When Ashes Fall

by Marni Mann

  Nine minutes had passed since I sent Alix away.

  And, now, another moment was happening.

  One that caused me to break every promise I’d made to her.

  Except for one.

  Before I was able to do anything—take a breath, open my mouth, or turn my head to look in the direction of where Alix was—my entire life changed.

  Alix’s life changed.

  Boston changed.

  Forever.

  Fifty-One

  Alix

  One Year Ago

  When it was my turn, I walked up to the register, setting the two bottles of water and the bag of gummy worms on the counter.

  “Did you find everything you needed?” the salesclerk asked. He was an older gentleman with an accent that told me he was from the area.

  “I did,” I said. “Thank you.”

  While he rang up my items, I flicked the edge of the money against the pad of my thumb, anxious to get back outside.

  He looked at me over his glasses. “Have you been here all day?”

  I shook my head. “We just got here.”

  “Before my shift, I got to see the winner cross the finish line. Took him just over two hours. Unbelievable to watch.”

  “Such talent. I bet it was beautiful to see.”

  I gave him the ten when the amount was totaled on the screen.

  “Enjoy yourself out there,” he said, and then he moved on to the next customer.

  I tucked the waters under one arm and used both hands to open the bag of candy, popping a few worms into my mouth as I stepped out of the store.

  When I’d woken up this morning, I’d had a feeling that Dylan and I would end up at the marathon today. We hadn’t discussed it, but once I’d heard his plans didn’t extend beyond lunch, I had known we’d head here after.

  Despite the crowds and chaos, it was impossible to stay away.

  There was too much camaraderie.

  Energy.

  The optimism was contagious.

  Everyone—from children to the elderly—wore smiles.

  Every year, the city would come together and welcome and encourage and cheer on these runners, and it was a sight one could never grow tired of.

  Including us.

  As I got closer to where Dylan was standing, I saw the flags waving in the wind. The giant digital clock that kept the time for the race was ticking away. Glitter was all over the ground from the poster boards people were holding in the air.

  I took another mouthful of worms, and just as I was walking past the cross street, a noise blasted through my ears.

  It was a sound I’d never heard before.

  A craaack that shook my entire body.

  It reminded me of thunder.

  As though the sky had opened up and was whipping the air directly in front of me.

  The waters dropped from my arm.

  The bag of candy fell from my hand.

  I swallowed what was in my mouth even though it had been barely chewed, and my hands went over my ears, cupping them to stop my eardrums from exploding.

  I was on the ground.

  My body in a tight ball.

  My forearms and elbows shielding my face.

  There was smoke.

  Dust.

  Tiny pieces of something sharp pierced into my knees and shins.

  I let go of my ears to hold the ground, and there was an eerie silence.

  Everything was still.

  For one second, two seconds.

  And then I heard the wails.

  It was the sound a parent would make if they found out their child had passed away.

  A scream that had come straight from the gut.

  And it was coming out of me.

  My nails dug into the pavement. My sneakers scraped across the tar as I tried to push myself forward.

  There was only one thought in my head.

  Dylan.

  I had to get to him.

  I had to see if he was okay.

  I had to find out what the fuck was happening.

  What had caused the thunder, the screams, the blood.

  Because it was everywhere.

  Darkening the skin on my hands as I dragged myself to the spot where we had been standing. Spreading across my knees as they skimmed the ground. Dripping down my forearms each time I fell and pulled myself back up.

  I crawled.

  Over people.

  Over pools of blood.

  My chin hit the asphalt as my hands gave out, and I tasted sand.

  Rocks crunched between my teeth.

  Blood spurted against the roof of my mouth when I bit my tongue.

  Something grabbed ahold of my leg, and I kicked it until it let go, getting myself back on my knees so that I could keep moving.

  I crept past clothes.

  A finger.

  Severed limbs I had to launch my body over.

  But I kept going.

  Kept screaming.

  Kept shouting, “Dylan!”

  I didn’t know if he could hear me.

  The smoke was making it hard to see.

  Hard to breathe.

  Hard to think about what I was supposed to do.

  Everyone I saw needed my help.

  But I couldn’t stop for them.

  I needed to find Dylan.

  So, I dragged my body toward the flags.

  Most of them were ripped.

  Many of them were missing.

  But I saw the broken poles and the tattered fabric, and I crawled toward them.

  “Dylan!”

  My fingers stuck together from all the blood.

  Something new was stabbing the center of my palm.

  Something hard fell onto my back.

  It didn’t slow me down.

  Because, through the tiny cracks I was weaving between, I saw Dylan’s black jacket. The white logo on the breast pocket. Dangling from the sleeves were two familiar hands that I had just been holding a few minutes ago.

  He was on the ground.

