Part 48 (1/2)
Please, will you be my friend?
Will you be the boy who rescues me?
Will you be the boy who makes me sing?
Will you make me true to who I am?
If you're leaving, take me with you,
Here's my hand.
If you're leaving, take me with you,
Here's my hand.
I finish the song. The applause is reverent. Everyone is still crying. I move through the crowd to Scott. The people stopping me and hugging me were Derek's real world. The people he let in. The ones who really knew him. His old girlfriend from the AYS. Meg and his doctors. Blake. The Amabile directors. All the guys. This giant wonderful family he grew up with.
I'm a fantasy. A myth. A digital recording-deleted with ease. I'm something else. Somewhere else. I don't belong here.
But I am here. I would have cared for him and loved him for the rest of my life. I held his hand while he went beyond. The pain I feel is every bit as real as that pretty pet.i.te girl I unwittingly stole him from. I loved him. I still love him. I'm clogged with the ache of it. I can't bear to look back.
When I look forward, there's Scott, and he catches my arm, supporting me like I'll faint.
I lean on him. ”How'd you get here?”
”Your mom.”
I see her now-standing in the back. ”Will you ride home with me? I'm not sure I can drive.”
He nods. ”You bet.” He takes the keys and guides me out of there.
All the way home, I sit slumped in my seat with my head down.
Scott doesn't speak. I'm grateful for the s.p.a.ce.
We get to the house. I still sit there like a zombie. He comes around and opens my door. A gust of clear, crisp air sends a s.h.i.+ver to my core. Scott takes my hand and helps me to my feet.
We've been here before. His warm arms go around me-feels like home.
I drop my head onto his shoulder.
The tears come. Slow and hot. Each one agony to produce.
Scott caresses my back and says, ”I'm sorry, Bethie. I'm so, so sorry.”
It doesn't make any sense. What does he have to be sorry for? All he ever did was love me. It makes sense in my heart, though. His soothing hand and comforting voice-his shoulder mutes my sobs, opens my heart, and wrings it out.