I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Me too.”
“You can’t stop crying either?” She tried to laugh, but it came out forced.
“Yeah, that. But we had a fight before she died. I told her she was a liar. And that she’d never given me any reason to believe in her. I can’t stop thinking about what I said. I know exactly how you’re feeling.”
Kennedy started crying even harder. “I just want to tell her that I’m sorry. And that she was the best friend I’ve ever had. And I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
“Me either.”
We were both silent as we stared down at the ground. I didn’t know what to say to her because I felt the same guilt. But I did know what Kennedy needed to hear. “She knew that we loved her.” She had to have known.
“It’s silly,” said Kennedy, “but I was going to sit here and reminisce with her. Remind myself about all the good times to convince myself that she did know.” She handed me a photo album. “But since you’re here, I think you should have this. It was going to be my wedding present to the two of you.”
I opened it up and saw a picture of Brooklyn smiling at the camera. Page after page of her laughing and smiling…at me. Just the way I remembered. Her whole face was lit up. I smiled when I saw pictures from the homecoming game. Shots of me dancing like a fool and Brooklyn grinning with joy. Pure joy. I’d made her feel that.
“I know it’s a cheap gift,” Kennedy said. “But I…”
“It’s perfect,” I said. I didn’t have any pictures of Brooklyn. And for some reason, it was like her face had started to get blurry in my head. I needed this. “Thank you,” I said.
“This isn’t right.” Kennedy sniffed. “She’d been through so much. And she was finally happy. No one so kind and wonderful should be allowed to only have such little happiness in their whole life. It’s not fair.”
No, it wasn’t. But life wasn’t fair. If it was, Brooklyn’s mom and uncle would still be alive. But if Brooklyn’s mom was still alive, I never would have met Brooklyn. She never would have moved to New York. She’d still be alive.
This city was what killed her. Mr. Pruitt killed her. And there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. Because Brooklyn’s name was on those papers, signing away her kidney to her sick dad. And Mr. Pruitt owned the cops. And the lawyers. He was the untouchable one. Not me.
“I’m really glad she had you,” Kennedy said. She pointed to one of the pictures of Brooklyn and me at the Halloween party dancing.
I wished I could have rewound time to that night. I would have held her close and not let go. I would have insisted we leave town. Get away from her crazy family. But I didn’t do that. I’d thought I could keep her safe. I’d been wrong.
I wanted to blame anyone but myself. Because all I could feel was guilt swallowing me whole. I’d said terrible things to her. I hadn’t answered her calls. I’d let her stay in that monster’s home instead of bringing her back with me. And I’d pretended she was a dirty little secret. When in reality? She was my whole fucking world.
We sat there in silence. I wasn’t even sure how long. We just sat and sat. She didn’t say a word as I cried. So I didn’t say a word about her tears either. I think we both just needed to be close to Brooklyn. And it was nice that there was someone else that seemed to care as much as I did. Brooklyn was loved. And she’d always be loved.
“It’s getting late,” Kennedy said. “We should probably get going.”
I closed the photo album. I could barely see it in the encroaching darkness anyway. “You go ahead.”
“You’re staying?”
I stared at her. “Where else am I supposed to go?” My whole life was here. I couldn’t fathom moving from this spot. I just…I couldn’t. Not now. Not tonight.
Kennedy nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay too.”
“You don’t have to…”
“She would have wanted me to. She would have wanted me to make sure you were okay.”
My stupid tears started up again. “I’m not okay. I don’t know how to be okay.”
“I know.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “So I’m just going to stay too. We can be not okay together. For however long it takes.”
Forever. I would forever not be okay.
My friends didn’t understand. They thought not talking about Brooklyn would help. And maybe it would help them. But it wouldn’t help me. It seemed like Kennedy was the only one who understood. I couldn’t let Brooklyn just fade away. I wouldn’t. “I don’t ever want to forget about her. And no one else understands. I can’t forget her. I can’t stop loving her.”