Angel Fever

15

SAM CALLED AHEAD WITH THE news. When we got back to the base, Seb and Liz were in the garage, waiting. All my senses were huddled inward, but I could still feel Seb’s concern – how desperate he was to help me.

“Willow…” he began hoarsely as I got out of the truck.

Deep down, I winced; I turned away without speaking. Liz had started crying as she stepped towards me. I returned her hug like an automaton.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she said at last, wiping her cheeks. “You look exhausted.”

Sam was probably a lot more exhausted than I was; he’d refused to let me help drive on the way back. He’d been right, I guess. “I don’t need help,” I said faintly. “Thanks anyway.”

I had to be by myself when I went into the bedroom I’d shared with Alex – it wasn’t something I could face with anyone else present. Liz seemed to get it. “I’ll walk you there, at least,” she said.

She put her arm around me and led me out of the garage, leaving Seb standing wordlessly behind us.

Once alone in my room, silence enveloped me like a shroud. For a long time, I just lay on the bed, hugging myself. Finally, feeling like it was something I needed to do, I got up and put Alex’s shoe deep in our closet, laying it gently on the floor.

When I straightened, I stood gazing at his clothes. I touched a shirt – then dropped my hand. It was freshly laundered, with nothing of him in it. But still draped over our chair was the black long-sleeved T-shirt he’d had on before he left. I picked it up and buried my face in it, breathing it in.

Alex. The smell of his shampoo, mixed with the faint odour of sweat and his own scent – warm and familiar, slightly spicy. Still holding the shirt, I sank down onto the bed again.

The room felt so empty. As I watched, the digital clock changed from 22:07 to 22:08. Then 22:09, 22:10.

I stared, transfixed. Someone knocked on the door; I looked up blearily. “Yes?”

Liz poked her head in. “Hey,” she said, edging in and shutting the door. “I know you said you wanted to be alone, but…”

I didn’t reply. She hesitated, then sat down beside me on the unmade bed. The last time I’d slept between these sheets, Alex had been here. I’d been planning on washing them; now I knew that nothing on earth could make me wash away whatever essence of him still clung to the fabric.

“Willow?”

I looked up, suddenly aware that several minutes had passed. Liz’s eyes were concerned. She touched my hair. “Why don’t I stay here with you tonight?”

I didn’t want her here – not in the bed I’d shared with Alex. I ran a hand over the shirt in my hands. “No, that’s all right.”

“I don’t like leaving you, though.”

I felt too tired to answer, unable to summon up any interest in whether she liked it or not.

22:15. 22:16. “It never stops,” I murmured. Liz’s eyebrows came together. I gave a dull shrug. “The clock.”

“Oh.” She looked blankly at it, her face wan. Finally she wrapped her arms around herself. “I still just…can’t believe it.”

Me neither. Pain wrenched through me. Trust me, he’d said. And so I had. I hadn’t gone probing in his thoughts, because he’d asked me not to. What if I’d ignored him and done it anyway – could I have stopped this?

My gaze fell on the desk, to the photo of myself as a child peering up through the branches of a willow tree. And I realized that I didn’t have any photos of Alex, not a single one. Why didn’t I?

“He’s really dead,” I said finally. My voice was small, defeated. Liz’s face crumpled; she pressed her head against my shoulder.

I hugged Alex’s shirt as I stared at the photo – my broad smile and sparkling eyes. It was like looking at someone from a different planet.

I couldn’t imagine ever being that happy again.

We held a memorial service a week later.

Liz and I planned it together: some of Alex’s favourite music and people sharing stories about him. I dressed up for it, wearing the black skirt I’d tried on in Liz’s room with a plain black top, and I told the story of how Alex and I had first met. I told it pretty well, I guess. People were smiling through their tears as I described how he’d barked at me, ordering me into his car.

It was so surreal. I felt like an actress playing a role: the grieving girlfriend. I almost started laughing; I kept wanting to say, Why are you all pretending? He can’t really be dead. And then I’d remember the feeling of the explosion thundering through me, and the truth would punch me in the stomach again.

Sam spoke, then Kara, who told a story about when Alex was fourteen. Her bruises were fading, and she’d cut her hair again; it lay sleekly against her head. As our eyes met briefly, I could sense the depth of her sadness. The fact that she’d once kissed Alex seemed so unimportant now. If I could have him back, I wouldn’t care if they had a red-hot affair, as long as I could hold him again.

The one good thing was that it turned out a few of the girls had taken pictures of Alex on their phones when he wasn’t looking. They printed them up on the computer in the office and gave them to me after the service. My gaze went instantly to one of Alex instructing the team: he’d been caught with a grin lighting up his strong-featured face, one eyebrow quirked.

I stared down at it. Alex. His tousled dark hair, his blue-grey eyes. And if I could look under his shirtsleeve, I’d see his AK tattoo…be able to run my hand up the firm warmth of his skin…

The girls looked at each other nervously. “Was it okay…that we did that?” faltered Chloe. “We just thought…”

I came back with a jolt. “Yes, it was okay,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Very, very okay.”

Soon after, Liz came over and squeezed my arm. “Are you all right?” she whispered. “You look like maybe you’ve had enough.”

She was right; the thought of having to endure one more tearful condolence was torture. “Yeah, I have,” I admitted faintly. “Can we get out of here?”

The corridor was silent as we left the rec room behind. “Back to your room?” Liz asked.

I shuddered, imagining its too-quiet emptiness. “No – not there.”

“Here, then.” She swung open the door to the library. My shoulders relaxed a fraction as I sank down at a table. It was quiet in here too, but that was okay – it was supposed to be quiet in a library.

