Chapter 29 Pieces
twenty-nine
Pieces
My whole body is shaking. I wrap my arms around my shoulders to try to stop, but I can’t.
I’m freezing. The bed is shaking too. My hair is damp with sweat, and my pajamas are clinging to my back.
Even my bed is wet. I need dry clothes. Dry sheets.
I don’t have the strength to get up and help myself.
I hear a tap on the door. I don't know how he heard me, or knew I needed help, but Michael is standing there. “Jess, are you okay?”
I shake my head between shivers. “I can’t get warm.”
He crosses the room in two strides and puts his hand on my head. My bangs are plastered against my forehead. “Your fever is gone. Now you feel cold. We have to get you out of those wet clothes.”
He rummages through my drawers. He sets a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt on my bed. “I’ll be right back.”
I pick up the shirt and pants and shiver out of my wet things. I’m curling back under the covers when Michael comes in with an armload of blankets. He strips the sheets off my bed and throws them in the corner. “Lie down.”
I lie on the bed, and he covers me with the blankets. Even with dry clothes and extra blankets, I’m shaking like crazy. He climbs in next to me, wraps his arms around me and presses his body against mine—holding me against the shaking. His body heat mingles with mine.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod and relax against his chest, soaking in his warmth. He leans his chin on my head and brushes the damp hair out of my face. “Try to sleep.”
I close my eyes and hope for sleep, but without the haze of the fever, the horribleness of everything hits me full force. My heart aches, a gaping bleeding hole. I'm shaking again. Michael pulls me tighter against him.
My mind spins in circles as I try to grasp the reality of my brother’s death.
He’s never coming home. There won’t be a wedding.
He’ll never tease me or give me advice, or drive me crazy again.
I try to remember the last thing I said to him.
The last email I sent. Did I tell him I loved him?
I suddenly want to talk to him, to call him, to hear his voice.
The hole is there, sucking the life out of me. I’m powerless to fill it.
And Gage. Wonderful, obnoxious, full of himself Gage. So alive, so larger than life. Gone. How is it even possible?
Jacob. He must be hurting as much as I am. I want to talk to him. I want to make sure he's okay. But I can't even help myself.
I lie there for a long time, watching the clock advance in slow motion, listening to my breath and feeling Michael’s arms around me. He stirs, moves to get up. He brushes his hand against my cheek. “You seem okay now. The chills are gone. I’ll let you rest.”
I reach for him, suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone in the dark horribleness of this reality. “Please. Don’t go.”
He slides his arms back around me, and I lean my head against his chest. He kisses my forehead. “I’ll stay. Go to sleep. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
Michael is gone when I wake up. I can’t believe I slept so long.
The clock says almost noon. I move around testing my body.
I’m not burning up or freezing anymore. The aches, at least the physical ones, are gone.
I'm weak. My stomach—disconnected and emotionless—rumbles, reminding me I've barely eaten for two days.
The rest of my body has no appetite for anything.
I slide off the edge of my bed, stand and make my way slowly down the hall.
The mirror in the bathroom shows a face I don’t recognize. I’m pale, with dark circles under my eyes. My hair is half-wild, clinging to the side of my face.
On the way back to my room, I stop at Tyler’s door. It's shut tight, but I need to see him. There’s no answer to my soft knock, so I push it open. My brother is lying on his bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, his back to the door.
I take a step inside. “Ty?” He doesn’t answer. I walk into his bedroom and sit down beside him on the bed. I touch his back. “Tyler, it's Jess.”
For a minute he stays still, then slowly he rolls over to face me. He looks just as haggard as the rest of us. “They said you were really sick. That I needed to stay away so I wouldn’t get sick too. I was worried that...” His eyes slide away from my face, losing focus.
“I’m okay.” I leave my hand on his shoulder.
“What about you?” He shakes his head. “You haven’t left this room since Tuesday night?
” He doesn’t answer. He won’t even look at me.
On his dresser is a plate of breakfast, untouched.
I stroke his hair. “Have you eaten anything? You need to eat. You need to...”
“Don’t tell me what I need to do.” The anger in his voice surprises me.
“Don’t tell me I need to keep my strength up.
Don’t tell me what Matt would want me to do.
Don’t tell me that everything will be okay because it won’t.
Not ever again. Matt is gone, blown to pieces.
He’s never coming home.” His shoulders shake with sobs.
I wrap my arms around my baby brother, taller than me now.
I hold him while he cries. I don’t cry. As big as the hole is in my chest, as sharp as the anguish of watching my almost-grown brother reduced to body-wrenching sobs, I can’t cry.
I can only hold him as tight as I can, hoping I can hold the pieces together.