If- Nina G. Jones Page 0,107

always gave him a hard time for caring. But now, I would kill for one of his lectures.

I stared at my door, waiting for Jordan to barge in with news or a hysterical YouTube video, just like our days as neighbors. But the door was still and Jordan would never walk through it again.

I didn’t want to be alone. I had friends I had made over the years. Marley and I had grown close since she apologized to me in the bathroom, but few people understood what Jordan meant to me. I thought about the painting lying on my floor. Very few people lived in those moments we shared in the studio apartment by Skid Row when we were struggling dancers. So few people knew me, I mean really knew me—my greatest fears, my weaknesses, my vulnerabilities.

I was drowning and I needed someone to wrap their arms around me and pull me to shore. Like an invisible force took my hand, my fingers flipped to my Facebook messages, and then to the last message I received from Ash. I hadn’t opened any since the first one, my willpower wasn’t strong enough not to answer if I did.

My dad is sick. He’s stable, but I’m heading to LA to be with my family. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be in town for a while. And I know you have a great life, but I’m keeping my promise.

Ash’s number was included in the message and I pressed my finger against it. He was a ship, crashing against the waves, coming to my rescue.

Ash was too close for me to resist.

ASH

The apartment was in complete darkness when I let myself in. The brittle undulations of her sobs were the only thing I could see. She had the most whimsical, illuminating laughter I have ever seen, but she also had the saddest, most broken sobs. I closed my eyes for second, but the colors also lived in my mind’s eye, and even with my eyes closed, I couldn’t escape her misery.

“Bird?”

“Over here.” I followed her voice and when I finally saw her, a soft purple light framed her dark figure. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” she murmured, seated on a windowsill, staring out at downtown LA.

I brushed my hand through her soft curls. “I’m so sorry, Bird.”

She turned and collapsed towards my torso and I took her in my arms as her body convulsed in agony. I held her in silence as her tears soaked my shirt.

“He told me about what he told you. I had no idea.”

“I figured he might.”

“I was so angry at him. I never wanted you to feel like you were a burden. You were never a burden to me, Ash. Ever.”

“I know you never saw me as one, Bird. I know you loved me.”

“But you left.”

“Because I knew you had turned down the show. I gave you a chance to tell me. When you didn’t I knew what that meant. It meant I was in the way. And you loved me too much to see it.”

She moaned like the pain was physical. “It hurts so much. I don’t know how I am going to do this.”

“You’re strong, Bird. Stronger than me.”

She began to weep erratically. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I told him to go. And he went home and that’s when he had the accident. He was supposed to spend the next few days with me. How am I going to explain that to his little girl one day?”

“Bird, whatever happened is not your fault. It was an accident.”

She locked her hazel eyes on mine. “Why is it so easy for you to say those words to me, but not to yourself?” Her words lifted a huge boulder from the pile of stones that had weighed down on me for so long. It was like all the pain I had ever experienced had a purpose, so I could be here for her in this moment and understand what she felt in a way no one else could. It was not just a sense of loss, but a sense of responsibility. I would feel a thousand years of my pain, just so I could make hers easier.

I didn’t believe Bird was responsible. And for that fleeting moment when she challenged me, I was able to step outside of myself and see that maybe Sarah’s death wasn’t my fault either.

Bird’s eyes caught a glimpse of my hand, haphazardly wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. She