36. EVERYTHING EXCEPT GOODBYE
EVERYTHING EXCEPT GOODBYE
It’s been a long fucking day, and I’m exhausted.
But I still go back to my penthouse and pack a bag, replacing the dirty clothes I’ve been wearing at Kenneth’s apartment.
The place that feels like home now. This place feels like a closet at this point.
I don’t spend any time here, and I don’t want to.
I hurry up and pack, mostly because Ken asked me to.
He said there’s something urgent he wants to talk about, and that makes me even more nervous.
The thought of him breaking up with me crosses my mind, making me feel sick, but then I remember he asked me to pack enough clothes for a week at the very least. If he wanted to break up with me, he wouldn’t want me to stay.
So I take a deep breath and shake my head, effectively telling my brain to be quiet and focus on the task at hand.
My phone rings, and it’s my boss’s name on the screen. I’m tempted to ignore it, but he never calls me. So I take a deep breath and answer, my hands shaking, even though I’m not entirely sure why.
“Moore,” I say when I answer, then hold my breath.
“Yes, Mr. Moore.” Duncan, my boss, says. “I was going to talk to you after work today, but you seemed to be in a rush.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you needed me, sir.” My voice shakes almost as hard as my hands. Why am I shaking like this? “I apologize. How can I help you?”
“There’s this convention in New York I really need you to go to next week.” My blood freezes in my veins, and I swear my heart stops beating. “I—”
“Can you ask someone else?” My voice is small, and it trembles violently.
I can barely get the words out. Because I know what this means.
I can see the fucking signs. The same dates are looming.
The same work trip. The impending crash.
The way I die. No, not again. Not this time. “I don’t really think—”
“No, Mr. Moore.” Duncan sighs. “You’re the man for the job. You know the position inside and out, and there’s no one else who does. This will also set you up for that promotion.”
Fuck the promotion!
I just want to live.
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “I’ll think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about,” he replies. “You’re going. The hotel has already been booked. You leave on Tuesday.”
It’s fucking Wednesday.
Do I really only have six days left of this life? I haven’t said everything I need to say to Kenneth. Haven’t had enough time by his side. But I know one thing for certain: no amount of time will ever be enough.
“Understood.” I swallow hard, hoping my reply is enough to get him off the phone so I can think.
It is.
He says his farewells and wishes me a good rest of my day, but that seems like an impossible task now. There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to sleep for the next six days. The anxiety alone will put me in the ground. I don’t think I can do this. No, I know I can’t.
My hands begin to sweat and shake even harder, and my chest tightens until it feels like I’m having a heart attack.
But I’m not. This feeling is familiar now—it’s the same one from the hospital.
I’m having a fucking panic attack. So I let myself fall to the floor and press my face between my legs, trying to calm my breathing, but it seems I’m meant to hyperventilate for the rest of my life.
No amount of trying is helping. Which triggers tears.
And sobs. And snot. My chest feels like it’s on fire now.
I hate when this happens; it makes me feel so fucking weak.
These panic attacks only make my emotions feel out of whack.
Like I’m not in control of my mind or body. It’s horrible. I hate it.
I’m not sure how long it takes me to calm down, but eventually, my sobs turn to whimpers, and I’m able to get in a full breath.
My chest and ribs stop hurting, and I wipe the snot and tears from my face with the bottom of my shirt.
I need to get my shit together before I go to Kenneth’s place.
He can’t see me like this. He’ll wonder what the hell is going on, and I haven’t figured out how to say this to him.
Because how do I explain what happened? How do you tell someone something that sounds this insane?
I don’t think you do. I think I’m meant to take it to my grave.
But how many fucking graves will I take it to before I’m off this damn ride?
That’s the real question. I have a feeling this is not my first rodeo.
I change my shirt and finish packing, then blow my nose and wash my face.
It’s a whole hour before I’m leaving my penthouse, and another ten minutes before I’m standing in front of Kenny’s apartment door.
I raise my hand to knock and then lower it again.
The hesitation stems from fear. I know that.
But what am I scared of? Surely everything is okay right now.
So I make myself knock, and not even two seconds later, Ken opens the door with a wide smile. It falls quickly.
“Baby?” Kenneth steps forward and brushes his thumb under my swollen eye. “What’s wrong?”
I clear my throat. “I, um. I’m okay, Ken. Just had a rough day, is all.”
He nods. “I’ll make it better. But you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”
I try to smile, but my lips just won’t curve up. “I know,” I lie.
“I don’t know if this is the best time for our talk…” Kenneth trails off. “You look like you need to be fed and put to bed.”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “I need to know what’s going on. I won’t be able to sleep unless you tell me.”
Kenneth takes my hand and leads me into the apartment, then closes the door.
I drop my bag next to the couch, and then he’s pulling me into the kitchen and in front of the island.
A sense of déjà vu I’ve fought so hard against washes over me, and I feel the tendrils of panic wrapping around my bones.
“I have something for you,” Ken says, and I exhale sharply. He smiles, clearly unaware of my mental breakdown happening right about now. “Here you go.”
There’s a black and flat box he pushes towards me, and I frown. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
My hands tremble as I grab the box, holding my breath while my eyes meet his. He frowns but nods, and then I exhale shakily as I lift the lid. There’s a set of keys in it, identical to the ones I had in a past life. Same keychain. Same engraving. The night you said I love you.
I frown.
“It felt right,” he whispers. “I’m not sure why. But it called to me, and it looked perfect for you.”
“You did good, baby,” I whisper back, tears threatening to escape my eyes. I breathe through it. There’s a toothbrush in the black box right next to the keys. “What are you asking?”
Kenneth smiles softly. “Will you move in with me?”
