I was panicking, at that point. I knew the only way I could make her stay was to tell her, so I finally grew a pair and said it.
I told Katie that I love her, Mum. I’ll admit, for a minute she was just silent, and I thought her feelings might have changed. But they didn’t. She loves me, Mum, and I love her.
I’ve never felt so happy, I’ll tell you. Not since you were alive. I wish you could meet her, Mum. You’d have a lot in common with her, I know it.
I just hope things don’t go wrong.
I put my head in my hands, wiping my tears away. These are Dylan’s feelings, this is the way into his mind that I’ve wanted practically since the day I met him. My chest aches at his beautifully penned words. It hurts to know I’ll never talk to him about this, to tell him how beautiful the letters in this journal are.
With an aching soul, I turn the page.
I widen my eyes at the words.
19 December 2013
Katie—
This is odd for me, to be writing to someone other than my mother. I don’t know, maybe because the big party’s tomorrow, or because this may be one of the last nights we spend together.
It’s two a.m., and you’re asleep. You look so calm and peaceful, so beautiful.
The truth is, I know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow. I know we’re not getting out of this unscathed, but you’ll get through it. You’ll go back to London, you’ll be okay. Maybe I won’t, but it’s not about me anymore.
I know if you ever found this out, you’d hate me. You’d want it to be both of us or neither of us, and trust me, I want it to be, too. But I promised I’d keep you safe, and by letting you go, that’s what I’m doing.
You need to know that you’ve made me so happy, so unbelievably happy. You looked at me, someone who thought poorly of the entire idea of love, and you changed me so greatly I can barely comprehend it myself. I’ve never laughed as much as I’ve laughed with you, Katie.
I love you, Katie, I love you so much. Always remember that, because it will always be true.
Forever yours,
—Dylan
I throw the book into the front seat, putting my head in my hands. I can’t believe this, I refuse to believe this.
Dylan knew, he knew all along we’d be torn apart. And he never told me.
“Fuck!” I yell, hitting my steering wheel in frustration. “You’re such an idiot, Dylan!”I shake my head, shutting my eyes to stop the tears from rolling onto my cheeks. This is all too much for me.
I can’t bear to think Dylan is truly dead. The thought makes my stomach churn and I lean my head back against the headrest of my seat and sigh.
“Dylan, you can’t be dead,” I say out loud. “You can’t be dead, you just can’t.”Cars whiz to and fro on the highway next to me.
It’s been five months. If Dylan was alive, wouldn’t he have contacted me?
“Give me some sort of sign, at least,” I whisper. “Just give me a sign that you're alive or dead.”Suddenly, my phone buzzes, making me jump. I pick it up quickly, taking a breath.
“Hello?”
“Katie, something fell out of the journal.”
I sit up in my seat at my Courtney’s words. “What?”
“It’s a folded piece of paper or something, it’s got words all over it. Wait, it’s more like three pieces of paper. No, there’s more—God, is it an entire novel? Jesus Christ!”“I’m on my way,” I say, shifting my car into drive. “Hold on, okay?”
“Sure.”
I hang up and pull out onto the highway, my heart beating fast.
Chapter Seventy Four
I race home, my thoughts running wild. Something fell out of the journal? What?
London traffic doesn’t cease as I rush home, honking about fifty times. It’s past ten by now, and all slight comfort I felt earlier from going to the art gallery has vanished. It’s hard to believe Courtney and I saw Oliver at the art gallery only a few hours ago—time seemed to crawl by slowly as I read the journal.
I take the steps two at a time up the apartment building, bursting into the living room where my mother and Courtney are. They look at me like I’m a madwoman, which, I probably am, but I’m too pumped with adrenaline to care.
“Something, something out of the journal—” I begin to speak, trying to catch my breath through the combination of exertion and the tiny sliver of hope that this thing Courtney found is the sign I was previously wishing for.
Courtney nods, standing and handing me a stack of paper maybe half an inch thick. It looks wrinkled and damaged, and it’s folded multiple times, but I take it from her anyway. I hear my heart pounding loudly in my ears as I try to steady my breathing.
I hold the journal in one hand and the papers in the other, whirling around and going into my room, shutting the door behind me.
I sit on my bed, pushing hair out of my face and looking at the folded paper.
