Our Last Time: A Novel (2 page)

“We have to say it eventually, Willow,” he told me.

“Not yet,” I argued.

He was going to have his way in the end. It couldn’t be any other way. I couldn’t try to make it any other way. He gave me another hour, because he wanted to. He was stronger than I was.

“Hello,” he said.

I wasn’t ready. I never would’ve been. I said it for him, because he needed to hear it. “Hello,” I whispered. I had started crying after a few beats of silence, because I became
so
excruciatingly sad.

Silence was what I would hear. Silence would be
everywhere
after Kennedy. It made me sad.

He held me, my head still resting on his chest. I sobbed as his heartbeat quickened. I couldn’t stop crying.

He rubbed my back up until I was mildly sniffling. Tears were barely leaking then. I had been nearly dry at that point.

He hadn’t said anything.

I hadn’t said anything.

I curled up on the large bean bag as he got up to dress himself.

He had walked over to me and dressed me. He struggled with my bra, and I just shoved it off after his second try. I hadn’t had to wear a bra, and he silently agreed. He
sighed
, but he hadn’t said anything.

I was fully clothed, wearing my shirt and my cutoff shorts when he kissed me one last time on the lips, then on the forehead before walking out of our home without saying anything.

That was our last time saying Hello.

I couldn’t get up and convince him to stay. If he stayed any longer, he’d never want to leave. He’d eventually not have the strength to leave.

I knew Kennedy better than I knew anyone else.

He wanted me to remember him as Kennedy, not this dried up eighteen-year-old boy lying on his death bed. I understood his purpose, and I respected it.

I’d be broken in the end either way.

It had been better watching him willingly walk away, than to witness his soul being taken from him too soon.

I had to be as strong as he was and fight the urge to be weak.

I just loved him and it was hard.

It’d take me a while before I could grasp my own purpose, and he knew that. The fact that he believed in me was what would keep me going. I’d be okay again someday.

Willow

I ran my fingers down
his chest, tracing the ridge between his pecks, and down over his nipple. He made a sound deep and low in his throat, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

I snuck into his bed, and he seemed completely okay with that.

He was on his back and I was now straddling him, my knees on either side of his body. I knew he was naked as I undressed, stepping in the shadows of his dark bedroom. He hadn’t seen me, and I hadn’t realized he was awake. I was prepared to wake him up.

He was bare, and warm between my legs. When I pushed down on him, he groaned my name.

“Willow.”

He hadn’t expected me to come over tonight, but I was in bad shape. I needed some meaningless sex, and he was the only one who filled that void, now.

I savored the feeling of his length filling me up, and I screwed him - my words silent.

His hands slid up the sides of my waist to my chest, and he kneaded my breasts, his thumbs grazing my nipples. I began to let go of everything, and I abandoned myself to the sensation of being with a man I hadn’t loved, riding him as I got higher.

I was so close, and he grabbed my waist tighter as his hands pushed me down on him hard. His thrusts became shorter and more frequent.

"Willow," he said. "I’m going to come."

I was on the edge, so close to relief. But like he had done many other times in the past, he came before I had the chance to.

I sighed, completely annoyed as I rolled off of him. I landed on the opposite side of his bed on my back as he took a deep breath, his hand glued to his chest.

“Damn,” he said. “Did you come?”

“
Mhmm
,” I lied. I hadn’t felt like getting lapped up tonight. I was ready to leave.

“Good,” he yawned. “Night, Willow,” he concluded, before yanking the bedsheets over himself, and turning on his side away from me.

“Night, Zane.”

I dragged my ass out of his bed immediately.

“Lock the door on your way out,” he mumbled huskily, before grabbing a pillow to suffocate his face with.

“I always do,” I said under my breath, rolling my eyes.

I had a key to his place. I wasn’t exactly proud of that. Zane had been just an occasional thing, nothing serious. I was starting to get sick of him and his skills, or lack thereof. His timing was off
every time
, and I hated that.

I grabbed my cotton panties and shoved my legs through the holes. I wore a sports bra under my scrubs today, along with a compressed long-sleeved shirt.

I was fully dressed in seconds, already walking out of Zane’s apartment in a mild huff. I’d get so frustrated when I was unsatisfied. I was pathetic.

I sat in my Jetta, letting out a sigh. I needed to call Caitlyn now. I’d been out for too long. I pressed the phone to my ear, waiting for her voice.

“Hello?” she answered after five rings.

“It’s Willow. I was just calling to let you know I’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” I said sweetly.

“Okay, great!” She was cheerful, which soothed me. “Annette crashed a few hours ago,” she added.

My chest tightened, and I smiled. “That’s good, I’m glad she’s getting some rest,” I sighed. “See you in a few.”

“Alright, see you.”

I ended the call, and then cranked my car up. My apartment wasn’t far, but even the short distance of silence would get to me. I turned the radio on, trying to fix my sudden discomfort.

The song that played through the speakers yelled at me - it was Screamo music. I turned it off faster than I turned it on, and rubbed my temple with my free hand.

I missed Kennedy today. I missed him
a lot
today.

I bit my bottom lip, and I watched every streetlight I passed.

I moved to Chicago the day after our final Hello. I stayed here. When I was eighteen years old, I had lost someone I loved deeply. I had also given a life to someone I loved deeply. Kennedy and I
both
did.

I was raising my eight-year-old daughter, Annette, with the help of my roommate. Caitlyn had been my roommate since college. She wasn’t the father figure Annette needed, but she helped a lot. She was an aunt to Annette. I hadn’t known what I’d do without her.

