Текст книги "Butterfly Dreams"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 8

Corin

Before leaving the coffee shop, I had excused myself to go to the bathroom to rinse off my shirt that had gotten stained in the Coffeepocalypse.

I closed myself in the restroom and ran some water in the sink, trying to get myself together.

Why was I freaking out?

What was the big deal?

The nerves in the pit of my stomach knocked around like a thousand butterflies, trying to crawl up my throat. Suffocating me. Ruining everything.

This was the first time in my adult life I was developing something that felt a lot like friendship.

Real friendship.

Something genuine.

Sure I had Adam, but most days I was pretty sure he didn’t even like me.

Beckett seemed to enjoy being around me. As incredible as that sounded, he didn’t find me off-putting or odd. He had told me that he liked talking to me. He laughed when I was actually trying to be funny and not because I was acting like a freak.

The dull ache in my chest that I had grown accustomed to had disappeared. The familiar pain in my joints, in my muscles, was gone. I wasn’t thinking about any of that right now.

Because I was almost sure that I had just made a new friend.

This isn’t kindergarten, Corin. Don’t be a dork!

I joined Beckett outside after a few minutes. He was looking down at his phone, a dark scowl on his face. He typed out a text angrily before making a noise of disgust and then shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Beckett looked up at the sound of my voice, his face clearing. All signs of his earlier irritation gone.

“Just peachy,” he responded a little too brightly.

His phone chirped again and his face blackened again.

“Do you need to answer that?” I asked, pointing to his phone.

He sighed. “I can deal with it later.”

“Is it work?” I pried. I really was being nosy today.

“We really need to find you a filter that fits,” Beckett chuckled, not offended.

“If you have somewhere to be, you can come by the studio later,” I offered, feeling mildly disappointed at the idea.

“No, it’s nothing. Just…it’s just my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

I had almost forgotten about her.

“Ex-girlfriend I mean. We broke up not long ago. She’s just letting me know she came to get her stuff. And you know, to tell me to go fuck myself,” he laughed a little awkwardly. I felt myself brighten. I couldn’t help it. Not about the guy being told to go fuck himself.

But about the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore.

Why was I so pleased about that?

“I’m sorry?” I wasn’t sure what I should say. Because he didn’t seem too broken up over the whole thing.

Beckett shrugged. “It was a breakup that was long overdue.” He cleared his throat and gave me a small smile.

“What did you say her name was?” I asked. Why are you beating this very dead horse, Corin?

I could tell he didn’t really want to talk about her, but I was curious. Morbidly so.

“Sierra,” he said hesitantly.

“That’s a pretty name,” I replied lamely. It really wasn’t a pretty name. It sounded like something you’d name a horse. Or a mean cheerleader.

A girl with lots of teeth who wore a ponytail on top of her head as she pranced around in crop tops and booty shorts.

“What’s she like?” I asked as we started walking in the direction of my studio.

“She wasn’t the sort of person I wanted to spend my life with, which is why we’re no longer together,” he said a little harshly, and I felt instantly ashamed for grilling him about her.

Beckett looked contrite and his expression softened. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But it wasn’t a good relationship. I had tried to hold onto this idea of what we used to have before the cardiac arrest, and it just wasn’t working. Neither of us were the people we used to be.”

“You’ve changed,” I surmised.

Beckett shrugged. “Everyone changes. Life is full of ups and downs. And our relationship couldn’t cope with the downs. I need someone who can ride the wave with me. No matter what happens.”

I swallowed thickly, feeling myself pulled in by the intensity of his gaze.

“Oh,” I murmured.

Beckett looked away, somewhere off into the distance.

“Plus she’s younger. She still wanted to party and go bungee jumping on weekends. She never really acclimated herself to how different life was now that I couldn’t do the things I used to.”

“So she wasn’t okay with you not bungee jumping or whatever?”

He shook his head, scratching at his chin absently.

“Well, it sounds like she sucked. And you shouldn’t waste time on sucky people.”

Wow. Really eloquent, Corin, I thought dismally.

“So you don’t waste your time with sucky people? Does that mean I don’t suck?” he asked when we were close to the studio.

I rolled my eyes, though quietly relieved that he hadn’t told me to shove my unwanted opinions up my ass. “I plead the fifth.” We crossed the busy street toward the shop. “Did you really go bungee jumping on weekends?” I asked incredulously.

“Sure. And you haven’t?”