“Please let this be the sign,” I breathe as I slowly unfold the wrinkled papers.
My eyes trail over the inked words and my heart drops to my feet.
I can see that the words were once written clearly, but they’re smudged beyond belief. I can barely make out my name at the top, Dylan’s neat handwriting blurred. It looks like it was once wet, and now it’s dried, but it’s completely illegible.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, flipping over the page and scanning the back to find it only gets worse, the same with the page after it and the page after that. “No!”I stumble off my bed, walking back into the living room. The two look over at me, confusion on their faces. My skin is hot with anxiety and my chest is tight, a lump forming in my throat.
“It’s damaged,” I rush out to my mother and Courtney. “What—what happened—”
My mother walks over to me, taking the paper from me. “Must have been water damage,” she says, furrowing her brow and shaking her head.
“But Courtney said it fell out of the journal, and the journal is fine—”
“It didn’t fall out of the journal, it came from the package. I thought it fell from the journal, but it must have been hidden at the bottom,” Courtney says.
“No!” I shout. “That can’t be!”
“Katie,” my mother says, shocked at the intensity at my voice, taking the journal from my other hand. “The journal looks a bit water damaged, too. Look at the cover.”I examine the cover again and see it does look dampened. I had been too caught up in reading it that I hadn’t noticed the crumpling of the already battered pages.
“How?” I ask.
“You know how postal service is now, Katie,” my mother says sympathetically. “And if whoever sent it mailed it from Edinburgh, it travelled a long way...”“Anything could have happened,” Courtney agrees.
“No!” I shout again, my vision blurring with tears. “This—this could have been the sign!”
“Sign?”
“The—the sign—”
I lose all feeling in my body as I lean against the table in the hall. I break down, my protective walls that I’ve managed to scrape together tumbling down. The last shred of hope I had evaporates in the air as my mother rushes toward me to support me as I crumble down. Dizziness smears before my vision and the only sound I hear is my blood rushing and the loud thumping of my heart.
These past months, I can tell the people around me have been waiting for me to crack. The way Courtney would watch me warily, or my mother would look at me sympathetically. Even the way Crane spoke to me on the phone told me he, too, thought I could break any moment, like a house of cards.
And now, I’ve finally cracked.
“Come sit on the couch, Katie,” Courtney says worriedly as she and my mother move me to the sofa, sitting me down as I put my head in my hands, the tears never stopping. My body trembles and I feel like dying.
“God, it hurts,” I sob into my mother’s chest. “I miss him so much it hurts!”
I feel their arms around me as I continue to cry.
My mother runs her fingers through my hair, but it doesn't calm me. My breathing is fast and I almost feel like I'm going to pass out.
"I miss him so much," I cry, my cheeks completely soaked in tears. "He promised he'd see me again, he promised me!"
"Oh, Katie."
I sniffle, trying to calm myself.
“I had this...this hope that maybe he’d be somewhere, waiting for me or some shit like that, but I was wrong,” I sputter. “A tiny part of me believed that any day he could maybe come back, but...but he’s not. He’s gone, it’s over.”“You don’t know that, Katie—” My mother starts.
“I do know it!” I say, sitting up straighter, blinking away tears so I can see clearly. “That paper...that paper was explaining why he didn’t tell me he knew what would happen to him, I know it. It was...it was a goodbye—a goodbye he didn’t put in the journal but wrote it seperately.”I feel so much pain consuming my body as I try to wipe the never ending stream of tears from my cheeks.
“Katie...” Courtney wipes one of my tears but I brush her away.
“He’s gone,” I repeat, my voice louder. “He’s dead, he’s dead and gone and I’ll never see him again. He’s probably still dead in that alley—”“Katie,” my mother tries to soothe me but it’s impossible. No one in heaven or on Earth could possibly console me at this moment other than Dylan himself. And I know that's definitely not going to happen.
I gasp for air but my lungs are weakened by the pain of my loss, my fear of being alone hitting me like a smashing tsunami. Now that Dylan is gone, I have no one. Of course I have my family, but I have no one in my life like Dylan, no one so lovely and sarcastic and simply beautiful like him.
“It’s over,” I repeat, putting my head in my hands. “He’s gone—”
“Katie, stop it!”
