I am so sorry, Grace.
Grief like I hadn’t experienced rolled in. I felt it coming, bubbling up to the surface, and I squeezed my eyelids shut. I couldn’t break down, not there, not in front of them. Later. When I was alone, when it was only Grace and me.
I am so sorry, I thought again.
Then I felt a calming touch and I looked up, but no one was there. Sheila was shaking her head. She didn’t agree with Bryce and Corrigan. They didn’t care. They wanted me at Denton’s house. The news of Guadalupe’s death was already pushed aside. They didn’t want another death. They didn’t want my death. I should’ve been outraged or panicked. I should’ve been something, but I was nothing. All I could feel was Grace.
She was there. That calming touch must’ve been her. And it was the dam breaking. Tears for her started sliding down my face. They kept coming; I couldn’t hold them in.
I sat there crying as everyone bickered.
I don’t know how long it went on. I didn’t make a scene. The tears were silent, and I wasn’t wheezing or sniffling. I didn’t even wipe them away. They formed from my eyes and fell down, sliding all the way down to fall off my chin and onto my arm. It was just Grace and me. That’s all I felt in that moment.
She stayed with me, even after some decision had been made, as someone wiped Kleenex over my face, and when I was led out to a back alley. It was quiet. We had gone somewhere tucked away from everyone else. Well, that wasn’t true. Bryce and Corrigan were with me. I could hear the murmur of voices behind us and knew those were cops.
Then a car slid to a halt in front of us. I registered that it was one of Denton’s cars, but he wasn’t in it. “They called him, and he sent a car, but you’re safe, Sheldon.”
Pain stabbed me. It was like she was there and she was the one reassuring me. I swear I heard her voice.
Then we were moving. We were leaving the police station, but they had cars following us. Bryce and Corrigan were talking to me, to each other; I could hear their concern. I didn’t want to talk to them. I just wanted to talk to Grace. I wanted to tell her, “I’m sorry, Grace.” I mouthed the words as I said them to her.
I imagined her sitting next to me and chuckling. “Only you, Sheldon. You’re told you’re in danger and you’re thinking about me. It wasn’t your fault.”
It was. It was all my fault.
“No, Sheldon.” I imagined that her voice would’ve grown stronger. Firmer. “You listen to me. This was not your fault. This was her fault. She killed me. You did not. Not your fault. Her fault. You got that?” Then she would’ve reached over and squeezed my hand.
I looked down, and my hand fell back on my lap. My fingers lifted and I had my palm upward, like Sheila had done before. She was there for us, and I was here for Grace. I could see her hand fitting into mine. After squeezing it, she would’ve patted it again and said, “It’s not your fault, Sheldon. It’s not your fault.”
I kept hearing her voice. She kept repeating those words even after we got to Denton’s and I walked inside. There was a different feel to the house. I saw my dad there, Beth, Mena, Denton. They were all there and all watching, but this was my time with Grace. I didn’t want any interruptions.
Corrigan asked me, his voice muffled for some reason, “Sheldon, do you need help?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t paralyzed or in shock. I was just . . . protective, of Grace and me. Mostly her. If they came in and demanded me to talk to them, then she would go away. I didn’t want her to go away.
My answer was enough for him. They stayed back, and I walked past everyone. I went to my room and shut the door. Then it really was just Grace and me.
I went to the bed and perched on the edge, then closed my eyes.
I dropped to the floor. It wasn’t a graceful slide or a slow descent. I was on the bed, then on the floor the next second.
“Oh, Sheldon.”
Grace dropped down next to me, and she pressed her hands to mine, leaning forward. I could hear her voice crooning in my ear. The tears had come back, and they progressed to sobbing. I couldn’t do anything to hold them back, and I started to rock back and forth.
“I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry.”
“Sheldon.” She adjusted her position so she was sitting cross-legged right in front of me. She scooted even closer, moving my hands so they were in her lap. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because it is my fault.”
“It is not. I’ve said it before. You refuse to listen, so snap out of it.” Her voice rose, and I jerked my head up.
She was watching me back, a storm forming in her blue eyes. Then she said, softly, but with authority, “I made my own decisions. I opened the door and let her in. Me. That’s on me. I offered her wine. I wanted to cry on her shoulder. I wanted to talk to someone, and she was there. I knew it wasn’t right. It was in her eye. She wasn’t there, not in the right way, but I didn’t care. It was me. I didn’t want to die, but I am. I’m dead now. You’re not.”
I started to shake my head. This wasn’t about me. I didn’t need a pep talk. I wanted to mourn my friend. I hadn’t mourned her yet.
“You’ve said your goodbyes.” Grace kept going. “I’ve heard them, in your heart. I know how torn up you are. I know how much pain you hold in. I understand more now than ever. You’ve been hurt so much so you lash out first to protect yourself. I get it. I do. And this is my time to apologize to you.”
I shook my head. She didn’t have to apologize. She already had. She had done nothing wrong.
She spoke anyway, “I abandoned you. You warned me about those girls. That they were only using me to get to you, and I chose them over you. Then I hurt you. I did what they wanted me to do, and it wasn’t worth it. Hurting another person is never worth it. For that,” her own tears were falling free, “I am so sorry. I was going to make it right between us. I was going make everything right and I was going to win back your trust. That was my plan. I missed you. I missed our friendship. I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m the one who is apologizing to you. Please forgive me, Sheldon. Please—”
A high-pitched voice, one edging close to the line of hysteria, laughed above my head.
