Miss, Do I Know You?

26 - Saturday, January 23

My weekend, usually so vibrant with the melodic tunes of the band and my friends, was today filled with an unfamiliar stillness, punctuated by the drumbeat anxiety. Not just my own.

Though my stay in Darby had been but a fleeting five months, it had carved a niche in my heart, while Toronto had receded into the dim crevices of memory like a vivid dream yielding to the morning's reality. With its familiar contours and landscapes, it embraced me with a strange sense of knowing, decorated with memories that danced between the fond and bittersweet to the woefully painful.

It was where I had taken my first tentative steps into adulthood, relished the giddy thrill of first friendships, the electric spark of a first kiss, and the comforting warmth of my mom's food that tasted of love and home. Each street harbored stories. But beneath the sheen of happiness lurked shadows of sorrow, fragments of a past that clung to me and whispered of events I longed to bury and forget.

When I brought the car to a halt, my gaze found Alex. I studied her, absorbing the anxious dance of her teeth against her lower lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, and the unsteady beat of her fingers against her thigh. A motion that usually matched our driving music was now a jagged rhythm, uncoordinated and frantic, one that spoke clearly of her nerves.

My hand found her upper thigh, as instinctive as the breath drawn into my lungs. "Try not to think of the worst, okay? It might turn out better than you expect."

"But if it doesn't?"

"Then just remember that you don't have to stay a minute longer than you want."

Her hand trembled atop mine, her apprehension an invisible current that I could palpably feel. Her features were wrought with tension, her eyes darting around. My fingers curled around hers in a comforting clasp, as if I could squeeze the anxiety out of her soul.

"Will you come inside?" she implored, her voice laced with nervous staccato. "Please, Kay. At least come with me to the door. I think Gabi should be waiting in the lobby. I'm so anxious I think I'm going to faint, and I—"

"Alex," I interrupted her nervous cascade of words. She had done so much for me, and now the time had arrived for me to muster bravery, to set aside my dread of hospitals and be there for her. "Of course I'll go with you, don't worry."

It was a sight that clawed at my very soul. She was wracked with a kind of anxiety that had been a stranger to my previous experiences with her, that I had seldom seen before. Almost as if teetering on the brink of a breakdown. My heart ached with the wish to lift it from her shoulders, to take it all away, and to wrap her up in an embrace where her distress could dissolve, leaving not even the faintest trace of its cruel touch.

As we eventually left the car, familiarity engulfed me, resonating with the countless days and nights I had invested in the city's embrace, exploring its veined streets and navigating its concrete maze. But this place was different. Whispering secrets only my very bones seemed to comprehend, eeriness crawled under my skin.

In the lobby, we were immediately accosted by the air, thickened with a putrid stench, that sickening smell of antiseptic that reeked of memories best left untouched. A pall of death seemed to drape the atmosphere, everything jarringly stilled. The strange sensation only mutated, growing ever more peculiar, burrowing a gnawing disquiet into my soul.

"You actually came." Gabi materialized before us. "You okay? Where's Benji?"

Alex shook her head, her voice quiet. "We took him to Owen's. And it's the smell."

Gabi's features clouded with concern. "Right," she exhaled. "Kayla? Why are you so pale? Everything okay?"

Nothing was okay. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm as the cold hand of realization grasped my soul. The present blurred into nothingness as the past clawed its way into dominance, rooting me to the spot.