7 Minutes in Heaven

by Tracey Ward

  I can’t breathe. I can hardly see. Tears swim in my eyes, blurring the light. I raise my left hand shakily.

  Kyle takes it in his, holding it out for both of us to see.

  “Grace Murray,” his voice vibrates against my back and in my ear. He opens his other palm slowly.

  There’s a diamond ring inside.

  “Will you marry me?”

  I’m stunned. I’m speechless. I’m staring at the blurry sight of an engagement ring in my boyfriend’s hand, and I’m panicking. I’m not breathing. My heart is screaming in my chest and I’m honestly concerned that I might pee a little; that’s how messed up my system is in this moment.

  Pee, cry, drown. In that order.

  I stand shuddering in Kyle’s arms, unable to answer. Unable to think.

  He takes my silence as a positive, and I don’t know that he’s wrong. I don’t know what I want or what I’m doing. I watch numbly as he slides the ring on my finger. It gets a little stuck at the end. He has to push it hard to get it to go on, but then there it is. It just happened.

  I’m engaged to Kyle Rixton.

  “Is it too tight?”

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  I shake my head, feeling tears pour down my cheeks. “I can’t marry you, Kyle.”

  He hesitates. I feel his body go stiff with confusion before he straightens up to his full height. His hands let go of mine. “Are you serious?”

  I nod, unable to look at him. I’ll die if I do. I can’t hurt him but I have to. I can’t do this. I can’t.

  I’m not ready yet.

  “Grace, what are you talking about? This is what we planned.”

  I lick my lips nervously. “We never planned this.”

  “I thought we were both on the same page.”

  “What page is it?” I ask desperately, feeling suddenly frantic. “I don’t even know what book this is. This is your life. Not mine. How can I be on the same page?”

  “I love you. I want to marry you. That’s the page.”

  My heart skips a beat. Two. It flutters and falters painfully. I put my hands to my eyes, shutting him out. Just for a minute. “I want you to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop talking. Stop coming at me with this.”

  “How am I coming at you? Put your hands down. Look at me.”

  I lower them slowly but I don’t turn. I don’t look at him. “I’m not ready to get married, Kyle,” I tell him sadly.

  “Why not?”

  “We’re too young.”

  “I’m not saying let’s get married tomorrow.”

  “I know, but . . .” I lick my lips again, tasting salt. “I just think that we . . . I can’t . . .”

  His hands come down warm and reassuring on my shoulders. “Slow down,” he says consolingly. “I’m listening.”

  The way he’s talking to me, it reminds me of Ashley. That’s what we say to her when she gets overwhelmed and can’t find her words.

  Go slow. I’m listening to you.

  He’s heard me say it to her so many times. He’s seen her meltdowns. He’s held her hand as she panicked over nothing that feels like everything to her. He’s a good guy. A great guy. Probably the best I’ll ever meet. And he loves me. I’m lucky enough to be loved by him and I love him so hard it doesn’t make sense sometimes. I feel it too much. It’s too strong to bear. It’s so overpowering, I can’t tell where my love for him ends and I begin. I don’t know what I want beyond him. It’s a horrible feeling. It’s the backside of a brilliant moon.

  “I’m going to the University of Nevada,” I tell him numbly, unable to connect with my own words. My own future. “I’m not going to Villanova with you.”

  Kyle stands still as stone behind me. He stays that way for a long time. So long I lose track. Suddenly, his hands tighten on my shoulders. He’s squeezing so hard it actually hurts. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either.”

  “I love you,” he repeats roughly.

  I smile tearfully. “I love you too.”

  “I want you with me.”

  “I want to be with you.”

  He drops his head to rest it against the back of mine. “We’re saying the same things. How is this not the same page?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “I know. It’s not helpful but it’s true. I need to figure it out. I have to figure me out before I can be with you forever.” I choke on a sob, my body convulsing. “You’re too much. You’re too big. You’ll take me over if I let you.”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  “You don’t have to. That’s what makes you so scary.”

  He shakes me. It’s not hard, but it’s intense. He’s jostling me like he’s trying to dislodge the resistance in me that he can’t understand. It doesn’t work. If there was a way to feel differently, I would. I want to. But I also don’t want to be a ghost. I can’t be his shadows. I have to figure out me and my life before I can merge it with his. Otherwise, what am I giving him? He’d be giving me everything, all of him, and I’d give him nothing. I’m all doubt. I’m nothing solid. I’m a wisp of wind rolling down the mountain, off the cliff’s edge, and tumbling over the thin ice of the lake below. He can’t hold me. He can’t catch me.

  I can’t even hold onto myself. That’s how paper thin I am.

  I turn my head to look at Kyle’s hand on my shoulder. His knuckles are white as snow, but the winter is over. Spring is coming and new life is budding. It’s starting to spread. Our snow globe is melting around us, exposing us to the elements, and we’re not ready for it. And still, it comes. The world doesn’t wait for you to be ready. Time keeps turning even when you beg it to stop.

