In Another Life

Silence ensued.

Clara stared at the notification announcing the arrival of her Uber, her frown deepening by the second.

"Did you hit your head that hard, Darren? Your parents just died, and you're telling me to leave you here alone?" she finally asked.

My right leg was in a cast, and an IV needle was inserted into the back of my left hand.

I leaned against the headboard and replied, "I'm not alone. There are doctors, nurses, and a lawyer handling this entire case for me. Things aren't gonna fall apart just because you leave."

Clara's expression darkened. "Excuse me? I'm sorry, is this some kinda test? I don't like being tested this way, Darren."

I almost laughed. I'd always been too fond of testing her.

Would she pass by staying? Would she pass by showing that she cared about me? I tested her so often that, eventually, I even started believing her when she gave me the answers I wanted to hear.

Clara's phone vibrated.

Logan had sent her a voice note. "I've gone past security, Clara. There's no need to come. There's no need... for calls, either. Nothing will change."

For the most part, Logan sounded even-keeled. But when he reached the last line, his voice seemed to crack slightly.

Clara's fingers curled around her phone.

I read out the Uber's license plate number and added, "Get going already. The driver's here."

She studied my face, searching for any hint of resentment, bitterness, or one of those "tests" I was so prone to devising. But there was nothing in my expression to suggest that I secretly wanted her to stay.

She picked up her coat. "I'm just gonna tell him what I really think. I'll be back as soon as possible."

I nodded. "Got it."

"See you."

Then she was gone.

A while later, a nurse entered with a wheelchair. She placed two clear bags on my lap: one containing my dad's watch and the other my mom's pearl bracelet.

"Mr. Bronx, the funeral home needs the family to confirm the cremation time. Is there anyone else here with you?" the nurse asked.

"No," I replied, caressing one of the bloodstained pearls through the plastic.

In my last life, Clara had been the one who helped me handle all of this.

Everyone had praised her for it. They called her kind, generous, helpful, and an invaluable friend. They said she had been willing to let go of the man she loved most for my sake.

And so the narrative went: I owed her twenty years of her life.

Not anymore. This time, I was the one who signed the papers.

My dad's surviving phone lit up. On the screen was an unsent draft of a text message.

[Hey, Squirt. Prof. Davis is keeping your spot on the Seabeck Desert Historic Mural Restoration Project. If you wanna take that chance, I suggest you go with all your might. Don't ever let other people decide your path for you.]

I turned the words over in my mind again and again. Finally, I called my mentor.

"Professor? This is Darren. Do I still have the spot?"

"Um, yes," came the hesitant reply. "But your condition right now..."

"It's not gonna be lifelong, sir. I'll be able to make it there in person for the trip to Seabeck."

After hanging up the phone, the nurse held out an information form. "Is this still your emergency contact number? It belongs to someone named Clara Ellis."

I crossed it out and wrote down a new number. "No. It should be my mentor, Matt Davis."

The nurse looked surprised. "Huh. I thought that woman was your girlfriend or something."

"She almost was," I replied. "But she won't be anymore."