I looked up, anger stirring. She had sent Grace away. A snarl formed on my lips. I didn’t care who this person was. Grace was gone. She’d been there, but vanished at the interruption. “Go awa—”
Grief like I hadn’t experienced rolled in. I felt it coming, bubbling up to the surface, and I squeezed my eyelids shut. I couldn’t break down, not there, not in front of them. Later. When I was alone, when it was only Grace and me.
I am so sorry, I thought again.
Then I felt a calming touch and I looked up, but no one was there. Sheila was shaking her head. She didn’t agree with Bryce and Corrigan. They didn’t care. They wanted me at Denton’s house. The news of Guadalupe’s death was already pushed aside. They didn’t want another death. They didn’t want my death. I should’ve been outraged or panicked. I should’ve been something, but I was nothing. All I could feel was Grace.
She was there. That calming touch must’ve been her. And it was the dam breaking. Tears for her started sliding down my face. They kept coming; I couldn’t hold them in.
I sat there crying as everyone bickered.
I don’t know how long it went on. I didn’t make a scene. The tears were silent, and I wasn’t wheezing or sniffling. I didn’t even wipe them away. They formed from my eyes and fell down, sliding all the way down to fall off my chin and onto my arm. It was just Grace and me. That’s all I felt in that moment.
She stayed with me, even after some decision had been made, as someone wiped Kleenex over my face, and when I was led out to a back alley. It was quiet. We had gone somewhere tucked away from everyone else. Well, that wasn’t true. Bryce and Corrigan were with me. I could hear the murmur of voices behind us and knew those were cops.
Then a car slid to a halt in front of us. I registered that it was one of Denton’s cars, but he wasn’t in it. “They called him, and he sent a car, but you’re safe, Sheldon.”
Pain stabbed me. It was like she was there and she was the one reassuring me. I swear I heard her voice.
Then we were moving. We were leaving the police station, but they had cars following us. Bryce and Corrigan were talking to me, to each other; I could hear their concern. I didn’t want to talk to them. I just wanted to talk to Grace. I wanted to tell her, “I’m sorry, Grace.” I mouthed the words as I said them to her.
I imagined her sitting next to me and chuckling. “Only you, Sheldon. You’re told you’re in danger and you’re thinking about me. It wasn’t your fault.”
It was. It was all my fault.
“No, Sheldon.” I imagined that her voice would’ve grown stronger. Firmer. “You listen to me. This was not your fault. This was her fault. She killed me. You did not. Not your fault. Her fault. You got that?” Then she would’ve reached over and squeezed my hand.
I looked down, and my hand fell back on my lap. My fingers lifted and I had my palm upward, like Sheila had done before. She was there for us, and I was here for Grace. I could see her hand fitting into mine. After squeezing it, she would’ve patted it again and said, “It’s not your fault, Sheldon. It’s not your fault.”
I kept hearing her voice. She kept repeating those words even after we got to Denton’s and I walked inside. There was a different feel to the house. I saw my dad there, Beth, Mena, Denton. They were all there and all watching, but this was my time with Grace. I didn’t want any interruptions.
Corrigan asked me, his voice muffled for some reason, “Sheldon, do you need help?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t paralyzed or in shock. I was just . . . protective, of Grace and me. Mostly her. If they came in and demanded me to talk to them, then she would go away. I didn’t want her to go away.
My answer was enough for him. They stayed back, and I walked past everyone. I went to my room and shut the door. Then it really was just Grace and me.
I went to the bed and perched on the edge, then closed my eyes.
I dropped to the floor. It wasn’t a graceful slide or a slow descent. I was on the bed, then on the floor the next second.
“Oh, Sheldon.”
Grace dropped down next to me, and she pressed her hands to mine, leaning forward. I could hear her voice crooning in my ear. The tears had come back, and they progressed to sobbing. I couldn’t do anything to hold them back, and I started to rock back and forth.
“I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry.”
“Sheldon.” She adjusted her position so she was sitting cross-legged right in front of me. She scooted even closer, moving my hands so they were in her lap. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because it is my fault.”
“It is not. I’ve said it before. You refuse to listen, so snap out of it.” Her voice rose, and I jerked my head up.
She was watching me back, a storm forming in her blue eyes. Then she said, softly, but with authority, “I made my own decisions. I opened the door and let her in. Me. That’s on me. I offered her wine. I wanted to cry on her shoulder. I wanted to talk to someone, and she was there. I knew it wasn’t right. It was in her eye. She wasn’t there, not in the right way, but I didn’t care. It was me. I didn’t want to die, but I am. I’m dead now. You’re not.”
I started to shake my head. This wasn’t about me. I didn’t need a pep talk. I wanted to mourn my friend. I hadn’t mourned her yet.
“You’ve said your goodbyes.” Grace kept going. “I’ve heard them, in your heart. I know how torn up you are. I know how much pain you hold in. I understand more now than ever. You’ve been hurt so much so you lash out first to protect yourself. I get it. I do. And this is my time to apologize to you.”
I shook my head. She didn’t have to apologize. She already had. She had done nothing wrong.
She spoke anyway, “I abandoned you. You warned me about those girls. That they were only using me to get to you, and I chose them over you. Then I hurt you. I did what they wanted me to do, and it wasn’t worth it. Hurting another person is never worth it. For that,” her own tears were falling free, “I am so sorry. I was going to make it right between us. I was going make everything right and I was going to win back your trust. That was my plan. I missed you. I missed our friendship. I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m the one who is apologizing to you. Please forgive me, Sheldon. Please—”
A high-pitched voice, one edging close to the line of hysteria, laughed above my head.
I looked up, anger stirring. She had sent Grace away. A snarl formed on my lips. I didn’t care who this person was. Grace was gone. She’d been there, but vanished at the interruption. “Go awa—”