“Do you know how easy it is to have your eyes ripped from their sockets by the force? You could have gone blind!”

“You can’t spend your time always worrying about something happening to you. How do you ever experience anything living like that?” Beckett asked as I stopped just outside Razzle Dazzle.

“At least you can go to bed at night with all your appendages intact,” I remarked primly, folding my arms over my chest.

Beckett leaned in close. So close that our lips were only inches apart. “Being scared is never an excuse to hide. You should wake up every morning thankful you have another day to enjoy.”

I stared into his eyes, hardly able to breathe. Beckett seemed to realize how close he was but he didn’t back away.

“You need to live each day like you won’t get another, Corin. Don’t waste time being miserable.” His voice was so soft. So sure. So full of truth that it rattled around in my head. In my heart.

“Are you taking your own advice, Beckett?” I countered just as softly.

We continued to stare at each other, neither looking away.

“I’m trying,” he answered and then leaned back, the cold taking his place. I shivered involuntarily.

“Are you going to let me go inside, or are we going to stand out here all day?” he teased, changing the subject.

“Come on then.” I turned my back on him to open the door.

We walked in and Beckett stopped. “Wow, is it always this busy?” he asked, and I was pleased with how impressed he looked.

I didn’t want to tell him that the packed house was a total fluke. That while our trade was steady at times, we were never as overrun as we currently were. But I was glad that he had chosen today of all days to come by.

“Sometimes,” I answered offhandedly.

“This is incredible, Corin. I can’t believe I didn’t know this place was here.” Beckett picked up an unpainted figurine from the shelf.

Adam looked up as we came in. He glanced from me to Beckett but otherwise gave no indication that he cared one way or another that I had brought a random guy into the studio for the first time ever.

“Do you run this by yourself?” Beckett asked, putting the figurine down and moving aside as a little boy ran past him on his way to the toilet.

“My partner Adam and I run it together,” I answered, indicating Adam, who was still watching us from the other side of the room. He was being sort of creepy about it. I narrowed my eyes at my friend but that didn’t stop his voyeurism. His blatant curiosity was obvious. He had no shame.

Beckett glanced at Adam and back to me, clearing his throat. His face darkened and he looked unhappy. “Oh. I didn’t realize. Shit. This probably looks bad.”

I blinked a couple of times, confused.

“Huh?”

Beckett crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tense. “Me coming in here with you like this. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

I choked and started coughing. “Wh…what?” I wheezed.

“Crap. Are you okay?” Beckett asked, bending over to look at me, pounding me on the back.

I took a deep breath and swallowed. “Adam’s not my boyfriend. Dear god, no!”

Adam was still watching Beckett and me. I’d have to talk to him about that later. He needed to learn subtlety if he was planning to play spy.

Beckett gave me a smile that I swear looked relieved. Or was that wishful thinking? Why would I be wishing that? I didn’t care if he was relieved. Or if he decided to start a tap dance routine in the middle of my shop. Okay, that may be a little on the odd side.

I sighed. My internal ramblings were giving me a headache.

“Oh, I just thought—forget it.” He relaxed and I relaxed.

“He’s my friend. Has been since we were teenagers. He opened the store with me. Helped me start the business,” I explained in a rush.

“That’s good. Because I thought for a second I was going to have to defend this amazing face of mine for coming in here with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your face is safe.”

“Cor, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you,” Adam demanded, appearing beside us. His face wasn’t blankly neutral now. He looked a little flustered.

“Sorry I’m late, Adam. Is there a problem?” I asked a little anxiously, unused to seeing Adam so put out. He was used to my flaky schedule and kept the wheels of our joint business moving without complaint.

“You’ve been gone for over two hours. You said your appointment wouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes. You knew we had this booking.” I flushed in embarrassment at being chided in front of Beckett.

Though I should have remembered. Adam really didn’t do crowds. He had a pretty serious people phobia. Which was unfortunate for a guy that ran a store catering to the public.

Beckett had the decency to pretend to be looking at the drying pieces from an earlier group lining the table in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I should have called. I had an…incident.” I dropped my voice to a whisper, hoping Adam picked up on what I was trying to tell him.

Adam gave Beckett a pointed look. “Is he the incident?” he asked, and I discreetly punched him in the arm.

“No! It was at the doctor’s office.” I peeked at Beckett, hoping he wasn’t hearing this. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Here.” He shoved a pot of green paint in my hands. “The table over there needs this. I’m going on my break.”