  “Dylan!”

  I didn’t know if my feet could hold me, so I stayed on my knees. I kicked, and I pushed.

  And I crawled.

  And I only let myself stop when I reached him.

  My hands slid underneath his shoulders, and I pulled him onto my lap.

  My fingers then pressed into his neck to find his pulse.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I could only scream.

  And yell, “Dylan,” over and over.

  When I felt nothing, my arms wrapped around him while his back pressed against my chest.

  I rocked.

  And I cried.

  And I shifted forward and back, repeating the pattern as though the movement could shock his heart into rhythm.

  Spit flew from my lips.

  Tears ran from my cheeks.

  Blood dripped onto his face as my mouth rested on his forehead.

  “Dylan.”

  I held him so tightly.

  I didn’t want him to be cold.

  I didn’t want him to hurt.

  I just wanted him to know I was here.

  “Dylan …”

  Just as I got his name out again, I felt something.

  It was in my chest.

  Like a bear clawing out of his den after months of hibernating.

  It caused my neck to lean back.

  My mouth to open.

  My eyes to look at the sun.

  A scream came out first.

  It filled my ears.

  Not as loud as the thunder.

  But close.

  And then I saw something drifting from the sky.

  It hit my forehead.

  My cheeks.

  It dusted my eyelashes.

  And I knew what it meant.

  When ashes fall …

  That was the end.

  Fifty-Two

  Alix

  Eleven Months Ago

  “We need to talk about your eating,�
� Rose said from the other side of the table. “I’m really starting to get worried.”

  I glanced down at the spot in front of me.

  There was a paper placemat and an empty wine glass.

  In front of Rose was a basket, which had held a burger and fries that she’d devoured after the first round of drinks.

  I took my hand off my lap and reached for the glass, twirling the stem between two of my bandaged fingers.

  There were several more bandages on my palms and forearms.

  My knees.

  Shins.

  I was on my second round of antibiotics.

  I’d probably need a third.

  “I eat,” I told her. “Stop worrying.”

  “What? Celery?”

  While she’d been inhaling her dinner, a small sliver of a fry had fallen out of the basket.

  It was now on the table.

  The sight of it made my stomach churn.

  My mouth watered.

  I had to look away before I threw up.

  In the last month, I hadn’t been keeping much down.

  I knew that needed to change.

  My weight was even starting to scare me.

  Before I had a chance to reply, the waitress came to our table and dropped the leather check holder in front of me that held the receipt and my credit card. “I saw your name on the card,” she said.

  I looked up at her. “Okay.”

  Her hand shot through the air, and I watched every inch her fingers moved until they landed on my shoulder.

  I stiffened.

  She widened her grip, her thumb rubbing back and forth. “I saw your picture online. What that bomber did …” Her voice trailed off as tears filled her eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry and to thank you for the service you’ve given to this city.”

  She left the table, not waiting for a response.

  And I sat there, staring at Rose, wishing there were another full glass of wine in front of me.

  “I can’t escape,” I whispered.

  A picture of me had been aired on every news outlet across the country. It wasn’t a close-up. It was a wide shot that showed the entire area around the finish line. The metal barricade had blown down, and I had crawled over it, holding Dylan in the road.

  I was rocking him.

  My lips were pressed to his forehead.

  His hand was resting over my arm.

  In the description, my name and occupation had been mentioned.

  And, since then, my social media accounts had been gaining so many new followers every day. I was getting recognized on the streets. Flowers were being sent to the fire station, which the chief dropped off at my townhouse once a week.

  Boston was supporting me.

  I just didn’t want the attention.

  “It will eventually quiet down,” Rose said. “It’s just still so fresh right now.”

  As fresh as the wounds on my hands.

  And the ones inside my mind that hadn’t even begun to heal.

  Because all I did day after day was replay it in my head.

  Like I was doing now.

  I had to get out of here.

  “I’m going to go,” I said, standing from my chair, slipping my purse over my shoulder.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. I promise.” I moved over to her, hugging her as tightly as I could, knowing it wasn’t even half as hard as she was squeezing me. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

  “You’d better.” She sighed. “Can I see you in a few days?”

  I released her and nodded.

  I’d probably cancel.

  But, for now, I didn’t need Rose nagging me, and the nod would keep her off my back for at least a day or two.

  “Love you,” I said over my shoulder as I started walking down the sidewalk.

  “Love you more.”

  I took a few more steps and turned down the cross street.

  Fortunately, the restaurant Rose had chosen wasn’t far from my townhouse. She had done that on purpose. She didn’t want me going more than a couple of blocks.

  As though the extra walking would hurt me more.

  Ironically, it was one of the few things that didn’t hurt.

  When I got onto my block, my speed increased, and I hurried up the steps.