“Thanks.” I propped myself on my elbows, rubbing my forehead; my brown hair fell forward a little. I’d worn it loose, because Alex had always preferred it that way.

Liz’s face was anxious as she sat across from me. I knew this wasn’t easy for her – she wasn’t exactly a nurturer – but she was trying. “Do you want anything? I could get you some tea.”

“No, I’m fine.” Fine – right. Neither of us said the obvious. “I just want to…not think for a while.”

She started to reply, then broke off as the door opened again. Seb came in and stood awkwardly, wearing trousers and a blue shirt. He’d shaved, I saw. His eyes were fixed on mine; there were dark circles under them.

“Willow, can we talk?” he asked.

I stared at him, wondering what there was to talk about.

“Please,” he added.

Liz glanced at me; finally I shrugged. “Yes, okay.”

She pushed her chair back. “Okay, well – I’ll leave you alone, then.” She picked up the photos of Alex. “I’ll put these in your room for you.”

It’s okay, don’t bother going, I almost said, but she’d already left, closing the door behind her. Seb sank down in her empty chair.

“Willow…oh, dios mío, I am so sorry.” He scraped his hair back; I could see the tension in his fingers. “I wasn’t sure if – if you wanted me, so I’ve stayed away, but I’ve been thinking about you every second, querida.”

And I hadn’t thought about him at all. It was almost funny. I let out a breath. “Thanks. I know you’re sorry.”

Seb swallowed. “Tell me how I can help you.” He started to stretch a hand towards me, then seemed to think better of it. “Willow, I know things have been strange between us, but – please let me be your brother again.”

“Let you?” I stared at him in disbelief, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Seb, I wasn’t the one who drew away and started ignoring you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “I was stupid, and wrong. I just…couldn’t deal with being around you.”

His hand lay clenched on the table. Looking at it, the night of the party came hurtling back: the way he’d buried his hands in Meghan’s hair and kissed her. And when he had, a brief, sharp emotion had stirred. I’d told myself that I’d just been surprised…but that hadn’t been it, had it?

The sudden guilt felt like it might cripple me.

“I see,” I said, my voice emotionless. “But now that Alex is gone, you can deal with being around me?”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant,” he said softly. “He was my friend, Willow.”

I crossed my arms tight over my chest. “So…what? You want to look out for your friend’s girlfriend, now that he’s dead? That’s nice of you. I’m sure Alex would appreciate it.”

“Why are you—” Seb broke off in frustration. “I want to look out for you, yes. It’s nothing to do with Alex; it’s just what we are to each other – the link we share. Nothing ever changes that, Willow.” His mouth twisted. “Not for me, at least.”

“Right. And what does Meghan think about that?”

“It’s not her business.”

“She’s your girlfriend. I think maybe it is.”

Seb shook his head. “I didn’t come in here to argue with you, querida. I’m sorry; I’m just making things worse.” He started to get up. “If you need me, I’m here. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Oh, wait, so you’re not going away after all?” I said, my voice so innocent that it was snide.

Seb stood very still as he regarded me, his jaw tight. “No. I am not going away,” he said.

I stood up too, my head throbbing – and all I could see was the camp, blown to pieces so thoroughly that I didn’t even know if there was anything of Alex left. How could I have been jealous over Seb for even a second, how?

I gripped the table edge; my voice shook. “If you’re staying because of me – then don’t bother, okay? Because I’m sorry, but the answer is no. You can’t be my brother again. Not now, not ever.”

I lay on my bed without moving, still fully dressed. Hours had passed – my brain felt dried out, numb. Propped onto the pillow next to me was one of the photos of Alex. I’d been staring at it for a long time.

His slow, lazy grin. The way his blue-grey eyes had lit up whenever he’d seen me. Even our occasional arguments were moments I’d give anything to have back now.

You promised, I thought bleakly. Alex, you promised that you wouldn’t put yourself in danger again without telling me. Were they just words? How could I love him so much and be so furious with him?

How could I be furious with him at all when he was dead? I shuddered and curled into the fetal position. Slowly, I traced my finger over his mouth in the photo.

“What happened?” I whispered.

Trying to take control of the world’s energy field – it was just insane. Had he wanted to die? I rubbed my temples with cold fingers. No. Alex wouldn’t do that, no matter what. But he’d done something else, hadn’t he?

That emotion I’d sensed when he kissed me before he left: I hadn’t been able to place it then, but I could now. It had been goodbye. Not Goodbye, I’ll see you soon – something far more final. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and what the odds were.

And he’d told me to trust him and left anyway.

With a wordless cry, I wrenched myself up and hurled the pillow across the room. It smashed into the desk, sending the lamp clattering to the floor.

“How could you do this to me?” I screamed. “I wouldn’t have you back now for anything. You lied to me; you broke your promise!”

The black shirt lay nearby; I screwed it into a ball and threw it too. It landed in a puddle of fabric. Not nearly enough. I lunged off the bed after it, started to tear it in half, and then reality hit me: This is almost all I have left of him – and I began to cry instead.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, clutching the shirt to my chest. “Oh, god, Alex, of course I’d have you back – I want to die without you…”

I lay on the rough carpet and cried until there were no tears left. Finally I sat up and slumped wearily against the desk. My eyes felt gritty, swollen – my hair wild and tangled. Around me, the room was silent, the lamp still lying where it had fallen.

It would stay there until I picked it up: I lived alone now. I could rage, scream, cry all I wanted – Alex would never hear me, and he’d never come back.