Page 69 of Poetry By Dead Men
Bobby's silent, his lips pressed together.
"Talk to me, please. It's not like I'm dropping out of school. I still can write and learn about books and poems just as well here as I can in England."
He sighs. "I just can't help but feel like you're giving up this amazing opportunity for me while I travel the country to follow my dreams and leave you behind. Don't you see how fucked up that is? You're too talented to sit around in your dorm waiting for weekends to watch me perform my songs for the world.Yourwords are important too, Beth."
I grab Bobby's hands, hoping touching him will remind him of what's important. "I know my words are important. I will continue to write them. But I love you.Youare my future. Europe will always be there. Poems willalwaysbe there."
"Beth, I think—" He's interrupted by my phone ringing.
I flip it over on the bed. "It's Molly. Give me a second," I say, answering before I can miss her. We've played phone tag the past week or so, and I want to hear her voice.
"Hello?"
"Beth?" Molly’s crying, her breaths shuddering so violently I can barely understand her. I jump to my feet, the air rushing from my lungs.
"What's wrong? Molly, slow down." I can hear the panic in my voice, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. Because I know what she's going to say. I can feel it with a certainty that makes my head swim and the room spin. My knees buckle, but Bobby's instantly at my side, holding me up.
"It's Michael," Molly finally says through her sobs. "He's gone, Beth. My brother is gone."
I don't remember much of the next few hours other than Bobby taking the phone from me as the tears stream from my eyes. I'm rambling. "I'm sorry, Molly. I'm so, so sorry." It's all I can say, over and over and over again.
Somewhere in my haze of grief, I register Bobby talking to Molly. "What do you need?"
And then we're driving, and the tears still won’t stop, and I fear they're going to drown me.
Not Michael.
This can't be happening.
But itishappening.
Another wave crashes over me, and I struggle to stay at the surface. I can’t breathe, but somehow, I do.
Bobby leads me to Molly's door and then she's in my arms and I'm in hers and we're collapsing to our knees, and it's not fucking fair.
"What happened? I don't understand," I finally say after we've cried together for what feels like hours. Bobby's on the phone, and I hear something about canceling shows, but my focus is on Molly.
"He got a fever on Thursday, and we took him to the hospital. He's had fevers before, but it was an infection, and his little body just couldn't fight it. WhyMichael?" she sobs.
"I know," I say. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I'm a broken record, and I don't think I'll ever say anything else ever again. "I'm so sorry."
Bobby finally helps us off the floor and moves us to the couch, but Molly never lets go of me. We cry until we fall asleep, and I dream of a world with Michael still in it. Of dancing in the kitchen to "Gray," and Nerf gun wars and big, gap-toothed smiles.
But when I wake up, my eyes are still swollen, and Molly's breaths still shudder.
"Bobby?" I whisper, looking around in a panic. Molly might need me, and I will be here for her as long as she does, but I need him.
He's kneeling in front of me in an instant, his calloused fingers cupping my face. "I'm here, Beth. I'm not going anywhere." His eyes and nose are red, and I realize he's been crying, too. I fall apart all over again, my face pressed into his shirt to muffle my sobs so I don't wake Molly.
Because she's going to wake up soon enough. And just like I did, she's going to be confronted with the horrific, unfair reality that her brother is gone, and he won't be coming back.
Every day for the rest of her life, she will wake up and have to remember what she lost.
And I know it's selfish, but all I can think about is that I never want to feel the pain of a broken heart ever again.
NOW
September 2024: Nashville, TN