  This is the most perilous second of my life. I waver here, holding my breath like it can hold me down. I think about telling him I’ll go with him. I’ll be with him forever. I think about casting aside every ounce of myself to bathe in the waterfall of his love, his life, but I’ll drown if I do. I’ll be nothing and no one, and will he still want me when that happens?

  I know he won’t. And I won’t like who I’ve become.

  I have to say no. I have to stay strong.

  “I, um . . .” He clears his throat roughly. “I think we should go. I think it’s time to go.”

  I nod loosely. “I think you’re right.”

  “I’ll go shut the cabin.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “No,” he says forcefully. His hands keep me facing forward. He sniffs sharply, and I realize he’s crying. He doesn’t want me to see. “I’ve got it. I think—I need a minute alone.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  “Yeah. I . . . yeah.”

  He holds me for a second longer. His lips brush the top of my head, his breath warm on my scalp. It sends a shiver down my spine that I can’t suppress. He feels it. He knows that I’m shaking, nearly crying. That’s where we both are. Because we’re over.

  “I love you, Grace,” he breathes into my hair.

  I close my eyes, pinching my lips together against the agony. “I love you, Kyle,” I whisper brokenly.

  He releases me suddenly. It throws me off balance. I didn’t realize how heavily I was leaning into him, but when he’s gone, I stumble. I fall back a step, correct with two forward, and then I’m standing at the edge. I’m staring down at the lake with its cracked, broken surface that shifts over the icy waters, and I know how it feels. Fractured. Broken.

  It’s the single worst moment of my life.

  And it’s about to get worse.

  A twig snaps behind me. I think it’s Kyle. He’s coming back. He can’t be done with the cabin yet, but he must have something more to say. Or maybe he wants the ring back.

  I tug at it as I turn, trying to pull it free. It’s stuck. It won’t come off. “I’m sorry, Kyle, I can’t—”

  I’m pushed from behind. Big hands, a ha
rd shove, the rich smell of oranges, and I’m falling. I’m screaming.

  The impact with the ice is the worst of it. It feels like hitting pavement. I worry that my back is broken, but then cold water envelopes me and I can’t feel anything. I can’t think. The light, the sun, the warmth of the world all disappears under the cloying silence of water. Icy cold that fills my ears, my nose, my eyes, my throat as I scream. I should have kept my mouth shut. I take in too much water. It closes my throat and my lungs. They recoil against it, shrinking until I’m gagging. I’m choking, drowning almost instantly.

  My feet kick, my hands reaching blindly for the surface, but the ice is shifting. I can’t grab onto it. One second there’s an opening above me and the next it’s gone. An edge cuts across the palm of my hand, slicing it open and spilling my blood into the water; black as tar.

  “Grace!”

  Grace!

  I hear him in my head and in my ears. I hear his voice crying out for me as I kick and scream under the glassy ceiling of ice above me. I can’t punch through. I can’t hold my breath. There’s water in my lungs and my body is trying to cough it up, but all it gets is more water. More cold.

  More death.

  On his third and final attempt, Kyle Rixton has finally managed to murder me.

  minute three

  chapter twenty-one

  “Are you okay?” Kyle asks hurriedly.

  I blink at him in surprise, feeling disoriented. We’re in the dark cave of the gym, the world outside glaring with white and gray snow piles. “Kyle?”

  He smiles. “I guess everyone already knows who I am, huh?”

  “It’s a small school.”

  “It’s a small town.”

  “Small world,” I mumble, confused. What are we even talking about?

  “That’s what the song says,” he agrees easily.

  I frown at a basketball slowly rolling away from us. “Did you throw that ball at me?”

  “Seriously, I’m sorry about that. I was running laps and the ball was there in the middle of the floor. I was worried someone would trip on it so I kicked it toward the door to get it out of the way but I guess I gave it a little too much.”

  “Just a little bit.”

  He grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that,” I tell him sharply. I’m not sure why I’m so irritated, but the sight of this stranger has my blood boiling. I’m so angry with him and I have no idea why. “It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

  “Not that you know of,” he replies playfully.

  “I wouldn’t doubt how much knowledge I have on you. It’s pretty extensive.”

  “Really?” He crosses his arms over his chest, settling back on his heels. “What have you got?”

  I shrug carelessly, though it feels more like a shiver. Why am I so cold? “I don’t know. Your name is Kyle Rixton. You’re from Florida. You play basketball, though I hope you’re better when you handle the ball with your hands than you are with your feet.”

  He laughs. “I am.”

  “You’d have to be. You couldn’t get worse.”

  “Probably not. What else do you know?”

  “Nothing,” I sigh, not enjoying this game. My hand is starting to ache something awful. I look at it but there’s no mark. No bruises or cuts. It just really, really hurts, like it’s burning. “That’s it.”

  “That’s it? That’s what you call ‘pretty extensive’?”

  “It’s more than you’ve got on me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I lower my hand impatiently. “Alright, fine. What do you know?”

  “Your name is Sarah Underguard. You have three brothers, one cat, and two dogs. Both huskies.”

  “None of that is right.”

  “You’re a Libra, you can’t swim, and you had French toast for breakfast, when what you really wanted was waffles.” He smiles. It’s as arrogant as his stance. “How’d I do?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Seriously?”

