It had been two weeks since I'd left Clay. Some days I just wanted to know how he was, but I knew I couldn't do that. Every time I picked up the phone, I pictured him on the beach, tears in his eyes, the years flying off his clock as if they were seconds. That shook me out of it pretty quick.
The next time I went to the Tree, there was no sign of Clay anywhere. Gone were all of his tools, his bikes, and, somehow, his smell. The grass was still matted where his bike tires sat and his kickstand held it up. Not even a note was left for me, but I deserved that. I was just doing what I had to do.
The past two weeks I had fallen back into my routine. I took Clover for several walks a day, spent a lot of time at the Tree, and when I wasn't at the Tree I was at Tia's house.
Matt and I had hardly spoken at all. I was not yet up to apologizing to him. I had said some pretty hurtful things and I knew it, but I also meant every word. I wouldn't apologize for the truth. I wouldn't apologize for knowing more about him than he was willing to admit to himself, clocks and otherwise.
Jane was getting bigger. She did end up getting kicked out of her house, and was now living with us. It added an extra 10 minute commute to her college, but she didn't mind one bit. A few days ago she came out of her bedroom squealing with glee.
"I'm showing!!!" she cried, bounding downstairs to show Matt, who was getting ready to head to his new job at the automotive shop. "Look!" Jane held Matt's hand to her stomach. It curved slightly as he held it tight to her.
"That's amazing," Matt said, kissing Jane on the forehead. "I love you so much. And you too," he smiled, poking Jane's newfound bump.
I watched the whole thing go down from where I was perched at the kitchen table, pretending to be uninterested as I scrolled through my phone and ate my cereal, but I was so excited for them. As angry as I was at Matt, I'd never seen him happier.
And now we've arrived to today. I rolled out of bed, and immediately Clover was on me, leash held in her mouth.
"Girl, I just woke up," I groaned, swiping it out of her mouth. I could see the sadness in her eyes, realizing how mean that was. "I'm sorry," I patted her on the head. "We'll go in a minute."
It was practically a literal minute. I brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair, threw on some shoes and we were out the door.
Not only had my days become routine, but so had any interactions with the clocks. The smiles I gave to people felt fake, but I felt somewhat good when I saw their time slow. When I broke up a fight between one scrawny little kid and three kids twice his size, it felt like I was just going through the motions, but it was mildly reassuring when I saw the look on the little one's face.
I passed different houses, different faces, but all somehow the same. When I passed one house in particular though, something felt like it was calling me. It wasn't Clay's but I couldn't remember whose it was.
You don't have to be looking for anything.
It was Edith's. I remembered the mysterious conversation with her so long ago, talking about the Tree. It was reassuring to remember that day and the powers of the Tree. All the memories it held, all the lessons it has taught me. Yeah, it had brought me a lot of hurt, but the Tree solved any problem I gave it. And I didn't even have to be looking for anything.
So Clover and I continued on towards the Tree, through it's thick leaves and onto my chaise. Clover curled up onto the grass next to me, munching on it sleepily. Walks wore her out, no matter how much she loved them and always begged for another.
I was trying to enjoy my book, but something felt off. I looked around my eyes resting on my treehouse. It had been ages since I'd been up there. Without hesitation I climbed up the steps on the trunk, squeezing myself into the space that used to be so big when I was a kid and now I barely had room to turn around in. I picked up one of the first books I saw-- my grandma's journal. I chuckled to myself. No, I didn't have to be looking for anything, but the Tree always seemed to point me in the direction of what I needed. Some advice from the only person who has ever gone through the same thing as me would be a nice thing.
When I opened the journal, an envelope came tumbling out. How had I never seen that stuck between the pages before?
It was greatly aged, yellow water spots surrounding the edges. I pulled the seal open and began to read the letter, which was addressed to me.
Eva,
I hope this letter finds you at a time when you need it the most. Our power always seems to find us what we need when we need it the most. Life is funny that way.
I'm getting close to the end now. I can feel it. But I know there is one lesson that I've learned that isn't recorded in these journals. It is this: there are going to be times when you feel like you can't do anything. When no matter what you do, you can't fix that clock, you can't help them, you can't do anything but hurt them.
My sweet girl, you can't take the job of fate upon your shoulders.
I've learned over the years that the clocks may feel like a curse. I tell you they are a gift because, most of all, they teach us that the only way we can help other people is to be there for them. No matter what is going on in someone's life, no matter how lonely they feel, the only way you can help them is to be there for them. It is so easy to run away when you know you can't fix things; when all you feel is that you're hurting the ones you love. But you have to trust fate, my dear. You have to trust that in the end, you can't stop the way of the world, but you can help those who need it.
Be there for the ones that need you, Eva. Be there for the ones who have nothing, because the ones who have nothing just need a friend, and that can be you.
My head began to spin. All my life I'd felt as if I had to be the fixer. In fact, this grandma had been the one for so many years that had me convinced that it was my job to help everyone, to change the path of fate, to fix it.
