29. The Present
The Present
Carla
“I’m starting to get nervous.”
I glance at the time before sending another text to Kimmie. It goes unanswered, like my previous texts and calls.
TJ’s pacing his office like a caged animal. “Tell me one more time what she said at the nail salon.”
“We got our nails done. I said I had to go back to work for a few hours. I told her to meet me here at five. She said okay. She seemed excited.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What are you thinking?”
TJ rakes a hand through his hair for the tenth time, pulling at the ends. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
I stand from the chair in front of his desk and grip his shoulders. “Stop pacing. Please. I need you to talk to me.”
His eyes slam shut, like it pains him to say the words aloud. “I think something’s wrong. We should go to her house.”
“I have her address on file.” I run out of his office and return in seconds with Kimmie’s file.
TJ types the address into his phone and grabs my hand.
Without a word, we climb into his truck. TJ follows his GPS and in ten minutes, he pulls off the main road. Gravel crunches under his tires while we search for Kimmie’s mobile home.
“There!” I point out my window and fling off my seatbelt.
TJ’s hand wraps around my wrist. “Carla, I need you to wait here.”
“No way. I’m coming with you.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what we’re walking into. I’d rather you stayed in the truck.”
“I said I’m coming with you.” I yank free from his grasp and hop out of the truck.
TJ beats me to the door and knocks. “Kimmie? Are you in there?”
I cup my hands around my eyes as I squint through the window. “There’s a light on, but I can’t see anything.”
His knocks turn to pounds. “Kimmie! It’s TJ. Open up!”
I push past him and try the doorknob. The door swings open, but I remain frozen where I stand. Closing my eyes, I inhale a shaky breath.
“I’ll go in first,” TJ says.
The lights are on in the kitchen, but nobody’s there. Two bowls with milk sit on the kitchen table beside an opened box of cereal.
I follow TJ into the narrow hallway. There’s not much space, and he looks like a giant.
“Kimmie?” I call. “Are you here? We have to get you ready for the dance tonight.” My hands are shaking. The deafening sound of blood pounding in my ears fills the eerie silence.
The bathroom door is open, but empty.
TJ points to the bedrooms. “Let’s check this one first. Stay behind me.”
I nod, hoping my face looks braver than I feel. Holding my breath, I count to three while TJ’s turns the knob.
One.
Two.
Three.
It’s dark inside. I feel around for the light switch, but when it flips on, it reveals nothing. One room left.
TJ opens the door and light spills out into the hallway. He’s blocking my view, unmoving, hand still holding onto the doorknob. Several seconds tick by before he rushes into the room.
I watch as he drops to the floor.
I watch as he checks for a pulse.
I watch as he stands and stalks over to the dresser.
It’s like there’s a delay between what I’m seeing and what’s actually happening. There must be, because I’m unable to react. Unable to move. Unable to process what I’m witnessing.
The crash of the dresser flipping over snaps me out of my freeze frame. Drawers open, clothes spilling out onto the floor. TJ drops back down and cradles Kimmie in his arms, rocking her back and forth.
A pile of what looks like lumpy oatmeal sits on the carpet beside them. A needle gleams in the light.
It all hits me at once. My hands cover my mouth as my knees buckle.
“Call 911.” TJ’s voice is low.
“Is she … is …” The words are caught in my throat. I don’t want to ask.
Tears stream down TJ’s cheeks as he presses his lips to the top of Kimmie’s head. “She’s gone.”
“No. She can’t … she can’t be. We have to get ready for the dance.”
TJ’s eyes meet mine, apologetic and filled with sorrow. “She’s gone, Carla. We’re too late.”
I reach for Kimmie’s arm and press two fingers to her wrist. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for a pulse. I wait and I wait, willing the feeling of even the faintest twitch. But nothing comes. Her skin already feels cool to the touch.
“No,” I say between sobs. “No.”
TJ lays her body gently on the carpet and caresses her hair. Then his arms are around me.
“No.” It’s the only word I can muster. How can this be? How can Kimmie be dead? I just saw her at the nail salon. She was fine. Everything was fine. How did this happen?
I bury my face in TJ’s chest, hot tears soaking his shirt.
“I need to call the police. Do you want to wait in the truck?”
I shake my head. “How … what happened?”
TJ sucks in a staggered breath and slips his phone out of his pocket. “Sometimes, when you use heroin, it makes you sick. It looks like she passed out on her back, threw up, and … she choked.” His gaze drops to his phone as he dials.
I crawl to Kimmie and hold her head in my lap. Moisture wells in my eyes and the tears roll off my cheeks, dripping into her golden hair. I glance at her perfectly manicured nails and choke back a sob. She was supposed to be dancing tonight. Laughing. Having fun. She’s just a kid. Had her whole life in front of her. How can her life be over?
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, but I don’t have the courage to answer it. I know it’s Mallory checking in. How am I going to break this news to her and Charlotte? They’re going to be devastated.
I’m devastated.
My watery eyes drift to TJ. He’s devastated too.
His head hangs, staring at the phone long after he ended the call. His heart is breaking. I can see it all over his face. Feel it rolling off him in waves of grief. He feels responsible.
I know this because I feel the same.
It’s latewhen we pull in front of the gym.
TJ and I haven’t spoken a word since we left Kimmie’s house. The only time he let go of my hand was when we climbed into his truck. He held my hand when the police arrived. He held my hand as the coroner zippered Kimmie into the black bag. He held my hand as he drove. He held my hand while I called Mallory. It’s almost as if he’s afraid I’ll float away, like a balloon on a string when you release it.
Or maybe he’s the balloon. Holding onto me grounds him, keeps him from disappearing into the atmosphere. Either way, I’m gripping his hand just as tight.
He doesn’t ask me to stay the night. He doesn’t have to. I won’t leave him alone tonight.
We enter the gym and shuffle up the stairs into his apartment. Stripping off our clothes in silence, we lay on the bed facing each other. My lids are heavy and swollen, yet the tears continue to fall. TJ strokes my cheek with his thumb, gazing through my eyes and penetrating my soul.
Sometime after midnight, I ask, “Is this my fault?”
“No, Carla. How could you ever think that?”
“I was the last one to see her. I didn’t notice anything wrong. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been there for her.”
TJ draws me closer, stroking my face, my hair. “You need to understand that this had nothing to do with you. This did not happen because of anything you did or didn’t do. Kimmie was an addict, and sometimes this is what happens to addicts.”
“Could this happen to you?”
“It won’t.”
My lower lip trembles. The more I try to imagine my life without TJ in it, the more impossible it becomes. “I don’t want this to happen to you.”
TJ opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “No. Please. Promise me you’ll tell me if you need help. Promise me I won’t ever find you like … like that. Please.”
“Shhh. It’s okay.” TJ envelops me in his arms, pressing my cheek against his bare chest. “That won’t ever be me. Don’t worry your pretty head about that.”
“I need you to promise me.” I lift my chin to look into his eyes. “Promise me you’ll talk to me if you need help.”
“I promise.” His nose nuzzles the tip of mine. “Even though I don’t deserve your help.”
“You deserve everything good in this world.”
TJ’s cradles my face and presses his soft, plump lips to mine.
We fall asleep soon after.