Page 93 of Loud Unspoken Memories

Dallas

Asher and I head upstairs. He has to change, and I have to… get the fuck out of here.

“He’ll be okay, you know,” Asher says. “He was little when we found out about his peanut allergy. This is the third time it’s happened. Marti always has an EpiPen with her. Always.”

“It’s my fault. All her shit spilled out of her purse during the accident. When I went to look for her phone, I just stuffed whatever I could find back into her purse.” I lean into the corner of the elevator, feeling the walls close in on me. “Jesus, he could have died.”

“Stop right there, man. I’m guessing you had no idea about his allergy. There is zero chance you would have known to look around her floorboard for an EpiPen. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I didn’t even think to ask Anita for the one they would have had when I picked him up and brought him back here. You want to blame someone, blame me.”

I steady myself on the wall, shaking my head over and over. I hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t help one goddamn bit. The boy had hives all around his mouth. His face was swollen. His fucking lips were turning bluer with every step I took. It’s all I could do not to go bat-shit crazy.

When we reach the rooms, he lets me into Marti’s. “You’re not coming to the hospital, are you?”

“I think Bex and I need to head home.”

“She’ll be gutted.”

“Charlie is okay, that’s what matters. It’s theonlything that matters.”

“If that’s what you really think, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

I put Bex’s leash on and gather his things. “Tell her… tell her I’m glad he’s okay. Charlie seems like one hell of a kid.”

“He is.”

I hold out my hand. “It’s been a day.”

He shakes, disappointment all over his face. “It’s been nice meeting you, Dallas. Even if you’re being a stupid motherfucker.”

“That I am,” I tell him as I lead Bex out of the room. I close the door and look back at it one last time. “That I am.”

~ ~ ~

The drive back to my cabin takes longer than the drive out. Not because of the weather, but because I have two panic attacks on the way home. I have to pull over and let them pass.

I’ve never had a panic attack before. When the first one hit, I was sure I was having a heart attack. I was close to calling 911, but figured what would be the point? I’ve just walked away from the only good thing in my life in two-and-a-half years. To what—go back to my pathetic existence?

Pulling up to my cabin, I turn off the engine and stare out the windshield. The place looks different somehow. Smaller. Emptier.

Stepping inside, my eyes go straight to the bed. It’s still unmade, and I’ll bet it smells of her. Her and sex. I walk over to see the bracelet right where she thought she left it. I run my finger across the initials, contemplating putting it in my pocket. But I don’t. It’ll still be here tomorrow.

I look at the kitchen and see her making a meal. At the table, I can picture her laughing.

The couch reminds me of the hours and hours she’d read to me.

I don’t even have to enter the bathroom to imagine her taking a bath and touching herself.

She’s everywhere.

And I know I can’t stay.

Before, this place was my solace. The spot I needed to hide away and exist in all the nothingness. But then Marti happened. And I no longer want the nothingness. She’s right. I need people.

It’s too cold in here, and not just because the power is out.

I load as much wood as I can into the fireplace to keep the cabin at an acceptable temperature until the propane comes, then I slam the small wrought iron door shut with my foot.Hard. I’m not sure why I’m pissed at it specifically, but I’m pissed atsomething.

I stuff some clothes into my backpack, get Bex’s bag of food, and go back to the truck where Bex awaits, still inside, as if I already knew I wouldn’t be staying.

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