  I counted each one.

  I wasn’t sure why; it just made me feel better.

  I unlocked the door and went inside.

  Instead of putting my keys in my purse, I stuck them in a bowl on a table in the entryway.

  It was decorative, not for storage.

  I didn’t give a fuck.

  Normally, I carried my bag upstairs and left it in the closet.

  But it felt so heavy.

  So, I set it on the closest barstool in the kitchen.

  Right in front of it, on the counter, was a note from Dylan.

  I had eighty-four notes from him.

  That was how many I’d saved.

  As I read his words, I grabbed the bottle of red and poured myself a glass that I carried to the stairs. I was so tired; I barely had the energy to climb them.

  Once I was inside my closet, I dumped my earrings and watch in a drawer, my clothes went in the hamper, and my shoes stayed wherever they’d landed on the floor.

  Too exhausted to brush my teeth or wash off the tiny bit of mascara I’d actually put on, I brought the wine over to the bed, and I slid in. As soon as I found a comfortable spot, I pressed a button on the tablet that flipped off the lights and another that turned on the TV.

  HGTV.

  That was the only channel I could tolerate.

  One I knew that would never mention the bombing.

  I took a few sips of wine and sank into the mattress, my muscles slowly starting to relax.

  The warmth from the alcohol moved toward the center of my chest. I set the glass on the nightstand and pushed myself down until my head was nestled into the fluffy pillow.

  My eyes closed.

  I rolled onto my stomach.

  Just as I was hugging a pillow against my side, I heard the door open.

  My eyes burst open.

  I stopped breathing.

  My body began to shake.

  I couldn’t take another wound.

  I couldn’t handle more trauma.

  This was the end.

  And I was already at it.

  Whoever had just entered my bedroom, I hoped they killed me before they inflicted any pain.

  I would rather die than feel worse than I did right now.

  Just as I went to turn around to meet the face of the intruder, I heard, “It’s me.”

  Dylan.

  Oh God.

  I didn’t know whether to cry or celebrate.

  Or put my hands on the sides of my head and shout, “How?”

  I didn’t do any of those things.

  I stayed as calm as I could and said, “What are you doing here?”

  So much of me wanted to turn around and look at his handsome face.

  But I couldn’t.

  The agony was too intense.

  For now, his voice was enough.

  “I miss you.”

  My hand slapped over my mouth as a sob exploded from my lips.

  The ache in my chest was unbearable.

  I couldn’t take another second of it.

  “Don’t,” I cried. “Dylan, please don’t.”

  I immediately regretted saying that to him.

  I wanted him to miss me.

  I just couldn’t hear it.

  “You went out tonight?”

  The guilt.

  It was coming up from my stomach and working its way into my mouth.

  It had the flavor of bile.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “That’s what I want,” I heard him say. “Because tonight was a moment. Just like yesterday was and the day before that. Every milestone, every victory, I want you celebrating each one, Al
ix.”

  Rose would like this suggestion.

  She was down for celebrating anything, especially if it meant progress. It would give her something to concentrate on, so she would stop worrying about me every second.

  “Can you do that for me?”

  “I can try,” I answered, shaking my head to make sure I was hearing this all correctly.

  “Promise me, Alix.”

  I squeezed the pillow with both hands. “I promise.”

  “Then, I’m going to say good night.”

  “No!” Something was tightening in the back of my throat, and I could barely swallow. “Don’t go.”

  I felt a heat move behind me.

  I felt more slip across my stomach.

  He put his arm around me and a calmness came into my body.

  “Good night,” I whispered.

  Before I fell asleep, I replayed it.

  Every second.

  Every detail.

  And I stored it all.

  Because, even though tomorrow was a new day, it was going to look exactly like today.

  But that might be okay, especially if that meant Dylan would come home.

  Fifty-Three

  Smith

  Present Day

  Three and a half miles.

  That was how far Rose and I were going in hopes that we would find Alix.

  I stared at the screen of my phone, watching the route the driver took, counting down the seconds until we arrived.

  I just needed to know she was safe.

  Or I needed to get the police involved.

  But this unknown was making everything inside me fucking ache.

  During the drive, Rose explained what I had seen back at Alix’s.

  She broke down each layer.

  I wished they were things Alix had told me.

  That she had let me in deeper, allowing me to see what triggered her. Why she disappeared every time there was a storm. How the intensity of her PTSD swallowed her every day.

  I understood why she hadn’t told me.

  Trauma wasn’t easy to discuss.

  I knew that firsthand.

  But mine had happened years ago, whereas Alix’s was still so fresh.

  Time would eventually tame her demons. They would still be there. They would be there for the rest of her life. But the fangs of those demons would dull, and so would its claws.