Chapter 45 #2
We sat there for a few moments, completely silent as we looked around.
Each corner of the room held pieces of Ash.
It told the story of the boy he once was, and the man he’d grown up to become.
It was all of him—a blend of his past and present days.
The air carried the faint scent of his cologne, and I breathed it in as his forearm brushed against mine.
I didn’t move it away.
He didn’t move either.
For some reason, sitting in that room felt like peace to me. It held a certain familiarity that I’d only ever experienced with the man who sat beside me. It felt like coming home to a place I was always meant to find.
A few moments later, Ash stood from the bed. I instantly missed his touch.
He walked over to his bookshelf and grabbed a novel entitled The Last Call to You by G. H. Peters. I smirked to myself, reading the title.
Ash held the book out toward me. “You should read this. I’ve read this book at least ten times.
It’s my favorite novel in the whole world.
I read it whenever I’m feeling extremely down and out.
Or whenever I need to remind myself of what life could be if I chose to live in the moment instead of worrying about tomorrow or yesterday. ”
My heartbeat quickened as I took the book from his hands.
I traced my fingers over the cover, feeling my eyes grow teary.
Then I cleared my throat and turned my back toward Ash.
I slowly raised my shirt, showing a tattoo inked down my spine.
It read “In the space between then and someday, we live in the now.” Words from The Last Call to You that changed my life.
It was forever a reminder for me to stay steady, stay grounded, and not allow my mind to spiral.
A shiver of coolness raced through my body as Ash’s fingers traced the letters against my back. I was surprised when his hands met my skin. His touch felt intimate in a way we’d never been before, but I didn’t mind it at all. If anything, I prayed his fingers would linger.
When he pulled away from me, I lowered my shirt and turned back to face him. His breath stuttered, barely noticeable, but I noticed. I noticed every big and little movement that Ash made when he was around me.
A flicker of disbelief flashed across his eyes. “Your favorite, too?”
I nodded. “My favorite, too.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “It’s funny, you know?”
“What’s that?”
“I never believed in destiny until I met you.”
My cheeks colored as I smiled his way. The feeling was very mutual.
After we finished in his bedroom, we walked into the hallway once more.
There was a room across from his. “What room is this?” I asked as I placed my hand on the doorknob.
“No!” Ash shouted. His hand fell against mine, and he pulled me back.
I raised an eyebrow.
He dropped his hold on me as his expression shifted. “Sorry,” he murmured, looking down at the floor.
I knew exactly what had happened.
“Rian’s room?” I asked softly.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Rian’s room.”
I placed a reassuring touch against his arm. “How about we go downstairs and order some food to eat and find a movie to watch?” I offered.
Ash’s whole body relaxed as he brought his stare back to me. His heavy sorrow began to dissipate as he nodded. “Yeah, that’s great.” He paused and gave me a small smile. “Thanks for understanding, Karla. It’s just . . .”
“Hard,” I agreed. “I get it. Grief is always hard.”
“And heavy,” he added. “It’s so fucking heavy.”
I took his hand into mine and gave it a slight squeeze for comfort. “Come on. Let’s go back downstairs.”
His stare fell to my hand in his for a moment. “It gets a little easier when you do things like that. Your touches make it a little easier to breathe.”
I smiled at him. He was slowly letting me back into his world.
We shared a meal together and picked out a comedy to watch to ease up the tension of the night.
Rolls made sure that he received every cuddle possible as he climbed into my lap for the remainder of the film.
Then Ash and I proceeded to keep the conversation light and effortless.
I knew he needed easy that night, and I also knew how big a deal it was for him to invite me into his home.
When it was time for me to leave, he walked me to my car and opened the driver’s door for me. His eyes crinkled softly at the corners, filled with warmth as he wrapped me in a hug. “Thanks for coming over tonight, Karla. This meant a lot to me.”
I grinned as I stayed comfortably in his arms. “Thank you for inviting me in.”
* * *
Even though I loved laughing with Ash, my favorite moments were when we shared intimate and deep conversations.
Ash wasn’t one to talk about hard stuff often, so when he did, it felt as if he was letting me into a secret, exclusive club.
I always wanted to stay there as long as he allowed it, because I wanted to know the secrets that lived in his brain.
