Memory Lane

Chapter Forty Three

This book will be completed on October 31st, 2023. Only 3 chapters left, including this one!

"Why abandon a belief just because it ceases to be true?" -Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Forty Three

"Laura, what happened?" Allen asks, his voice fast and panicked as he holds me.

I cling to his hoodie as if he's the only thing holding me up. Because, at this point, he is.

He was there. He was in the truck. I fell in love with him after countless nights in that truck.

Bile begins stirring in my stomach. It churns all around, like an angry sea as I continue to choke out my tears. As the thoughts continue to hammer my head, the bile rises to my throat and chokes me. I have to gasp for any air. My body starts to shake, my chest starts to burn, and I grasp weakly on Allen's shirt.

"Laura?" Allen repeats, holding me the best he can. "Laura!"

He gently brings us to the ground where I curl into him and continue to choke on my sobs, gasping for my breath. Pretty soon, I realize my shock has graduated into a full blown panic attack.

"Shit," Allen breathes, eyes wide and worried behind his glasses. "Come on, Laura. Take some deep breaths for me, okay?"

I try to focus on what he's saying, shutting my eyes tight as the pain in my chest intensifies.

"You're doing great. Breathe in slowly through your nose," Allen soothes, "take a nice, deep breath. Good. Keep that in and count to three."

One. Two. Three.

"Good job. Now let that out slowly through your mouth, okay? Count to three again." I do as he says and he nods, rubbing my back. "That's good, Laura. That's really good. In through your nose, hold it...One, two, three. Great, let it out slowly."

Allen continues to gently coach me through my breathing until my chest no longer feels constricted and the need to vomit all but disappears. It takes nearly fifteen minutes for me to calm down, but when I finally do, my body relaxes. Allen gently lets me go and I move, slumping back against my bed. In a lame attempt to distract my mind, I focus on the feeling of the shag carpet underneath my feet, the heavy comforter padding on my back, and the smell of the heat warming the house from the old radiator. As I feel the shag carpet, my foot hits something small and round and the memory of throwing my mascara at Jesse nearly puts me into another wave of tears.

"You okay now?" Allen asks, moving to sit next to me. He adjusts his glasses, the overhead light glinting off of them and sending a beam of light onto the newspaper now laying discarded on the floor.

I eye it scornfully. Regretfully.

I wish that I hadn't found out. Ignorance is bliss, right?

But then, I'm also disgusted with myself for the thought of living without knowing. How far would the relationship have gone?

I shake my head in response to Allen's question, bottom lip quivering.

"What happened?" He asks gently.

I close my eyes as tears well up. Instead of responding, I just lamely point to the newspaper across the floor as I stare at the ceiling. With a furrowed brow, Allen leans forward and reaches his long arm to grab the newspaper, sitting comfortably back next to me. I flinch as the paper crinkles under his grip.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to fight away the thoughts that are mocking me. Tearing me down.

I constantly wondered what my mom and dad would think of Jesse. I imagined my dad meeting him for the first time and shaking his hand. I pictured my dad's attempt to be intimidating but ultimately failing and sharing a few laughs with Jesse. That loud, boisterous laugh he had... Jesse would have loved it. I pictured my mom, doting on Jesse and sharing her poetry with him. I know he'd sit and listen intently, with that small smile on his face. I've even pictured us all watching Jeopardy together, where both of my parents would be astonished at the way Jesse can run any history category. They'd have been so impressed by him.

They would have loved him. I even convinced myself that wherever they are, they've been looking down and loving him for how happy he makes-made me.

Now, all I can think is that the entire time I was getting to know Jesse, they were nothing but angry and hateful for the boy in the truck that took their lives. And there I was, using him as my reason to heal.

The thought just sends another wave of tears over me. My head drops into my lap as I sob, shoulders shaking as my body nearly dries up of tears.

Allen sets the newspaper down, instead opting to rub my back. "Is this article what's wrong?"

I suck down my tears and shrug as I sit up, unable to use my voice yet.

"Had you not read it before?" Allen asks, trying to find the root of the problem.

I take a few moments to steady my breathing and keep the tears at bay, finally looking at him. "I haven't. I won't. But..." I pause, breathing in a shaky breath, "He was on that road that night, Allen."

He frowns, "I don't understand..."

"The truck that pushed us off the road?"

Allen nods.

I'm quiet for a moment, trying to keep away the tears. Finally, with a shaky voice, I tell him.

"It was Jesse."

Allen's jaw clenches hard. His whole body does. He snaps his gaze back to the article, taking a few moments to think of what to say.

"You haven't read this?"

I shake my head.

"Has he?"

"No," I say weakly. "He only saw the date and... we pieced it together."

Allen nods slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Maybe you should read it."

I frown, gingerly sitting up and reaching for the newspaper. My heart sputters painfully as I eye the image on the page and I quickly look away. Instead, I focus on the words on the page and begin reading. When I finish, I know one thing for certain.

I need to talk to Jesse.

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