“We have all these people—” I started.

“They’ve been talking to me, Cor. I’ve had to talk back. I need a break.” He pitched his voice low.

“Yeah, okay. Go ahead. Wouldn’t want you to pop a blood vessel trying to be friendly,” I said.

Adam walked back to the office and closed the door, and I knew I wouldn’t see him again for another twenty minutes.

“Uh, if this is a bad time—” Beckett began.

“No, it’s fine. Why don’t you pick out something you want to paint and I’ll bring you some supplies.”

Krista and our other employee, Jane, were handling the large group. “How has everything been?” I asked the two, checking to make sure everything was in order.

“Fine. It’s been a pretty low-key group. Though I think Adam may have scared the kids when they asked if they could paint his shoes,” Krista snickered.

I groaned. “Well, Mr. Moody Pants is having his break. He’ll be back out here in a few minutes,” I told her.

“Oh, okay,” Krista said, her eyes flickering back to the closed office door.

I nodded my head in Beckett’s direction. “I’m going to help out this customer. If you need me, I’ll be over there.”

Jane, a pretty redhead with an unfortunately overlarge nose, widened her eyes. “I’ll help him! He’s hot!”

I tried not to get annoyed. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Jane pouted but didn’t argue.

I headed back over to Beckett, who was picking up a butterfly from the shelf. “Everything A-OK on deck?” he asked. “Your partner looked like he was about to blow a gasket.”

“Adam’s fine. He’s just not what you would call a sociable person. He never met a good mood he couldn’t slaughter. So he’s back in the office pulling up his big-girl panties and touching up his makeup.”

Beckett chuckled. “I can see why you guys are friends.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I always pull up my big-girl panties.” I flushed. Beckett’s eyes heated. Great, now we were both thinking about my panties.

“Did you pick something you want to paint?” I asked, indicating the butterfly in his hand. Changing the subject as fast as I could.

“Yeah, I guess. So I just paint it? We’re not going to play Ghost with a pottery wheel?” he asked. I burned a deeper shade of red. At this rate my cheeks were going to stay that way permanently.

“No. Nothing like that,” I replied a little breathlessly. I coughed to cover my discomfort. “I also provide workshops several times a week where you can make your own pieces. I have some pottery wheels in a small studio in the back. But there will be no Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore antics. It’s not that kind of place.” I laughed, though I couldn’t ignore the weird tingling in my belly.

Beckett snapped his fingers together. “Well, damn it. There goes my idea for the afternoon.”

I tried to think of something funny to say but came up short. Talking to Beckett could be so easy.

Until it wasn’t.

And I was left thinking about slathering him with wet clay and rubbing him all over.

“Can I paint this one?” Beckett asked, saving me from my pit of awkward. He held up the butterfly that was perched on a leaf.

“Odd choice for a guy, don’t you think?” I asked, relieved that the strange moment of tension was gone.

“Don’t impose your gender stereotypes on me, Corin,” Beckett scolded good-naturedly. “Guys can like butterflies too,” he said, standing up straight and putting his shoulders back.

“I wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise,” I said, waving him toward the empty table. “Have a seat and I’ll bring you some paint.”

I walked toward the storeroom as Adam was coming out of the office. He startled when he saw me. “Feeling better?” I asked him. Looking jumpy, he ran his hand through his hair. What was up with him?

“Oh, yeah, I’m cool. All better now. Getting back to it.” He looked behind me to where Beckett was sitting at the table. “What’s with the dude?”

“Oh, he’s just a friend.” No big deal. Nothing to see here, folks.

“Uh-huh. Since when do you have those?” Adam asked.

Ouch.

“I have you, knucklehead.”

“Adam, did you see my hair tie—oh hey, Corin,” Krista chimed, coming out of the office.

Wait. What was she doing in there?

“Yeah, I was bringing it out to you. Here…”—Adam shoved the elastic in Krista’s hands—“Now get back out there. I think the group is leaving,” he told her gruffly.

Krista scampered off and I glared at him.

“You really need to work on being nicer to people. She’s going to quit if you keep treating her like that.”

“Whatever. She’ll be fine,” Adam muttered.

“If she quits, you have to find her replacement,” I threatened. I grabbed a couple of pots of paint and stomped off, annoyed with Adam’s surly attitude even if I should be used to it by now. I returned to Beckett and dropped the paint on his table.