I fall silent at Courtney’s voice, looking up quickly, astonished at her forcefulness.
She stands, facing me, her own eyes watery.
“You have been so lucky to fall in love with someone as lovely and caring as Dylan. I never met him, but from how you talk about him, he really loved you and you really loved him. Except, what baffles me about this whole thing is that you’ve barely looked for him, Katie. You’ve closed yourself off and become this moping, sad person these past months when you know Dylan would be slaving away day and night to find you if your positions were reversed.”I part my lips to speak, but Courtney holds up a hand.
“Find him, ask around, and don’t give up until you’re either back in his arms or standing at a gravestone. You can’t give up on him, Katie, when you know he’d never give up on you.”She’s right. I’ve been in this state of shock these past five months, I guess I didn’t want to face the truth—good or bad. And I know Dylan would search for me relentlessly if it was me that was shot. Why is it not a two way street?
I’ve been such a fool.
“Love is abstract,” my mother says quietly. “But at its best, it is truly beautiful.”
I look at my mother in shock, remembering how Dylan said almost the same thing months ago, the day James and I broke up.
“I’ve never been in love,” I say.
“You’re lucky.”
I lock eyes with him. “You’ve been in love?”
Dylan takes a breath before turning his head to look out the window. He nods slightly.
“What happened?” I dare to ask.
“Nothing,” he says.
“Come on, it had to be something,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s just it, though,” he says, almost sadly. “Nothing happened.” His eyes look so completely pained that my own heart seems to crack at the sight of them.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone new to love,” I say to him.
Dylan laughs dryly. “Love is abstract,” he says. “It brings nothing but trouble.”
I swallow, the memory fading from my mind.
Courtney stares at me, still standing above me, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You’re right,” I finally say, meeting her eyes. “I can’t give up on him.”
“Hi, you’ve reached Dylan Wilson, leave a message.”
I hang up and sigh, chewing on my lip.
I have dedicated myself these past days to finding Dylan, wherever he may be, dead or alive. So far, I haven’t found out much. But I have more hope that I did before, so that must mean something.
Sometimes, when I feel particularly upset, I call his voicemail just to hear his voice. Pathetic, I know.
Seconds later, my phone buzzes and I jump, sliding it open.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Katie, it’s Abigail.”
“Abigail, yes, hi!” I sit up. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, and you?”
“I’ve been better,” I answer truthfully, putting my sunglasses on my face as I walk from underneath the canopy of trees in Central Park, the sun shining directly on me. It’s the first of June, and summer is upon the Big Apple. Oliver and Sarah’s wedding is days away, and I’ve met with Sarah for coffee twice already, but I haven’t seen Oliver. I need to speak to him, to ask him about Dylan, but I haven’t had the chance.
“I’ve heard,” Abigail says. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s...that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” I stop walking, stepping under a large tree.
“Katie, I’d love to tell you everything, but there’s a call on line three for Mr. Morris—”
“Abigail, I just need—”
“I’m so sorry, let me call you back, okay?”
I sigh and hang up, remembering Abigail took Caitlin’s old job after she was fired for conspiring against Crane. Crane’s second receptionist that used to switch off with Abigail now works full time.
I hear footsteps and turn to see Sarah, the bride-to-be, walking toward me.
“Hi!” She squeals, a grin crossing her face.
“Hey,” I greet her, smiling back. “How are things?”
“Busy as hell,” she sighs. “I’m stressed, to be honest.”
Although it would have been lovely, I am not going to be a bridesmaid in their wedding. I explained to Sarah that I was sorry, but I wasn’t up for it, and she understood. She said she was just happy I was able to make it to the wedding.
“Well, let’s see how the tents are doing.” Sarah’s blonde hair is up in a messy bun, sunglasses on her face alone with a wide smile.
I nod and we begin to walk down the path to the area the wedding will be held. Thinking of marriage makes me think of how I had wished Dylan and I would be able to get married one day, but even thinking about that makes my breathing irregular. Everything leads back to Dylan, one way or another.
Oliver and Sarah have rented two large tents for their wedding; one for the ceremony and one for the reception. So far, one of them is up, the one that the reception is being held in, I believe. Sarah sighs, grinning widely.
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