We Only Breathe For So Long

I started walking towards that body sitting miserably on the cold, hard floor. Once I got closer and closer, I could recognize his perfectly gelled hair and the smell of his perfume that hung on the air.

“Hey, are you alright?” my words came out so softly that I thought he didn’t even hear me.

There was no reply.

I slowly sat down beside him and placed my chin above my knees while hugging them with my arms. After a couple of heartbeats, he lifted up his face and kept staring at the empty air. My head turned slightly to see his face, to check if he was physically hurt but he wasn’t. We didn’t say anything until after two full minutes when he turned his gaze to me with nothing but sadness in his eyes.

“I had a brother, a twin brother. He died two years ago,” he said with a hoarse voice, “It was a week before our birthday and Mom and Dad had grounded him for doing some stupid things. Green Day was in town and God… he loved that band.”

There was a long pause, he was caught up on his own thoughts and I was absorbing his sadness. He looked so fragile and vulnerable, like the wind could shatter him into millions of pieces with just one blow.

“A few weeks before, I had bought tickets to the concert as a birthday gift for him. But we couldn’t go because he couldn’t go. At that time, we didn’t care. On the night of the show, we sneaked out and pulled the car out of the garage. Chris insisted on driving and I didn’t mind that. But I should’ve minded, I was the one who usually drove when we used to go out together.”

He dropped his head again; somehow ashamed of himself for such a silly mistake and disappointment filled his chest for allowing it to happen. I could feel on his words that he regretted doing what he did, letting his brother drive.

“So we went. We were so excited and he was so happy. We were listening to their CD so we could get even more pumped to the show. We stopped at a red light and once it turned green, he stepped on the accelerator. We were right, we were driving responsibly,” he was saying that to himself and he sounded blunt to what had happened, “but someone else on the road wasn’t. He was drunk, sitting on the driver’s seat of a truck carrying loads. He crossed the red lights, he fucking crossed the red…” he half shouted and anger controlled him for a second. But as quick as it came, it left and silence settled in once again.

“We crashed. The truck came from the left side so Chris had no chance. He never had a chance and all I could do was watch, watch as the headlights of the truck blinded us and panic invaded our system. Soon to knock us out and for me to wake up in a hospital bed, to realize that we never made it to the show together. And that we wouldn’t make it home together …”

My vision was blurry and at that moment, I kept asking myself why good people always suffer the most. I didn't know what to say, he had just spilled his heart out for a stranger like me and I didn’t know which words could be used to comfort him. So I chose the truth, to comfort him with a loss I had myself.

“I’ve lost somebody too. And I’ve never told anyone about it like how I’m about to tell you…” I told him.

As I spoke, he lifted his head once again to look at me. His eyes were red. He made sure that no tears could be seen because that would’ve been too weak for him.

“It was on a Saturday. We usually used to go out for lunch on Saturdays afternoon. My dad, my mom and me. On that day, we decided to go to a new bistro that had just opened near where we lived,” I chuckled at the thought of how excited we were that day, “my dad said that we should go somewhere else, eat fish perhaps. But my mom insisted non-stop. She wanted to see it and try something new.”

I never – ever – talked with anybody about my mother’s death before because I couldn’t handle it. I was better off trying to avoid and forget the topic.

I opened my mouth to speak again and no sound would come out. I tried several times and I realized that I couldn’t be as brave as he was and talk about every detail. I just couldn’t, it was too much.

“So we went to the bistro and we ate. She loved it. She wanted to go back again there sometime soon. Just to find out that we would never go back. Because she wasn’t going to be with us,” tears were running down my cheeks. “Because a driverless car was heading towards us. Towards her…” I sobbed once or twice before completing my sentence.

He took my hand as a comforting gesture and whispered, “I’m sorry, Kylie.”

I rested my head on his shoulders and he rested his on my head. There was a long silence between us, a good one. The silence cleared our minds a little and gave me time to put myself together.

“I, I don’t know why I even told you this…” he said to me with confusion in his tone as if he was telling that more to himself than me.

I closed my eyes and let my mind drift off.

“It’s okay. I don’t know either, Eric.”

And that was the last thing I remember.