Life’s short – and, trust me, I should know.’ For once I didn’t find his attempt to lighten the mood endearing, or even remotely funny, my mouth setting in a grim, firm line. ‘Don’t waste your future by longing for the past.’
He made it sound so simple. Like letting him go was as easy as allowing the string of a balloon to slip through your fingers, watching it float away on the wind, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely from view. Bile rose in my throat and I turned away, my pace quickening as I pounded the pavement, unsure whether I was running from or towards something. Joe ran ahead of me, walking backwards so I was forced to look at him.
‘Would you change it?’ he demanded.
‘What?’
‘Would you go back and make it so we never met? Erase every night we spent together, every kiss, every whispered conversation under the duvet, just so you didn’t have to endure the pain when it ended?’
I scowled at him, furious that he’d even suggest such a thing. ‘Of course not.’
Joe smacked his hand against his thigh as if I’d just proved his point. ‘Exactly! So then why are you denying yourself a chance at happiness again? Wouldn’t you want the same thing for me if it were the other way around?’
For a second, I wished itwerethe other way around. That it had been me the drunk driver had hit, just so I wouldn’tbe the one left with a giant hole punched through their heart, an excruciating, constant reminder that something was missing. My feet stilled on the lip of the pavement, the lump in my throat unmoving as I registered where I was. I was stood at one of the traffic-light controlled crossings on the main road that ran along the promenade. The exact spot where Joe had his accident. My hand reached out, holding on to the traffic light pole for support as my mind travelled back to that day, the day my whole world ended.
It had started just like any ordinary Tuesday. But then again, aren’t all days ordinary until they’re not? The usual slept-through alarms (me), dashing frantically about the flat whilst simultaneously trying to put on socks and brush teeth (again, me), freshly made coffee brewing in the kitchen (Joe), a stolen kiss bouncing off someone’s jawbone as we sailed past each other. I hurtled towards the front door like a whirlwind with a hurriedremember to grab some milk on your way home today, yeah?over my shoulder before the door slammed shut behind me. I’d obsessed about that final conversation for weeks. Months. Chastising myself for not sayingI love youlike I normally did every morning. For not taking a second to stop and look into those ocean-blue eyes of his, to taste his lips on mine. Because you never think that will be the last time. You assume there’ll be a tomorrow. You think you have forever. But Joe didn’t bring any milk home that day. A drunk driver had seen to that, running a red light and crashing straight into the side of Joe’s bike. And just like that, he was gone.
My phone vibrated again, and I dug it out of my pocket. Luca. Again.
‘Jenny—’
I turned back to the sound of Joe’s voice, his face the last thing I saw as I stepped off the kerb. I didn’t see that the little man wasn’t green, or that people were still waiting patientlyon the cobbled pavement opposite. I certainly didn’t see the cyclist approaching from my right, weaving in and out of the waiting queue of cars. All I saw was Joe’s pupils widen with horror behind his glasses as I felt the crushing impact, my body crumpling as the ground rushed up to meet me. And then everything went black.
I knew even before I opened my eyes that I was in the hospital. I could feel the stiff, scratchy sheets beneath my bare legs, the open-backed polyester gown bunched uncomfortably somewhere around my hips. The hot, stale air had the bitter taste of disinfectant, burning the back of my throat as I listened to the repetitive beeping coming from somewhere to my left. I tried to ignore the machine, but each beep was louder than the last, mocking me with the reminder that even after everything, my broken heart was somehow still beating. I turned my head away, not wanting to watch the little red line leaping joyously upwards on the monitor. And there was Luca. All six foot something of him crammed awkwardly into the hardbacked chair beside the bed, one hand resting on his thigh, the other stretched outwards, his fingertips resting on the edge of the bed less than a centimetre from my own. His eyes were closed, dark, bruise-like shadows beneath them, as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. I tried to sit up, pushing my hand flat against the hard, plastic-lined mattress, but a sudden sharp pain shot through my ribs like a red-hot poker.
‘Ow!’
Luca’s eyes blinked open as I sucked my breath in sharply between my teeth, my hand flying to my right-hand side, which felt tender and swollen beneath my grazed fingers.
‘You’re awake.’ His voice was thick like cotton wool, speaking of missed sleep and endless worry. ‘Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the nurse?’
I shook my head, my hand reaching out to catch his as he jumped to his feet.
‘Don’t go.’
His brow softened, his eyes warm like melted chocolate as he slowly sat back down, the plastic covering letting out a small sigh as he resumed his position by my side. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Jenny. I’m right here.’
‘What happened?’ I frowned, my brain sluggish and slow as I tried to fill in the blanks. My head was pounding, and I winced as my fingers ran over a neat, raised line of sutures along my hairline.
‘You were getting coffee, remember?’ Luca said gently.
I nodded slowly, an image of Drew’s flashing into my mind.
‘Well, you were gone a while. I was starting to get worried, but you weren’t picking up your phone, so .?.?.’ Luca’s voice drifted off, unspoken questions lingering in the air between us as his eyes scanned my face, searching for answers.
‘I was crossing the road,’ I said slowly, my brow furrowing with the effort of trying to clear the fog.
‘That’s right. The cyclist came out of nowhere apparently, the woman waiting to cross on the other side of the road saw the whole thing.’
‘Jenny?’
All the breath rushed out of me, the sound of my name coming from somewhere down the hall setting off a violent sequence of flashbacks, the fog clearing just enough to reveal the details. A lonely figure in a coffee-stained sweatshirt and floaty red dress sat amongst the pebbles, hugging her knees to her chest. The concerned looks on people’s faces as I stormed past them, one lady mutteringbit early, isn’t it?as her friend mimed glugging from an imaginary bottle. The way Joe’s glasses kept slipping down his nose as he hurried to keep up with me. Joe.
My head snapped up, towards the sound of fast-approachingfootsteps echoing down the corridor. Alice skidded to a halt in the doorway, both hands bracing themselves against the doorframe, her chest heaving beneath her scrubs. She was still wearing a blue surgical cap, a disposable face mask hanging loosely around her neck as if she hadn’t bothered to take the three seconds required to remove it.
‘Jenny,’ she sighed breathlessly, her grip on the door loosening a fraction as she analysed me quickly from head to toe, her breathing slowing with each limb accounted for. ‘I came as soon as I heard. I was in surgery and I didn’t see my page until—’