“No blue? What self-respecting butterfly doesn’t have blue…” he trailed off as he looked up at me. “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

“If you want blue, I’ll get you some,” I offered.

He pulled out the chair beside him. “Don’t worry about it. But why don’t you paint something too?”

I shook my head. “I don’t sample the merchandise.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve never painted something in your own store?” Beckett asked in disbelief.

“Uh, no, I guess not.” I didn’t do a lot in the way of painting and sculpting anymore. Unless it was for a workshop. I couldn’t remember the last time I made something because I wanted to.

“Well, grab something and sit down. Let’s de-stress together.” His offer was appealing in its simplicity.

I grabbed another butterfly off the shelf. This one appeared to be in mid-flight. Its wings lifted up as though gliding on a gust of wind.

“The butterflies will always protect you, Corin. They’ll keep you safe.”

The memory of my mother’s voice rang in my ears. I hadn’t been able to find comfort in her words in a long time.

And that often seemed like the greater loss.

But seeing the delicate butterfly in Beckett’s hand had me remembering when my butterflies made me happy.

I sat down beside Beckett, who was already dipping his brush into the pot of yellow paint and smearing it on the plaster.

“It’s fun hanging out with you, Corin,” Beckett said, and I laughed.

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”

Beckett frowned. “Well, then you’re not hanging out with the right people.”

“And you’re the right people?” I asked, teasing but suddenly serious.

“Yeah, I think I am. In fact, give me your phone.” He held his hand out and I gave him my phone without thinking twice.

No hesitation.

He so easily stepped right over any resistance I may have had.

He tapped away and a few seconds later his phone rang and then stopped.

“Now I have your number and you have mine,” he said when I obviously looked confused.

“Why?” I asked stupidly.

“So you can hang out with the right people again,” he commented, picking up his paintbrush and continuing with his project.

“We see each other at group, you know,” I threw out there.

I sounded unsure but I really wanted to hang out with him again.

I didn’t want to admit out loud how much.

But I did want to.

“Yeah, but I’d like a reason to come here again.” Beckett looked around before his eyes returned to mine. Dancing and happy.

“I like this place,” Beckett said sincerely. He meant it. I could tell.

The noisy preschool group had finished and were filtering out the door. The quiet that was left behind was nice.

My shop was the closest thing I had to a home. Home wasn’t the place I grew up. It wasn’t the apartment where I laid my head at night.

It was in the studio where I had lived through my grief and tried to come out on the other side.

It was in the tables and the chairs and the paint.

It was in the smiles of customers and the knowledge that for once I had done something that was just for me.

And I knew that somehow, someway, this stranger, this man I was only barely beginning to know, saw that.

He liked my studio.

That meant more than him saying that he liked me.

I stopped painting, feeling the tiny frantic wings of my butterflies in my stomach and they didn’t feel painful or frantic.

I looked over at Beckett, whose head was still bent over his figurine, taking his time to get the colors just right.

He liked the studio.

He liked it.

And he wanted to call me.

He wanted to hang out…with me.

He thought I was fun.

I smiled, feeling strangely full.

“I’m glad.”

Chapter 9

Beckett

“Hey, I brought you the information about the pottery workshop if you want to sign up,” Corin said, handing me a pamphlet.

I was filling up my mug with tea and waiting for the rest of the members of the Mended Hearts support group to show up. I was dragging today after having very little sleep the night before.

I took the pamphlet from Corin and smiled at her.

I was glad to see her.

I thought about calling her on my lunch break today but figured that would be a little much considering I’d see her that evening in group.

“I almost called you today,” she said, as if reading my mind.

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“I bought myself a box of that green tea stuff you had on Friday.”

“And?” I prompted.

“I wanted to tell you that it’s so much better than coffee and that you’re crazy for thinking otherwise.” She brushed her long brown hair over her shoulder and I couldn’t stop staring at her. When I had first met her, I thought she was pretty in an understated way. Now I realized that pretty didn’t really describe Corin Thompson.

She was beautiful.

I found myself staring a little too long at her mouth and noticeably cleared my throat, looking away.

“Well, you should have called.”

“I will next time. No sense in wasting an opportunity to tell you how wrong you are,” Corin remarked.

I laughed. “Don’t get used to it. It won’t happen often.” I took a drink of tea. “Thanks for the pamphlet,” I said, holding it up.

Suddenly I was hit by a wave of light-headedness that had me holding onto the edge of the table. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I concentrated on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. The dizziness was starting to make me sick.

