Fall from Love

Holly’s been through, too.”
    “Dude, I’m fine.” I whirl around to face him again. “I just want me and Holly to be friends—for all of us to be friends. It would be nice if she didn’t want to run every time she saw me... especially now that you and her best friend are fuck buddies.”
    He punches me in the arm. “Hey, don’t be disrespectful and don’t be an asshole… and most of all, don’t be a douche and act all weird around Holly tonight, either. Jenna says she’s doing a lot better and trying to get her life back together. So just act normal tonight.” He aims a pointed look at me like I’m an idiot and can’t understand the words that just came out of his mouth. That’s when I realize I just can’t take it anymore; I just want to get the hell out of here. The memories from that night begin to rush back to me and I can’t take it.
    “Whatever, man, I’m going for a run.”
    I push past him and walk out of the kitchen, feeling like crap. If he knew me so well, then he would know that the accident is all I think about and bringing it up is not the right thing to do. That night plays over and over in my head constantly. Every time I close my eyes to sleep at night, I see images from that night... the same images I see when I look at myself in the mirror each morning.
    It takes me only a matter of minutes to change and then I’m taking my anger out on the pavement. My run starts out as a slow jog, but the more I think about that night and all the other people that have disappeared from my life in the past few years, the more I push my legs to move as fast as they will go. I’m hoping the pain and guilt I’m feeling in my chest will vanish with each step I take. I push myself harder and with every breathe I take the air burns in my chest, rises up and enters my throat. I run until my lungs are on fire and I can hardly catch my breath. Finally, when I’ve had enough punishment, I hunch over and gasp for air, feeling lucky that I’m here and I can still breathe. It’s hard to forget how close it came to having two deaths that night and not just one.
     
    ❧
     
    I’m down in the kitchen chopping vegetables for some new pasta dish Josh is making. Even though the shit he said earlier today—about not acting like a douche—still pisses me off, deep down, I know he’s right. I’m sure Holly is trying her best to get on with her life and I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for her. I can’t help it, though; just seeing her brings me back to the night I had to tell her everything at the hospital. The way she cried and screamed, it was if she reached into my chest and ripped my heart out with her bare hands. Maybe that’s why it helps so much to see her happy, to see her smile, and to know that she’s doing okay.
    The front door opens and two female voices float into the kitchen. Josh gets that stupid, big grin on his face and aims a pointed look in my direction. “Remember, don’t be a douche and don’t let the bread burn.” He wipes his hands on a dish towel and practically runs to the front door to meet them. I shake my head and keep chopping.
    A few seconds later Holly walks in and I look over at her.
    “Hey,” I say.
    “Hi, Carter.” She smiles—a real smile—and hangs her purse over the back of the chair next to me. “Josh said that he had something to show Jenna real quick. Can I help you with something?”
    Yeah, I’m sure he has something to show her… and I’m sure it’ll be a quickie.
    “I can help you chop,” she continues, eyeing the vegetables in front of me. It takes me a second to realize that she’s staring at me, awaiting my reply. I’m not sure why I’m staring at her, but I swear that there’s something different about her today. She looks as hot as always, yet I swear she’s glowing or something. She has the biggest smile on her face and I can’t tear my eyes away from it.
    “Uh, no, I’m almost done.” I force my eyes to look away. “Can I get you a drink or something?”
    “Sure, a drink would be great.”
    “It’s pretty much beer, water or milk,” I offer, pushing out of my chair and standing up.
    “Beer is good.” She nods.
    She follows me down the hall and into the garage.
    “So, how was skydiving?” I ask her.
    “It was…” she pauses for a second, searching for the right word, and I find myself staring at her, waiting for her response. “Un-freakin-believable,” she finally decides.
    I laugh at her made up