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My Love is Gone (Part One)
“Hello?” She answered the phone, on the third ring; a habit of hers.
“Hi.” I said, casually. I knew she already knew it was me.
“Hi,” she said back, a little sweeter now; she’s sweet as it is. But that’s only one reason why I love her.
Her name’s Aimee.
She is absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.
Her long blonde hair hangs in her face at the perfect places. Her bright blue eyes can be seen from miles away.
But that doesn’t even begin to cover it; she’s more than skin deep.
We’d been together for over a year, but it felt like we’d been together all of our lives; we knew we were meant for each other, that we’d be together until death. We were perfect together, and everyone told us so.
There wasn’t anything we did without one another. We were best friends; sewn together at the hip.
She was definitely my world, everything to me. I didn’t picture a day without her, I couldn’t, it wasn’t right.
“Are you ready?”
We were going to the coffee shop downtown to meet Lewis Buckner: Our favorite author.
That’s another thing: We were so much alike.
We both devoted our days to reading, expanding our horizons, doing something with our lives. We were both the type of people that didn’t want to waste our days sitting on the couch doing nothing. We wanted to get out there, be somebody, and see the world; and then write about it. It was our nature.
Although I was more of a writer, I still loved to read; but not as much as Aimee. There was no way any person in the world read as much as she did, and enjoyed every minute, every second of it. And Lewis made her enjoy it even more; he enthralled her. Maybe more than even I did.
I mean, she loved reading my stories, but they were always about her. Well, most of the time. Her favorites were the ones that weren’t about her, though.
“Yeah, I’m just waiting on you. Where are you?”
“On my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I heard her giggle: I love that sound, I thought. I flipped the phone shut, hanging up. I put the phone in the console of my car.
I was eager to see her again, although I just saw her last night. My fingers were tapping the steering wheel, and I was actually speeding (I was the type of driver that only drove the exact speed limit).
The red stop light stopped me three blocks from her house. I sat, waiting, impatiently, drumming my fingers a little harder now. Nothing was coming, why was the light red? I gunned the gas, running the light. Right as I passed the corner I sat at, I saw the big yellow semi heading towards me. I freaked, and stomped the gas, avoiding the blow from the semi.
I sighed in relief, although I’d almost pissed my pants from the scare. I slowed, not risking anything.
A few seconds later, I was at Aimee’s. She was standing, all beautiful-looking (like always) on the porch, waiting. It began to lightly sprinkle, and the drops that landed on her face ran down like tears. She ran across the rest of the yard, and around my blue Toyota Camry, jumping into the passenger seat.
She smiled, and threw her almost-wet bangs out of her eyes.
“Hi,” she said, in her delicate, precise voice. “It’s starting to rain.” She pointed out, like I hadn’t seen.
“I know,” I said, stifling a laugh. “You’re sort of wet.” I smoothed away the raindrops that had landed on her face. She gave a little blush, but not as much as when we first met. I sort of missed that. But I was also glad she wasn’t embarrassed when she was with me anymore.
I pulled my seatbelt across me, and started the car again. I checked to see if anything was coming, and pulled out. I heard a loud honk, and slammed the brakes, Aimee catching herself on the dashboard. The white KIA pulled around me, flipping me the bird the whole way. I checked again, positive this time that nothing was coming, and slowly pulled out.
“Sorry about that,” I said to Aimee, as we stopped at the stop sign. Luckily the KIA went right, and I went left.
She kind of laughed, shaking it off. “It’s okay,” she said. “At least no one got hurt.”
We talked the whole way, never running out of anything to say.
I pulled into the coffee shop, noticing the excitement Aimee held in. I smiled at her.
I went around to her side of the car to open the door for her, always a gentleman.
We went inside, Aimee gripping my arm with excitement of meeting her favorite author. He stood at a table with multiple books in front of him, obviously his own. He wore a gray suede suit (in summer), and had a full gray beard that contrasted with his blonde, thinning hair. Aimee released me, running to him. I went to the counter and ordered two coffees, black. I could hear her excited screeching about how much she loved Buckner.
I took her coffee to her, excitement boiling up in my own skin. I introduced myself to Lewis Buckner, telling him how much his work inspires me.
We brewed up a conversation with him, Aimee and I practically the only people there, that lasted at least an hour. We talked about his work, Aimee’s work, my work.
Aimee and I didn’t want to leave but Lewis had another signing to get to.
“It was very nice meeting the both of you. You are very fine young adults with bright futures ahead of you. And you are lovely together.” He winked at Aimee, smiling at me. “I hope to meet up again with you some day.” He’d given us his email address, apparently as fond of us as we were him.
After he left, Aimee and I got a coffee to go, and headed out.
We watched Lewis Buckner’s black SUV pull out ahead of us, and headed back into town.
“You want something to eat?” I looked over at Aimee. “You don’t have anything going on today, do you?”
“No, let’s get something to eat.” She didn’t sound completely sure.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, where do you want to go?”
I started looking for somewhere to go, when I saw Dina’s Diner on the other side of the road. I tried getting in the other lane, but the car behind me wouldn’t let me in, and didn’t pass me. I couldn’t wedge in, between the car in front of me and the car behind me. I was almost at the entrance, but still couldn’t get in the other lane.