No. This can’t be happening.

“Are you all right?”

I opened my eyes to see Corin watching me closely. She was gripping at the hem of her pale yellow sweater, bunching it in her hand.

The light-headedness started to fade and I was able to let go of the table. I took another deep breath and steadied myself.

“I’m fine,” I answered casually. I held up the pamphlet that had become wrinkled in my hand. “Thanks for this.”

Corin was still watching me, her eyes a little wider than they had been. Staring at me searchingly in a way that made me self-conscious. “Not a problem,” she said.

What the hell had just happened? I felt a twisting in my stomach as I tried not to worry myself about the possible implications of getting suddenly dizzy.

Maybe my blood sugar had gotten low.

Maybe my blood pressure had dropped suddenly.

One thing I did know was that I could never dismiss light-headedness ever again. I knew I was going to have to call my doctor and go in and get checked out.

And I tried really hard not to get frustrated about it.

I smoothed out the brochure and looked at it. “Looks like fun,” I said, trying to sound energetic.

Corin shrugged. “There’s no swinging from the rafters or anything, but it can be a good time.”

She absently smoothed hair back from her face. I found myself noticing the tiny details of her face. The dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. The slight chip in her front tooth. The arch of her eyebrows.

I noticed everything about her.

“Do I have to sign up or can I just show?” I asked as she poured herself a cup of water and sipped on it slowly. I was feeling better. The dizziness was receding and I definitely didn’t want to talk about it.

“You can just come if you want. And just so you know, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Don’t think you have to or anything,” she said, waiting as I filled a plate with cookies.

I quickly ate one, hoping the influx of sugar would get rid of the residual weakness.

“I know I don’t have to come, but I’d like to. It could be fun.”

“No dirty Ghost stuff though,” she laughed, and I grinned, feeling better with my sugar infusion.

“Promise, no dirty Ghost stuff.”

“Maybe we could go and grab some dinner afterward,” I suggested. Corin’s eyes bugged out of her head and I wondered what I said to make her look like that. Then I realized that it sounded like I was asking her out on a date.

Which I wasn’t.

Right?

Damn, my light-headedness had scrambled my brains. Something must have short-circuited.

“I mean, because the workshops go kind of late, so I figured you’d be hungry. What do you eat anyway?” I rambled. Dear god, I sounded like a fucking moron. I stuffed my mouth with another cookie. Anything to stop the verbal diarrhea pouring out.

“The flesh of the unborn,” she deadpanned, and I made a choking noise. I swallowed the cookie and coughed.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I gasped.

Corin pounded on my back. “I’ll wait until you’re done eating to tell you about my peculiar eating habits,” she told me, smirking. I grinned at her grinning. When I was finally able to breathe again, she continued. “I like normal stuff. Though I’m a sucker for a good plate of pasta.”

I made a face. “As long as it’s not lasagna, we’re fine.”

Corin gasped in feigned shock. “You don’t like lasagna? What kind of heathen are you?”

“The lasagna-hating kind,” I threw back at her.

We walked to the circle of chairs in the center of the room, and I was glad that I was feeling normal once again. I could almost forget about what had happened earlier. Almost. But I knew I couldn’t. Ignoring symptoms was not a luxury I could afford. Not anymore.

For the first time Corin chose a seat beside me instead of finding one between two other people. I considered that a huge step forward in our budding friendship.

I continued eating the cookies on my plate and held one out for her. She hesitated.

“I promise it won’t kick-start any crazy illnesses. I don’t think one cookie will incapacitate you.”

She stuck out her tongue and grabbed the cookie, popping the whole thing in her mouth.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad was it?” I asked. Corin wiped crumbs off her mouth

and took another drink of water.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

I held my hand up in mock surrender. “I would do no such thing. Not now that you know my secret loathing of lasagna. I wouldn’t dare goad the woman who holds that sort of power.”

We were sitting close. Really close. Only inches separated us.

She had an eyelash on her cheek and without thinking about it, I reached out to brush it away. My fingers trailed the length of her face, still touching. Unable to stop.

Corin’s breathing hitched and I felt my heart start to slam against my rib cage.

All because I was touching her face.

“You had an eyelash.” I held it up on my thumb, my voice hoarse.

“I should make a wish, huh?” she whispered. We were looking at each other. Not looking away. I don’t think we could even if we had wanted to.