Being pregnant, scared, and lost in the worst kind of way at only eighteen years old - I was hibernating in my dorm for most days. I hadn’t realized just how broken I really was.

When I arrived to Kennedy’s funeral showing off a stomach that wasn’t flat, everyone that knew me had known what had happened. After the service, Kennedy’s mom, Trace, grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. She was worried, and I was broken. She could tell, and she wanted to protect me in ways her son couldn’t anymore.

I told her I was fine, and I told her the baby wasn’t Kennedy’s. I told my parents I hadn’t known who the father was, and they had been disappointed.

I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. Trace reminded me of Kennedy, and it made me sad. I hadn’t wanted to be sad anymore. I wanted to hide.

I’d been too bottled up in my head to call them up and to tell them I had been lying. Trace Danes hadn’t known she was a grandmother. My parents hadn’t known that Annette would never have her father.

Annette had grown older, more and more each day. She reminded me more and more of
him
each day. It made me sad sometimes, and I wouldn’t know what to do. She’d ask me about her daddy, and I wouldn’t know what to say.

Her daddy died before she was born. He couldn’t have been saved. He was dying when I expressed my love for the first time with him. I was reckless and had put her in a world when I knew she wouldn’t have a father. It hadn’t been on purpose, but it also hadn’t been a mistake.

I loved my baby and I was glad I had her. But she wouldn’t be like other kids. She wouldn’t have a father and I wouldn’t have the man I loved more than myself. We would deal with loss on a daily basis, because he wouldn’t be here.

That would be hard for her to swallow once she came of age to understand. I was dreading the moment would happen. I was terrified my child would turn against me once she realized she had a person to blame.

I took a deep breath as I claimed my designated parking space across from my apartment.

I was a registered nurse now. I worked part-time at the smaller hospital near the apartments. Annette would tell me I saved lives, but that wasn’t quite true. I helped sick people and I would attempt to make their day brighter by talking to them. But I hadn’t
saved
any patients. Some died, and some had taken longer than usual to heal. Typically, they’d heal as expected. My help hadn’t ever changed the process.

Patient’s had functioned the way they would have without me. I was just an aid to their survival. I wasn’t their cure.

I loved my job, and it helped me in a way. I knew I’d never get over Kennedy’s death, but being a nurse and dealing with the death of patients had helped me cope with my own demons in life. I was slowly becoming more stable, but I had my weak days.

Today
was a weak day. The sixteenth of August had always been a weak day.

I had gotten out of my car and grabbed my workbag before hoisting it over my shoulder. I started walking towards my apartment and could see Caitlyn on our balcony as she heavily puffed on a cigarette. She must not have been getting any sleep tonight. She had seen me making my way towards the front door, and she put her cigarette out in the ashtray before walking inside of the apartment.

I locked the door once I was in, and then turned to walk up the opening staircase.

There was our living room which was a decent size, and our kitchen was on the left wall past the living room. We had three medium-sized bedrooms on the right wall past the kitchen, and also two bathrooms. I had the master bedroom, but Annette and I shared my bathroom.

Caitlyn’s bathroom was on the left side of the hall across from the two bedrooms closest to the kitchen.

We had minimal decorations within the place, but plenty of famous mock-paintings and a few family portraits of our own. We were
technically
family.

Our furniture was nice and our TV was big. I enjoyed watching cable after work.

I wanted to sit on our black leather couch and stretch my legs over the coffee table. I wanted to hide under a soft blanket while watching some random movie I’d probably seen before.

It was an every-weekend routine, unless Annette was awake. But I stayed out past my shift, and now it was almost Thursday. I had also relied on my roommate to take care of my kid while I had a mini-relapse. I had lost my grasp on reality.

It was almost twelve o’clock in the morning and I had to take Annette to school at eight. It’d be her first day of third grade. I had to go to work at nine, right after dropping her off. It was honestly too late to watch TV.

Caitlyn walked from the kitchen to where I was standing. I was about to lunge my workbag off my shoulder, and onto the floor when she cleared her throat to catch my attention. She hitched her red eyebrow at me as I paused to look at her face.

“Why do you look like you’ve had a rough night?” she asked me in a whisper.

“Because I have,” I replied.

She hadn’t known what day it was at first. I watched as she sighed and realization met her face.

I nodded before quietly placing my bag on the floor next to the couch so I could sink my ass in the cushions. I wanted to relax.

She whiffed the air around me as she walked closer, like she had smelt something bad. “What’s that smell?”

I narrowed my eyes at her as I perched over the armrest to watch her eyebrows as they scrunched together in my direction. “I screwed Zane before coming home. I probably need a shower.”

“Ew,” she groaned.

“
What?
” I protested. 

“He’s hot, I’ll give you that. But the guy doesn’t know how to treat you,” she sighed. Her dark green eyes crinkled at the sides. “And I don’t think he knows how to wash his dick, either. I’m sorry, Willow, but he made you smell like the worst kind of sex. I’m tempted to throw your ass in the tub myself, and wash you clean.”

Her bright red hair was held up with chopsticks on the top of her head and she had already taken off her makeup for the night. She was wearing her silver-speckled night gown, and I felt less and less clean as she continued to stare at me with that disapproving look in her eyes. Caitlyn was a neat-freak, but I hadn’t liked being told I smelt bad by
anyone
. I stood up from the couch, rolling my eyes.

“Your message has been heard. I’m going to take a shower and maybe soak for a while. I need to clear my head, anyway,” I said to her, before walking off towards my bedroom.

“I love you, Willow. Sorry for being blunt,” she said to my back, her tone soft and apologetic.

I looked over my shoulder and mouthed, “I love you, too,” before heading to the shower to wash my unfortunate night away.