There’s a knot in my throat I can’t swallow past, no matter how much I try, and I must be taking a long time to reply because he’s starting to look panicked. So I nod, still trying to swallow.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Yes,” I finally reply, and he flies into my arms and peppers my cheeks with kisses. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathe against his lips, then kiss him like it’s the last time. I’m going to cherish every single kiss from now until I die.
“I love you too,” Kenneth replies, chuckling against my lips, hands tangling in my hair.
I wrap him up in my arms tightly. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to let go. I don’t think I’ll be able to. “I need to make a phone call real quick,” I tell him, and he frowns. “Just work. My boss called earlier.”
“Oh.” Kenneth tries to smile, but it’s clear he’s disappointed that I’m interrupting this moment to call my boss. But I can’t wait. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll wait here.”
I nod and go to the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.
My legs carry me across the length of the room over and over, covering the same space without stopping.
It’s hard to pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up his contact information, and it’s even harder to dial and wait for him to pick up.
What do I even say? What’s going to be my excuse? How am I—
“This is Duncan.” My boss answers, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Uh, Duncan. This is Conrad,” I breathe shakily, and he hums. “I need to talk to you real quick. If that’s okay?”
“Sure,” he says slowly. “What’s going on?”
“Listen, I know I said I could go to New York, but I really can’t do it.” My body locks up tight, ready for a fight, but he stays quiet. “Remember back in May when I got into that car accident?”
Duncan clears his throat. “Yes, I do.”
“I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety from it…” I wait for him to interrupt, but he stays quiet. “It’s been really hard to drive long distances. And I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think I can do it. I really don’t.”
“I see,” Duncan says slowly. “I understand, Conrad. I’m sorry for being insensitive. I should’ve thought of that.”
“You—” I stop abruptly, not expecting him to say that. “Really?”
“Of course,” he scoffs. “I’m not trying to put you in a position to choose between your job and your mental health. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find someone else. Do you think Natasha would be a good fit?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, sir. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s very responsible.”
“Great. Then it’s decided, she’ll take over this trip.” His voice is steady and reassuring, but I still can’t help but feel queasy. “Oh, and Conrad? This won’t affect your promotion. So don’t worry about that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You take care of yourself, okay?” Duncan murmurs. “You tell me if you need anything.”
“I will,” I say softly. “Thank you, sir.”
“Have a good night, Conrad.”
“You too.”
The line goes dead, and I lower my cell phone to my side, taking in deep gulps of breath.
I hear footsteps behind me and tense, and my hands begin shaking so hard my phone clatters to the ground.
I make no move to get it. Instead, I wait for Kenneth to come in and ask his questions.
I’m sure he was listening in, and I don’t want to lie to him.
But I also don’t know how he’ll react if I tell him the truth.
“You’re hiding something, Conrad,” Kenneth says softly. “What’s going on?”
I stay quiet, unsure how to proceed. Do I tell him? What if—
“You need to tell me what’s wrong. Right now,” Kenneth says more forcefully. “You’re scaring me.”
“S-sorry,” I stutter. “I’m not trying to scare you.”
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
I shake my head and turn around. “You’re never going to believe me.” Our eyes meet, and his narrow. “I’m scared you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
I break. Shatter, really.
Running a hand down my face, a sob breaks free, and he closes the distance between us.
His hands cup my face. “I died.” My voice cracks, and he frowns, still looking into my eyes.
He looks so confused, and I know I sound insane.
“I lived a life with you, and I died. I woke up without you… I-I was in a car accident in December. The date is supposed to be in six days. But I died, and I woke up, and it was May—and you didn’t know me.
You didn’t fucking know me, Ken. And I’ve been hiding this, this huge thing, from you because I didn’t know what to tell you. And I…” I shake my head. “I—”
Kenneth’s hands tighten on my face, and he’s looking at me funny. His eyes are searching mine so quickly, it’s making me dizzy. I’d be surprised if he’s not making himself dizzy with it, too.
He shakes his head. “Conrad, that can’t be right.
” I make a strangled sound, and his hands drop from my face.
He takes a step back. I feel the loss of his touch in my fucking soul.
“I-I’m so sorry. Do you—do you think you’re not…
I think maybe—” Ken takes a deep breath and tries again, his voice breaking. “I think maybe you need help.”
A sob breaks free, hurting my throat. “You don’t believe me.” I nod quickly, then shake my head just as quickly.
“It sounds—”
“I know how it sounds!” I snap, and when he flinches, I close my eyes and breathe in. “I’m s-sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”
Ken’s bottom lip trembles, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even fucking breathe.
“I can’t go through it again,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t lose you again.”
“I-I need to go,” Ken says. “I need some time.”
“No, wait.” I shake my head. “W-wait please don’t go. Please. No, don’t go.” It sounds pretty close to begging, and Ken’s face scrunches up as if he’s in pain. It feels like someone’s stabbing me in the heart repeatedly.
“I have to.” His breath catches. “I’m sorry.”
Kenneth turns around and starts walking quickly out of the room.
I chase him. Of course I do. I always will.
“I thought you loved me!” I yell after him, stopping in my tracks to watch him put on his shoes in the living room.
It feels like he’s taking something vital with him if he leaves me here. “You said you’d never leave me!”
He sobs, wiping at his tears furiously. “I do love you.”
I shake my head. “Then don’t go,” I whisper, voice broken. Shredded. Raw. “Don’t leave me, baby. Please.”
Ken’s bottom lip trembles violently, and he takes a deep breath.
Then another. And another. I watch his face go through a myriad of emotions, waiting him out.
A tear falls down his cheek, and this time he doesn’t wipe it.
Instead, he sniffles and looks down at his shoes.
And then he turns around, leaving me standing there in the middle of the living room, looking at the door closing quietly behind him. He didn’t even make a sound as he left.
But the way my heart is breaking is louder than a gunshot.