Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
My laughter ends quickly as I stare back down at my plate of untouched cake. Maybe I’m still too heavy with my own thoughts to really enjoy much of anything, even a little, simple laughter.
Byron notices. “Hmm … Hey, babe?”
I turn to him. “Yeah?”
“I … I just want to say …” He takes hold of both my hands. “I know it’s our wedding day. I know there are a lot of eyes on us—and you. But I also know your mind might be somewhere else right now. You probably have conflicting and confusing emotions inside of you. I want you to know you don’t have to hide them from me. You don’t have to fake another smile, or keep another secret, or … pretend to be okay around me when you’re really not.” He comes closer. “I’m your husband. You can trust me to handle anything that’s in your heart and mind. I am here for you, by your side, no matter what.”
The sincerity in his words rings like a bell of truth. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. “Thank you, Byron.”
“And … if you have raw feelings,” he goes on, and I can tell it’s difficult for him, “about what my dads did, about whether I might have taken part in … in whatever happened between you and West in that moment none of us could see … you can tell me. I can take it. I bear some of the responsibility. I just …” I see him getting emotional. “I just can’t see you hurting like that and stand by and do nothing. It’s not in my character to let my loved ones suffer.”
“I know.”
“West was your friend, I know, your best friend. But in that moment just before those floodgates of the damned opened—or whatever you wanna call them—I saw you right at death’s door, and I couldn’t stand by. I had to act.”
“I understand. I really do. You did what you needed to do. It’s very possible I might still be alive right now because of you and your fathers. None of us will ever know.” I glance away. “I think even West understands that.”
Byron rubs my hands. “You are so brave, Griffin. You’re so brave and your heart is so big and beautiful. He was lucky to know you, to have an outstanding guy like you move in to apartment 313. I might have never met Westley before, but I feel like I can see him in your eyes when you talk about him.” Byron smiles. “He was a pretty great guy, too, I’m sure of it.”
Was.
He talks about Westley in the past tense. Was lucky to know me. Was a pretty great guy. Was, was, was.
As if West is already gone.
Moved on.
Deleted like a browser history.
But I choose to ignore the choice of words. Byron’s sentiment is understood, and he means well. “I wish you could have known him,” I say back, then lift our hands to my lips to give them a kiss. Byron smiles, warmed. I decide right then to pick up my fork and go for a bite of cake. “Goddamn,” I moan after tasting it.
“Goddamn,” agrees Byron with half a laugh. Then he takes my fork from me and feeds me my next bite. A slip of the fork puts icing on my nose, and the two of us have a cute moment. It’s witnessed by the photographer who snaps a picture just in time.
In another hour, the dance floor fills with a number of vampires, body-suit skeletons, ethereal fairies with pink wings, and sexy nurses. Eventually, there’s no way to distinguish wedding reception from Halloween party. Somehow, it feels entirely appropriate, considering the night Byron and I first met two long years ago and the environment in which we shared our first kiss.
Still, my heart is plagued with thoughts. I feel like I need a moment alone. Maybe several.
I excuse myself to the bathroom, then find myself lost in a labyrinth of hallways. I wonder if I meant to get lost, needing some time to myself. Wandering now with no intention of ending up anywhere in particular, I peek my head into some dark, unused event room, then slip inside. I leave the door open as I head across the empty room—chairs stacked and tables slid against the back wall—and arrive at a set of long windows. Outside, it’s dark, the sun having set recently, and I try to imagine all of the happy kids and quirky teenagers out there trick-or-treating, filling up on candy and laughter.
I wonder if any of them realize how close the dead are to them at all times, walking between them, floating and wailing their sorrows for anyone to hear. How close Halloween always is, no matter the time of year. How the gateway to the other world is always itching to break open and spill out.