Free When I See You by Katherine Owen Page B

refrigerator to the counter in a regular rhythm, intent on the task of baking chocolate cupcakes for Max's preschool. This is incongruent to the funeral planning that Ashleigh and I have been doing, but I cannot seem to stop myself from performing this ordinary task. A mother's wish, I guess. The busier I keep myself, the better contained the raging grief inside of me will be. That's my hope, at least.
    "And, now? Why are you telling me, now?"
    Ashleigh pushes a tendril of her long hair behind one ear. Her face is streaked with old tears. There have been two of those—crying jags. Well, she cried, while I felt nothing, but the pervasive grief. It's invaded my system and taken over. Ethan has been dead for ten days. His funeral is tomorrow.
    "I don't know. It's weird. I've never been able to talk to you about it—what happened to them. But now, I can't stop thinking about it, and them, and what I saw then. It's some sort of…well, it's some weird, fucking form of closure, I guess."
    I shrug my shoulders in bewilderment. I haven't been able to explain the nightmares I've been having about my parents and all the horrible moments I lived through when I was just seventeen that resurface now.
    "Why?" Her gentle tone is almost my undoing. I move abruptly toward the refrigerator, again, turning away from her.
    "Ashleigh," I say in a low voice. "Ethan." My voice trembles with just saying his name. "It was just like my dad. I can't get the image of Ethan's face out of my mind. It haunts me. I wake up every day and, for the first minute; I feel fine and then, that horrible last memory of his face rushes at me. I can't get it out of my mind."
    "I wish you would have listened to me about that." She waves her hand through the air and then frowns at me. "You don't always have to be so fucking brave, you know." She twists her hair around her finger. A sure sign she's thinking deeply about something.
    "Right now, I'm just so empty. I can't feel anything. Sometimes, I wake up and my world seems so ordinary, but then, I remember and I struggle to make it to the bathroom before I'm throwing up, sickened at the thought of him dead and remembering his face and how he looked. His beautiful face."
    I sink down in the chair and hold my face in my hands.
    "It won't always be like this. You know this. Remember? I was there when the stuff happened with your parents and you picked yourself up and you started over. Look at you. You fell in love and married Ethan. You have Max." Her desperate tone matches the one I continually hide from her. I live in my own private hell.
    "I thought I was pregnant. Maybe, I was. I told him I thought I was. I wrote him an email, ecstatic because I'd missed my period. What if that upset him? What if he got killed because of me? Because he was distracted? Because of me," I whisper.
    "No," she says, shaking her head. "He would have been thrilled, not distracted at all. Are you pregnant?"
    "No," I whisper. "I got my period this morning."
    "I'm so sorry." Ashleigh comes over and puts her arms around me.
    I cannot find my way back to the surface. Grief is like this turbulent ocean wave that holds me down below the surface of the living. I feel as if I'm drowning most of the time. Ashleigh holds me in her arms and tells me everything is going to be okay. I want to believe her, but I can't.
    "He's gone, Ashleigh. He's gone. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."
    "I know. It's so God-damn unfair."
    Her swearing makes me want to smile. I pull away from her and she brushes back the hair from my face.
    "Jordan, I just want you to know; I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you."
    "I know." I try to smile, but the effort is too much. Finally, I swallow back the emotion building in my throat and in a trembling voice say, "Keep the tequila shots coming at the funeral. We're going to need them."
    My best friend enthusiastically nods and steals a round of frosting with her outstretched finger and tries to smile. I watch