Don't Forget

I’m having trouble remembering exactly what happened last night. I remember taking some medicine and a Benadryl. There are little clips of time from last night that I remember perfectly. Like that brief second after my shower when I felt perfectly fine and it was like I was never sick, but the rest of the night didn’t happen that way. The most vivid memories of my evening begin with me running to the bathroom and hanging my head over a toilet. Nice memory
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It’s Christmas morning and it’s six in the morning. My stomach feels hollow, but at least that means it’s over. I feel fine, but I know I should be sleeping, but I can’t. This hotel room was like an infirmary last night and Kamden was the makeshift doctor. He wouldn’t stay in bed, he’d just follow me to make sure I didn’t die or something. Now he’s knocked out cold and that’s good because, he deserves the sleep. He needs it.

I don’t make much noise as I slip out of bed, not that he’ll notice. It’s stopped snowing and from the terrace, New York City looks like it’s blanketed in this sparkling layer of white, but looks can be deceiving.

I can barely get outside the door of the terrace, it’s almost totally snowed in. I’m tempted to open the door anyway, but that would be insane, considering the amount of snow that would start pouring in from the outside. And then there’s the noise. Christmas isn’t suppose to feel this way, that’s the only thing I know for sure.

I’m sitting in the arm chair closest to the French doors of the terrace and it’s completely and totally silent. It’ll be three hours before I can call Kamden, or before he can call me because, it’s three in the morning in Arizona and I’m positive those children are still fast asleep.

There’s something I need to do, something I can’t avoid it anymore and that terrifies me. There’s a point to this trip, a point to this whole thing, but I’ve been avoiding that point like the plague. Way to man up, Spencer.

“Merry Christmas.” I didn’t have to see it to know that he was smiling.

“Merry Christmas,” It’s doesn’t sound convincing or like it came out of a Christmas movie, but I think it’ll do the trick.

“What’s wrong?” I was wrong.

Kamden talks to me in a scratchy morning voice as he rests his chin on my shoulder and puts his hands over mine. Exactly how long have I been sitting here? And why didn’t I notice that he was awake before?

“Come on, Spencer. What’s wrong?” He kisses my cheek.

“Nothing,” I shrug.

“Spencer.” He knows I’m lying and it’s a joke that I thought I would actually get away with it.

“I’m scared,” I breathe.

“Of what?”

“I need to visit my Dad.”

“Here?”

“Yes,” I nod.

“That’s what we’re her for? He’s here.” Light bulb.

“I’ve never been to his grave- not once,” I run my hands over my face. Hearing it was worse than saying it.

“You’re scared.” He’s not trying to shame me or talk me down. He ‘s not trying to guilt me or make me feel bad for myself, it’s more like he’s just stating fact, raw fact.

“Would you come with me?” Right when I say it I’m expecting to feel regret, but I don’t. It feels right, it feels okay.

“Anywhere,” He smiles.

Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere.