Holding Love

Clary: Slipping

Once we've hung up, I sigh and prepare myself for the boatload of calls ahead of me. I figure that the next people that deserve to hear the news are my parents. I dial the number to the house that I grew up in. Again, the phone barely has to ring once before I hear a click, followed by my mother's voice saying my name.

This phone call is very similar to the one with Will. It consists of a lot of crying and promises that, together, we can raise my forming child. This call is about fifteen minutes longer than the one with Will.

Once I'm finally allowed to hang up, I let out another sigh, giving myself a break. I've only gotten to call two people, and I'm already halfway home. I squint through the river running down my windshield as I try to think of who to call next. A name instantly pops up in my head.

Austin.

My best friend.

The one that I love, who never let me know that he loved me back. Not in the way I love him.

Ever since high school, when I realized that he's always been there for me like no one else, ever since I realized that he always would be, I've been in love with him. But I was so afraid that he wouldn't feel the same way, that I would lose him forever. So I just told myself that I could be content without him.

So that I could be with him. 

And here I am, ten years out of high school, and I'm still alive and happy, even though we're not together. I remember that he's on a date tonight, and I have to swallow a pang of jealousy that rises out of habit.  I scold myself, feeling childish for letting the ghost of an high school crush that I had get the best of me.

The idea that I could live without Austin had seemed nearly impossible to me as a teenager. I was a crazy girl with huge dreams that didn't come true, but I grew out of my dreams and found my Will, and now we're going to have a child together, and I'm as happy as ever. 

Still, though, even now, I wonder how my life would have turned out if Austin had revealed feelings like mine. 

I quickly shake these thoughts out of my head, reminding myself of how things actually are. Of how it doesn't matter what would have happened if Austin had told me he felt the same way. He's still my friend--the closest friend that I could ever wish for, in fact--and that's all that matters.  That's why I didn't confide in him my feelings in the first place.  So that that amazing friendship I'd known all my life wouldn't come to a sickening hault because of some crush.

I squint at the road.  It keeps getting harder and harder to see.  But I don't need to have a clear glimpse of the road to be able to tell that it was getting more slick by the second.  The road behind me seems unoccupied enough to slow down a little, so I do.  Don't want to run off the road with a baby inside.

I sigh, ready to start making calls again.  I pick up my phone and start to dial Austin's number.  I smile, excited to talk to my best friend, tell him the news.  I know he'll be excited just as much as the rest of my family.  He's the closest thing to a brother that I've ever had, so much so that I consider him a part of my family.

I grin as I envision my child coming to love my best friend.  I can see him or her laughing and playing with Austin when he visited, asking about him after he left.  I can see them talking to him about school and relationships as a teenager, just as I could when we were young.  I can see them waving to Austin at their high school graduation, which I am utterly confident he'll show up to if I ask him.  I might not even have to. 

I could never imagine a better person to look up to or a better future life for my child.

I don't need my parents' and Will's promises to know that this is going to all work out perfectly.

Finally, I can't stand waiting to talk to my best friend anymore, to hear his voice.  I quickly dial his number, which I have memorized from having dialed close to daily for a number of years.

I'm about to hit the call button and put the phone up to my ear when my car hits a bump.  My phone slips from my grasp and lands with a small thump on the floor.  I groan and look down at the bright screen, just out of my reach. 

I skim the dark road in front of and behind me.  Only two cars are on the road around me, a soccer mom van behind me traveling at the same slow, cautious pace as me, and an eighteen-wheeler towing a Coca-Cola trailer in the lane to the left of me that had just passed my car a second ago.

I decide that it's safe enough to avert my gaze for a second, unbuckle my seat belt, and bend down to retrieve my fallen phone. I duck my head below the steering wheel and feel around for my rubbery phone case.  At last, my fingers close around it.

"Thank you," I say aloud, sitting back up.

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion.

I'm grabbing my seat belt so that I can refasten it when the huge truck in front of me starts to slide.  I hear the screech of its brakes as the driver tries desperately to slow down.  But it's too late.  The wheels on the trailer's tires just continue to spin and squeal loudly.

The trailer starts to shift to the right, blocking the road in front of me. 

I slam on the brakes, but I get the same result as the truck driver did.  My car continues to move toward the mass now blocking most of the interstate. 

I try to swerve to the right, onto the grass beside the road, but it only takes my car into a gut-wrenching spin.  A scream escapes from my lips as I see the blur of the trucks red trailer come closer.

After what seems like hours of spinning and seeing the truck grow larger, I see the trailer break off and start to flip and bounce off the road like a toy thrown by a child.  I stare blankly at it, watching it come closer.  I can't even scream anymore.

In that moment, I know that I'm about to die.

I'm instantly unaware of my surroundings, of the horrible, deadly situation that I'm in. I no longer feel the mortal terror that one would expect to go along with death.  In fact, I'm not afraid at all.

Just sad.

So many people come to my mind.  People that I love.  People that love me.  People who I know will be devastated when they find out that I've passed on.  Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I feel sorry for them.  I know how it feels to have someone you love die, and I'm utterly confident that the pain of death could never compare to it by a long shot.

Among all the faces that drift into a cloudy, sad collage in my mind, one stands out above all the others.  A face of someone that mattered to me more than any material thing in the word.  The person that had always been there when I needed him.  The person who, years ago, I had fallen in love with.  The person who I had never gotten over, and I know I never will.

Austin Johnson.

Hope you liked it!  The second part is coming up.  Don't forget to vote, comment and fan! Thanks!