I cringe, waiting for her to ask me about it.
She leans forward to collect it, her eyes tracing over the gold chain and pearl pendant that’s been sitting in my truck for months. Then, without a word, she fishes for the lid and puts it back on before slipping it into the cup holder and starting the engine.
We ride in silence, her confession swarming my thoughts until we stop in front of the house I share with Pax, Arlo, and Caleb.
The silence is magnified as she cuts the engine, but before it can cross into uncomfortable, she swings her door open and hops out. The second her feet connect with the ground, she starts coughing. It’s a guttural sound that has her bending at the waist.
I cross the front of the truck and place a hand on her shoulder, sure she’s going to pass out. Her lips form a small ‘O,’ and the coughing slows as she takes short breaths, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts as she reaches her hands above her head. She opens her eyes, looking at me with regret and shame before she closes them again, taking measured breaths as her skin fades from red.
“What was that all about?”
“Another product of my decision.”
A car pulls into the driveway, the headlights so bright we both have to lift a hand to shield our eyes. She slowly takes another deep breath, as though testing that she can, then she takes out her phone, revealing the Lyft app. “There’s my ride.”
“You just coughed up a lung. You should stay. Sit down.”
“I’m fine,” she says. “If you’d been around, you’d realize it sounds way better than it did.”
She twists the dagger by turning away, disappearing into the dark car.
Once again, I don’t stop her.
6
Raegan
Ag·o·ny
/ˈaɡənē/
noun
Agony: Extreme mental or physical suffering.
Synonyms: Saying good-bye.
I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down, gripping the balled excess fabric I’ve repeatedly used as a tissue. Regardless of knowing this moment was coming, it hasn’t made it any easier to accept. Maggie’s blotchy cheeks and red nose aren’t helping either, the desire to comfort her warring with my own emotions that have been spilling down my face as I fear for lost time, her safety, and a tinge of selfishness about who I’ll talk to and confide in.
I wasn’t even supposed to see her, and yet the time I wish to continue feels stolen. Invisible threads of fear and unshed tears wrap around my larynx, making my throat so tight it aches. It’s a miracle I’m not choking on another coughing fit.
Dad pulls into the parking lot of the airport. It’s too soon. The thirty-minute drive felt like two seconds. My mouth grows hot, my eyes heavy with tears that blur my vision, and the lump in my throat becomes impossibly bigger. Maggie doesn’t move from her seat beside me in the back to unlatch her seat belt, pressing her lips together in a firm line though her chin shakes.
Mom gets out first. She’s been crying all morning, and I know it’s only going to get worse. Paxton and Dad follow, going around to the trunk to start unloading the single suitcase and carry-on that Maggie’s taking with her for the next year. I try to swallow—attempt to gain some bit of composure, so Maggie doesn’t feel sadder or gather any doubts in these last few hours. She turns to me, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She lifts her hands, gripping both sides of my face before the thin veil of self-control she was holding onto falls with a torrent of tears and a guttural sound that rips my heart back into my throat. I can’t breathe because if I do, I’m going to fall apart at the seams.
I focus on the coolness of her touch against my hot and puffy cheeks, on my parents talking at the back of the car, discussing what time Maggie will be landing and the weather reports for her impending flight.
“You’re going to kick ass at college.” She takes a deep breath, her fingers pressing into my cheeks. “I love you, and I am only a phone call away if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?” Her stare is more familiar than my reflection, and it’s filled with a thousand words and memories that seize my maturity and crush my heart. Maggie pulls me closer, holding me as I wrap my arms around her. Her shoulders bob, closely followed by her cries, the difficulty to breathe and find composure is again lost.
After several long minutes, I pull back, wiping at my dampened cheeks with the wad of sweatshirt still balled in my hands. “Promise you’ll be safe and won’t try to fight every battle on your own?”
She hiccups, using the box of tissues she’d packed to dry her face. “If you promise not to jump into the ocean alone.” Another tear falls, but she swipes it away. “I want to hear about your boy journal. Bad first dates and epic kisses that turn you inside out.” She nudges me. “But, don’t give up on Lincoln. Not yet.”
Currently, boys are in the very back of my thoughts, but I stick my pinky out anyways because I’ll gladly make up stories about guys if she sticks to her end of the bargain.
Dad opens Maggie’s door. “Sorry, kiddos, but this plane is going to leave with or without you.”
Tears tumble faster, spilling down my cheeks
Maggie nods a couple of times, and then climbs out of the car, grabbing her purse and a small bag Mom and I arranged with some of her favorite things for the long flight.
Grandpa and Camilla join us as we walk into the airport, where Paxton and Grandpa work to exchange bad jokes to lighten the mood as Maggie checks her bag. We take the short path to the security checkpoint, and I have to turn away as my family professes their love for one another because it hurts too badly to watch.
Pax swallows me in a hug as Maggie disappears past security. He’s been aloof and absent lately, and I think much of it has been because, like me, he’s feeling too much. He and Candace broke up again, and between my accident and the impending date of Maggie leaving and his football schedule, I can feel his mental exhaustion with just a glance. His chest falls with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick.”
My voice is too garbled to respond, so I hug him closer, reliant on his comfort and support.
“Why don’t we head home? Order some Chinese food before Paxton has to leave for practice.” Mom rubs a hand across my shoulders, and the gesture makes me cry harder. While my mom’s hovered and fussed over every aspect of my life over the past couple of weeks, she’s been absent in all the ways that have mattered, never talking to me about anything other than how I’m feeling and where I’m going.
Paxton’s breathing begins to shudder, and his arms wrap even tighter around my shoulders. He holds me until the pain in my chest stops threatening to destroy me, long enough that the tears dry in sticky paths down my cheeks, making my skin feel tight.
“Can I borrow your car?” I ask Pax.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
I shake my head. “I just need some time.”
His jaw flexes when I finally look high enough to meet his gaze. “Rae…”
“Please?” I ask, cutting him off.
He digs into his pocket, dropping the small wad of keys into my palm.
“I’ll be home soon,” I tell no one in particular, and then I set across the bright white tiles of the SeaTac airport, heading toward the parking lot.