Especially the ones that he struggled to talk about.
One night we sat on my rooftop with a bottle of whiskey between us. Ash had had a hard day at work, but he never really talked about the hard days. I could just see the sadness in his eyes when he’d come over after his long shifts.
I never pushed him to talk. I figured he would when he was ready to open up.
“We lost a kid today,” Ash said as he fidgeted with his hands. “He was at a house party and overdosed. His friends didn’t call for help right away, because they were scared they’d get in trouble. If they would’ve called . . . he would’ve probably lived.”
“Geez . . . I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine the kinds of things you see. Isn’t that hard?”
“Yes,” he confessed. “Every day, it’s hard. The other day, we arrived at a suicide of a kid. I haven’t really stopped thinking about that one, and Rian.”
I moved in closer to him. I wanted to ask questions, but I also wanted him to slowly reveal the thoughts in his head. I wanted to be patient with him, because I knew how hard it was for him to open up about the hard things.
He kept talking. I kept listening. He talked about how he only became a paramedic to make his father proud. He said he felt like his best self when he was with me or his basketball guys. He said he was sad more often than not.
That fact made me want to cry.
He told me about his dark struggles that he never told a soul.
That made the tears fall.
“I tried once,” Ash whispered as he looked out toward the city. “To kill myself.”
My heart stopped instantly the moment those words rolled off his tongue. “Ash . . .” I breathed out, my hand gently massaging his arm.
When did he try? Three years ago?
Five years ago?
Maybe ten?
Last month?
When, Ash?
It seemed he could read my thoughts as he replied with his own words.
“It was the day of my father’s funeral. After you left,” he stated as his eyes narrowed and he stared forward but looked as if he was staring straight into nothingness.
“It was the second longest day of my life. One of the two worst days of my life. I don’t know how to explain it, but after we buried my father next to my brother, it felt like they were both so far away.
I sat in the cemetery trying to feel them around me after we tossed dirt on Dad’s grave.
I tried to feel their spirits around me.
Because that’s what people said, you know?
After someone passed away, you could feel them in the wind.
Or hear them whisper. That kind of bullshit.
But I didn’t feel them at all. All I felt was . . . emptiness.”
I knew that feeling way too well. It felt as if you were floating in a pool of ink, and there was nothing and nobody to help pull you out.
Ash cleared his throat and lowered his head. His shoulders dropped, as did his now clasped hands. I hoped the lowered head and rounded shoulders weren’t from him feeling ashamed of his story.
He had no reason to feel ashamed for walking into the darkness. All humans had walked through the same tunnel. Some found the exit easier than others.
Ashish found his way out, and that was nothing to be ashamed of at all.
“So once I went back to my family’s house for the wake, I went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed some pills.
I hurried back to my bedroom and closed the door.
I swallowed the pills. I swallowed so many, choking on them at points.
As I did all this, my mom was downstairs with everyone who showed up to our house.
I wasn’t thinking straight. If I was thinking straight, I would’ve been downstairs.
If I was thinking straight, I would’ve told stories about my father and how amazing he was.
If I was thinking straight . . .” He shook his head.
“No one thinks straight after a loss of a loved one, Ash. For a long time after, our thoughts walk in a frantic pattern of zigzags. Because that’s what death and grief is, a messed-up pile of zigzags trying to somehow return to a once straightened-out mind,” I assured him.
I moved from sitting beside him to sitting in front of him.
I inhaled deeply and released it slowly as I looked up to lock my eyes with him.
“For a long time, our thoughts walked sideways, and that’s OK. So please . . . go on.”
“I guess I started choking on the pills and I panicked. I tried to throw them up, but I couldn’t. That was when someone came into my room and found me. It was Chase . . . he started to force me to throw up. He saved my life.”
I owed Chase a hug the next time I saw him.
“I haven’t tried again, and I wouldn’t. That was just a very hard time for me.” His eyes glassed over.
Mine did, too.
“I’m glad Chase was there to save you that day, Ash. And I’m so grateful that you were there to save me, too.”
“Karla?”
“Yes?”
“My heart kind of skips whenever I think of you.”
His words knocked me backward from his comment. Butterflies. So many butterflies.