Page 55 of Time To Live Again

Olive gets up, slips into the bathroom, and comes back with tissues. She quickly jumps under the covers to stay warm. I look at her with bleary eyes. She captures the tears running down my face with a tissue. “I hate seeing you cry. I wish I could take the pain away.”

I pull her close to me again. Her body heat warms me after recalling the bitter memories.

“He died five years ago in March. Right before the lockdown. When he did, a part of me died too. I can seriously understand how twins feel when the other one dies. Lost? It’s a fucking understatement for what I was. It ripped my heart out to watch him turn into a different person, to see the cancer eat away and suck the life out of my best friend. I dropped everything to be by his side the entire time. I thought I could help him through it and then we’d continue pursuing our dreams. I didn’t think I could live without him, but he made me promise to keep doing what we started.”

This is just as hard as it was then. I pull in a shaky breath.

“The real shitty thing is that I wasn’t there when he took his last breath. He was under hospice care at home. That day, I went out to pick up something for my aunt at the pharmacy. The doctor said he still had some time, but by the time I got back, Corey was gone.”

A giant sob surprises me. The painful ache in my chest returns, stealing my breath as if I’ve walked into his house again, where he took his last breath without me.

Olive embraces me, her grip tight. I bury my face in her hair and inhale her beautiful scent.

While stroking the back of my head, she says, “So, let me guess. You haven’t danced or sung since that day.”

“Even before that. I didn’t want to if he couldn’t do it with me. We were a team. It didn’t feel right without him.”

“What did you do after? What happened to your job, the blog…?”

“I gave it all up. I was stuck here on the island because the pandemic hit, and everything reminded me of him. The hotel was empty. I had way too much time to think—there was nothing else to do. As soon as the lockdowns were lifted and travel resumed, I contacted travel magazines. I offered to be a journalist since that was my minor in college and I had experience with traveling. As soon as I got an offer, I jumped on it and left. That’s how I got my current job as a hotel critic.”

“And it became your escape. But how do you deal with the traveling? That was part of what you and Corey did too. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yep. It’s different, though. I only critique fancy hotels, not cheap ones or hostels. Corey and I showed people how to travel on a budget. Now I visit stunning locations, but I don’t get the same pleasure from them as I did the crazy places we went to. I do my job and go to the next hotel.” I shrug. “It provides a distraction from this place and all the pity I get here. Over time, I guess it’s gotten easier. Either that or I’ve grown accustomed to the heavy burden on my chest.”

“I know that feeling. My dad’s death is still fresh for me.Sometimes it feels like someone put a cinderblock on my chest. Especially when I think about things my dad will never experience—walking me down the aisle on my wedding day or holding his grandchildren.”

My heart swells as I realize that, not only is she dealing with her past in LA, she lost her dad not long ago too. She hasn’t had as much time to grieve as I have, yet her empathy shines through.

“It’s hard to believe it’s only been a few days since we met.” She plays with a strand of my hair. “I had no idea you were dealing with so much. You’re like the sun. Happy, goofy, social. Everyone gravitates to you… Is that all an act?”

“No. I’ve always been like this. It’s the side of me that I show. The dark part I keep hidden deep down here.” I point at my heart.

“I’m not sure that’s good, Leo.”

“No, I know. I don’t let it rule me like I used to. It’s easier to come home now, but I always need to leave again after a while. I don’t like talking about Corey much. It brings everything back, and it seems everywhere I go around here, someone mentions him. I mean, it’s great that people remember him, but?—”

“He must’ve really been special,” Olive says.

“He was.” I rake my hand through my hair and switch gears. “Anyway, all the things that were ours from traveling, blogging…I packed them up and stored them at Mom’s and in Aunt Betty’s attic. I don’t want to look at that stuff. And I’m embarrassed to admit this—” I stop, tears stinging my eyes and choking my throat.

“You can tell me anything,” she assures me.

“The last time I was at his grave was at his funeral. I couldn’t go again.”

“Leo, look at me.”

My cloudy gaze locks on hers.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human. Everyone deals with death differently. Didn’t you say something like that to me?”

“I know, but I still feel like shit because of it. He deserves better than that. Guilt wears me down every day. Especially when I’m here. I could go visit him any time, but I don’t. I’ll drive out of my way to avoid going near the cemetery.”

“Okay, so what’s different about this week,” she asks. “Why the change? Dancing, singing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Her eyebrows furrow.

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