It's funny how you can hear the words you need when you least expect it.
The world has been there for me for so long, and now I need to learn how to be there for it. To be the friend to the ones who need it. To be the decider.
But I couldn't decide what I couldn't control.
All I could do was be there for the people who needed me, and I knew one person who needed me more than anyone.
I felt like time had slowed down but was at the same time flying by. Like I was running through jello. I tied Clover up to the Tree, promising I'd be back later but not wanting her to follow me. And then I ran. As fast as I could.
You don't have to be looking for anything.
I wasn't.
Let fate run its course, Eva.
I am.
Where was Eva?
I am right here.
As I ran towards Clay's house, I saw a nasty car accident in our neighborhood. This wouldn't have fazed me, if I didn't see a crumpled bike that had been hit, thrown into the middle of the road. I knew that bike anywhere.
I screamed for Clay, ignoring the adults that had begun to gather around and running straight into the wreckage. There were two cars involved, one seeming to hit the other one that had stopped for Clay, the force slamming both cars into Clay and sending him and his bike flying. I found him lying on the curb, a good distance away from the cars. He had really flown.
It was another moment when time seemed to slow to a stop. No longer could I see Clay's clock, but again only the pain in his face. His helmet was cracked, and I saw red trickling down from it. I took him helmet off, surveying the damage of the crack running down the side of his head, soaking his hair. A bystander held their phone, presumably calling the paramedics, to their ear, rushing to take off their sweatshirt and held it to me, instructing me to hold it firmly to Clay's head to slow the bleeding. I did what I was told.
I pulled Clay's head into my lap. His eyes blinked open and he flinched when he saw me, like I was going to hurt him. The panic that flickered in his eyes made my heart ache.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "I'm so, so sorry. But I'm not going anywhere, I promise." The tears started to fall again, staining my face. They came faster and faster but I tried to hold them back, focusing on compressing the bleeding from Clay's head.
I heard sirens in the distance. EMTs came jumping out ambulances, rushing to help the victims in the cars. I cried out for help. They hardly seemed to notice. But I knew at least I was there.
Finally a bystander pointed a pair of EMTs over to Clay. They rushed over, pulling on blue gloves as they ran, calling for a stretcher. They took Clay away from me, thanking me but hurriedly dismissing me as they pulled Clay onto the cotton sheets, his blood staining them.
Above the chaos, I heard my name loud and clear. Matt was running towards me, Jane following close behind. Matt wrapped me up in a hug, holding me so tight, smoothing my hair as I cried into him.
"I'm so sorry, Matt. I'm so sorry," I repeated over and over again.
He shushed me, telling me it was okay. "How do you know him?"
"I love him," I whispered. Matt, a bit confused but understanding just nodded, holding me tight. I felt a hand rubbing my back.
I turned around to hug Jane, apologizing to her too. She took me by the shoulders, looking into my eyes and said, "I am here for you."
That was all I needed.
I clung to Matt as I watched them load Clay up and take him away, the ambulance screeching as it's tired burned to get him to the hospital fast. I saw Mr. Walker out of the corner of my eye. He really was weak, pale and wearing a sweater despite the heat. It hadn't been long at all since I first met him, but cancer has a way of progressing exponentially. He looked so confused. He'd probably seen his son hop on his bike just fine a few minutes ago, and just watched them take him away on a stretcher.
"Clay! Clay! That's my son! That's my son! Where are you taking my son?!" Mr. Walker called out as loud as his failing lungs could muster. He then went into a coughing fit as a paramedic rubbed his back, calmly telling him what had happened. I walked over to him, unsure of how he would react to me. Did he know what I'd done to Clay?
"Eva!" Mr. Walker exclaimed as soon as he saw me, wrapping me in a panicked embrace. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you too?" he asked frantically, scanning me for injuries.
"I'm okay," I said, taking Mr. Walker's hand. "You should go to him."
Mr. Walker gave me a tight lipped smile. "I'm not well enough to drive."
He really was bad.
"Then I'll take you," I said, squeezing his hand and patting it with my other. "Let's go."
We began to walk to my house when Matt stopped me. "Eva, you can't have..." Matt paused, searching for a name.
"Dan. Dan Walker."
"You can't have Mr. Walker walk that far, it's a half mile and he doesn't look well at all. I'll run and get the car, I'll be back in 5 minutes," Matt said, giving me a look I'd only seen a few times in my life-- this was the decision he made, and there was nothing I could say that would change it.
And so we waited. People began to go back into their homes. Police cars rolled in and began talking to each of the drivers, carefully filing an incident report. No one, thank goodness, was seriously injured. Other than Clay.
Matt pulled up in my car, throwing me the keys. "Be careful," he warned.
I helped Mr. Walker into the passenger's seat and then jumped into the driver's, speeding us towards the hospital.