  “All wrong. Everything.”

  “I didn’t get one thing right? That dog thing felt real. You look like a husky girl.”

  “Wow. Was that supposed to sound so offensive?”

  “What was it? Sarah? Underguard? French toast?”

  “Calling me husky. That’s what’s offensive.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to keep talking about this.”

  “Oh, come on! You have to.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. I don’t know you.”

  “Okay, yeah,” Kyle laughs, “that’s fair. But will you tell me one thing? As a favor? I’ll owe you.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Nothing,” I snap. “I want nothing from you, dude. Take the hint.”

  “You don’t look like the type.”

  “The type for what?” I take a step back from him, frowning. “Can I be real with you? You seem like you’re kind of high.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Whatever. You’re welcome.”

  He grins like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like this isn’t a strange and hostile conversation we’re having. “What’s your name?”

  “Sarah Underguard, remember?” I ask dryly. “You nailed it.”

  He laughs. “Nah, for real. What’s your name?”

  “Grace Murray.”

  Kyle offers me his hand. “I’m sorry I almost killed you, Grace Murray.”

  I shake his hand, eager to let it go and be done with him. “So am I, Kyle Rixton.”

  chapter twenty-two

  The next morning, I wake up on time. My hair is washed and dried, straightened flat into a shiny, amber waterfall down my back. My keys are where I left them. It’s a good start to a day that feels oddly ominous. It’s probably spill over from yesterday’s drama. I ended up spending most of the afternoon in the deserted library waiting for Makena to get done with the Model U.N. thing so I could get a ride home from her, but she disappeared. I ended up walking home when the snow was just starting to fall. The roads were deserted. It felt like the world had come to an end by the time I got home. I was a popsicle by that point so I went straight upstairs to take a hot shower. I could not get warm to save my life. Even after using all of the hot water in the house, I was still freezing. I curled up under three blankets on my bed, falling asleep before the sun went down. I slept for, like, thirteen hours, but I woke up feeling better.

  I’m just hoping today turns out better than yesterday.

  Mom zips Ashley’s lunch bag with a hard tug. “Do you need lunch money?”

  “No. Dad gave me a twenty over the weekend. I still have some of it.”

  “Good.” She frowns apologetically as I pour milk over my Cheerios. “Can you go upstairs and get your sister for me?”

  I’ll have soggy cereal when I get back, but whatever.

  “Of course I can,” I sigh heavily.

  Mom casts me an irritated look before leaving the kitchen.

  When I finish Ashley’s countdown, I follow her down the stairs, watching the purple jellyfish dance on the back of her bag.

  “Do you have everything you need?” Mom asks her.

  “I have everything,” she answers evenly.

  “Here’s your lunch.”

  “Is it an Uncrustable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strawberry.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, baby.” Mom opens the door for her, casting me a quick grin. “Have a good day, Grace.”

  “You too. Bye, Ash!”

  Ashley turns in the door to look at me.

  It stops my heart for a beat when she looks me dead in the eyes.

  “Your Cheerios are getting soggy.”

  I chuckle at her seriousness. “How’d you know I was having Cheerios?”

  She doesn’t respond. She only stares, unblinking. Ashley never looks anyone in the eye
. It’s almost physically painful for her to do it, even for a second. I’m speechless as she holds me frozen with her pretty brown eyes.

  I must zone out, because it feels like I blink and they’re gone. Suddenly the door is closed and I’m alone in the foyer.

  “Wow,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Get it together, Grace.”

  In the kitchen, I pour my mushy cereal down the sink. Ashley was right. They’re completely milk-logged. I’m early when I step out onto the porch. The neighborhood is quiet. Not a car on the road. I try not to, but I can’t stop myself from glancing across the street at Kyle’s house. His truck is there. He hasn’t left yet but it’s covered in snow, sitting silently in the driveway. I’m relieved that he’s not there. I’m not eager to talk to that guy again. He’s weird. Or on drugs. Or both.

  My hand is still aching, and I curse when I look down to see that I forgot my gloves. It’s subfreezing out. I’m going to need those.

  I dart back inside to grab them off the table. It only takes a second before I’m outside, locking the front door behind me.

  “Hey, Grace!”

  My heart stops. My body freezes.

  Kyle is across the street. He’s coming around from the front of his truck, ice scraper in hand. The windshield and hood are clear of snow. The tailpipe is happily puffing clouds of steam into the air.

  Kyle smiles at me warmly.

  “What the hell?” I gasp, stunned. I was gone for literally three seconds. I know it. There’s no way he could have come outside, cleared his car, and started it up in that time.

  “Five inches!” he proclaims, gesturing to the mountain of snow piled up along the side of the road.

  I don’t answer. I can’t. I just stare at him and his truck, completely freaking out.

  Kyle laughs at nothing. Maybe he’s laughing at the expression on my face because I know my shock has to show. This is the second time this morning that I’ve felt like time has slipped away from me. What the hell is happening?

  He walks gingerly to the end of his driveway where he doesn’t have to yell. “Don’t tell me that. I was hoping this was the worst of it.”

  I shake my head numbly. “I didn’t say anything.”