I tried again, and the blue Escape behind me sped up, almost smashing into the side of me. I swerved out of the way, almost getting hit on the other side. Scared to death, I pulled into the closest drive-in I could manage.
Aimee and I, both breathing heavily, sat, exasperated from the scare.
“What’s with you today, Max?” She asked me.
“I… I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling. Maybe you should drive.”
We got out of the car, and switched sides, her now behind the wheel.
She pulled out, trying to find a good restaurant. We saw a Marti’s up the street, a big blue building with a white pillared roof and window panes. She got in the left lane to turn into it, but the semi behind us didn’t see the blinker, apparently, and slammed right into the back of the car, spinning us around into the car beside us, that smashed into the front end of my car. My head wrenched around, into the window, and the seat restraint was pulled tight against my neck. Aimee wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and when the car hit sending us into the car ahead of it she came up off her seat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and I tried to reach out to her, but my arms wouldn’t let me. They sat frozen and numb at my sides, preventing any movement. She pulled her arm up, to guard her head, as she flew over the steering wheel when the impact hit. The glass of the windshield broke, slicing through her arm. I broke through the trance I was in and reached out for her, but at the speed we were going, I couldn’t get to her in time.
The next thing I knew, I was looking through a broken windshield, in the driver’s seat, with my girlfriend sprawled and bloody on the ground in front of the car. My eyes blurred as I stared at her eyes. The shock I was in prevented me from screaming, and when I finally looked up from her, the people from the other vehicles surrounded my car, and my dead girlfriend. People were screaming, crying, flailing their arms. Multiple people were on their cell phones, most calling their family for comfort, others caring enough to phone the police and a too-late ambulance.
I felt paralyzed. There wasn’t a bone in my body that would move.
I saw women hugging their children as their husbands consoled the wives, telling them everything would be fine. I saw little children with tears streaming their faces for the stranger they didn’t know. I saw passersby curiously wondering what had happened, and then seeing the shock hit their face as they found my girlfriend and her blood amongst the cement.
Shortly, the police and ambulance were here.
The first cop came up to me, without seeing Aimee first, and I just stared ahead, watching her face.
He noticed what I was staring at, and started yelling for the paramedics. I saw the disgust take over his face, but the simple sadness behind the non-emotional mask these guys must have to wear to do their jobs correctly. He knocked on my window, as the paramedics lifted Aimee onto the stretcher, carefully. I didn’t look up at the cop outside my door, until the paramedics had Aimee carted away. The cop opened my door, and knelt down beside me outside the car. I still didn’t look, but I let him know I was acknowledging him.
“Son?” He asked, as if I were related to him in any way. He laid his hand on my arm that gripped the bottom of the steering wheel. “Son, I’m sorry about all of this. It isn’t your fault. But, as regulatory rules, I need to ask you a few mandatory questions. Do you mind stepping outside the car?” I pushed his hand off of my arm, one of the only movements I’d made. He stood, expecting me to stand with him. I didn’t.
“Pat!” The cop yelled, awfully loud.
A woman cop appeared a few seconds later, at my side. I didn’t look into her eyes, but again, she knew I knew she was beside me.
She knelt down like the first cop, lying her hand on my arm. Her fingers were long and bony, sort of cold, which stung my arm, reminding me of Aimee’s fingers.
“My name is Pat,” she said to me, obviously trying to get me to talk. “What’s your name?” She asked me. I couldn’t help but tell her.
“Max.” I forced out.
“Hello, Max. Listen Max, we need to ask you a few questions about your friend-“
“Girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend,” I cut her off. I saw the sadness and pity in her eyes when I said that.
“Max, we need to know these things in order for there to be any way to help her. Will you help us?” She said in her same soft, mothering voice.
“Good,” I heard the smile on her face appear in her words, giving a sense of false hope. I knew Aimee was gone. “Can you come over to the Officer’s vehicle?”
“Yes.” I stepped out of the car, but as soon as I did so, my legs gave from under me. I collapsed onto the ground, but Pat came to help me up.
“Are you alright, Max? Is there anything physically wrong with you? Were you hurt in any way? We need to know Max, so we can help you.”
“I’m fine. Just…just scared.”
She didn’t say anything. Because there was nothing to say. What do you say to someone whose girlfriend just died in front of your eyes and you didn’t do a darn thing about it? She shouldn’t ever feel sorry for me.
We walked over to the police car, and she allowed me to sit in the front seat instead of standing.
“Max, what’s your girlfriends name?” Pat asked me.
“Aimee. Aimee Anita Price.”
“How did this accident occur?”
“We were pulling into the left lane, but the semi behind us didn’t see, I guess, and hit the back of our car which spun us around to slam into the car behind us in the left lane that also hit us, and sent us into the car in front of us. That’s when Aimee flew out.”
“Who was driving, Max? You or Aimee?”
I didn’t know what I should say, so I just said what came natural: “Me.”
She looked up at me, with deep sorrow in her eyes. I wanted to smack her, telling her not to look at me like that.