She closed her eyes and blew lightly on my thumb, the eyelash disappearing.

“What did you wish for?” I asked her, my voice cracking like a kid going through puberty. I leaned in a little closer. I couldn’t help it.

She smelled like paint and something fruity. Strawberries maybe?

Shit. Was I seriously sitting there sniffing a girl like she was a goddamned bouquet of flowers? If I made a habit of sniffing bouquets of flowers, that is.

Corin’s eyes popped open and she looked at me nervously.

Smooth, Beck. Real smooth.

“If I tell you that, it won’t come true, will it?” she giggled nervously, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

“I won’t tell. I promise,” I whispered quietly, widening my eyes innocently.

Corin snorted but didn’t answer. Which was probably for the best. I had already amped up the unnecessary discomfort to an unsettling degree.

Why did I turn into a pile of moron around this woman?

And then, to make matters worse, I draped my arm around her shoulders. I couldn’t help it. I needed to touch her. It was something akin to compulsion.

I was making too much of a habit of invading her personal space. But I had always been an affectionate guy, I reasoned. I grew up in a family that hugged often. So it meant nothing for me to show affection in a physical way.

That didn’t explain why I maneuvered every situation so I could carelessly caress Corin. So I could touch her hand or brush against her arm.

I could feel her body heat through the cotton of my shirt. I could smell the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. The paint flecked on her shirt. I could feel the way she breathed, in and out, her chest expanding and retracting with the movement. My fingers gripped her arm and I suddenly wished I could feel her bare skin under my hand.

Suddenly what started as a purely platonic gesture began to feel like something else.

I really should move my arm. I was making this way more complicated than it needed to be.

But then she leaned into me. Just a fraction of an inch. Nothing much.

But it was enough.

So I kept my arm where it was.

“Hello, everyone!” Candace bellowed from her spot in the middle of the group. I dropped my arm like I had been burned, and Corin noisily scraped her chair across the floor as she moved away.

We glanced at each other out of the corners of our eyes and I was practically dripping in self-consciousness.

“Can I have everyone’s attention? Grab your cookies and tea and head to your seats, please. I have to start today’s group with some unhappy news.” Candace reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, dabbing her eyes. She waited a few more minutes while everyone found their seats. A thick tension settled in the room that I didn’t like one bit.

“What do you think’s going on?” Corin whispered, and she seemed relatively normal after our strange moment, or whatever it was, minutes before.

I didn’t get a chance to respond before Candace started talking.

“I received a phone call earlier today that Geoffery suffered from a fatal heart attack this morning around ten o’clock.” There was an immediate cacophony of voices at the news.

I sat there in a state of shock, my mind going in a million different directions.

I thought about my earlier light-headedness and what it could possibly mean. What it could be a symptom of.

I felt a shiver of fear that I tried to tamp down.

I focused on Geoffery. His wacky Mickey Mouse watch and bag of mints that he shoved on everyone like crack. Realizing that he’d never show up in group again, wearing his plaid flat caps and insisting we take handfuls of sweets, hit me hard.

Corin let out a gasp and I looked over at her. She had gone pale and was gripping her hands together in her lap.

I started to say something to her, to offer some sort of support, but Candace was talking again.

“I know you guys are going to want to process this. So instead of our normal group activity, we can spend the time talking about Geoffery and what has happened. His wife will be making arrangements for his funeral, and when I know more, I’ll pass on that information to you. I know you’ll want to be there to pay your respects.”

Everyone seemed to start talking at once. Everyone was feeling the same mixture of grief, shock, and resignation that eventually we could all end up the same way.

Six feet under.

A general sense of depression descended and I tried not to get dragged down by it.

Life and death and contemplating morality could be a serious mood killer.

Because the truth was we were a group of people with heart problems. Even as we lived our lives and tried to go on like normal, our mutual fates hung like a heavy weight around our collective necks.

Death was, and always would be, a very real possibility for the people sitting in this circle with shock and grief on their faces. We lived our lives under its shadow every single day.

It was something I had been struggling with since my heart attack. Something I couldn’t ignore but tried not to dwell on. I was desperate to live my life anyway.

But then you get slapped in the face with a reminder that everything was temporary. I knew that everyone had the knowledge that one day it would all be over. No one was exempt from dying. But for someone like me it was so much more immediate. Because I had already seen what it’s like on the other end. I had seen the white light. The dark tunnel. And as much as I hated to admit it, the thought of what lay beyond terrified me.