Letting Go
A short story by...Patricia Cardoza and John Eddy
I had almost reached her office when the building roared and shuddered under my feet. It was the loudest sound I’d ever heard, seeming to come from everywhere at once. The shock wave blew out the window behind me and a solitary scream echoed from down the hall as the lights flickered and I was suddenly plunged into darkness.
Instinctively, I dropped to my knees. My heart pounded in my ears as thoughts jumbled in my brain. Earthquake? No, I’ve felt those before. An explosion? Oh god, it’s so dark, I can’t see anything. The broken window behind me was so small and the thick fog obscured almost all light from nearby buildings. I stretched out my arms, feeling desperately for the smooth walls. I crawled forward, slowly, my bare knees scraping against the well worn carpet. I swore as I jammed my finger tips against the wall. The building spoke, creaking and yawning, as metal protested, plaster crumbled, and glass rained down. Pressing my palms flat against the wall, I rose, slowly, and continued my awkward journey, nearly falling over as the wall disappeared at her doorway.
“Sara!” I called softly through the darkness, “where are you?” I held my breath, straining for any sound in the room, but all I heard was the incessant pounding of my own heart. “Please, honey, say something.” Hot tears sprang to my eyes as I shuffled forward slowly, my arms outstretched, fingers searching desperately for something, anything. I had to find her. “Shit!” I whispered tensely, as my foot caught on something hard. Reaching down, I made out the corner of a desk. Running my hands slowly over the edge, I felt the smooth warmth of the leather blotter, the hard plastic of the computer monitor, the spongy coiled rubber of the telephone cord. My fingers curled around the handset, and I lifted it to my ear. Silence. The phones were dead. My heart quickened, and the pounding in my ears grew louder.
“Sara!” I was sobbing now, desperate to find her. I bit my bottom lip, tasted the harsh coppery taste of my own blood. I’d heard her scream. Then a crash. Where was she? Why hadn’t I just swallowed my own pride and apologized earlier? We’d have left together and we wouldn’t be in this horrible mess right now. We’d be sitting at Tony’s Bar, having Lemon Drop martinis and laughing as random men tried, unsuccessfully, to pick us up. Instead, we were trapped, stuck on the tenth floor of the San Francisco Merchant’s Bank, hoping to god that whatever had rocked the building, plunging it into darkness, wasn’t the last thing we’d ever know.
I heard movement from somewhere to my right. Slowly, my feet barely leaving the ground, I shuffled towards the sound. As I approached, I heard a soft sob, a gasp of pain, and I crouched down, feeling desperately with my hands. The wiry carpet scraped my skin until suddenly, I felt warm silk. “Sara!” The silk flinched, and moved under my hand.
“Teresa?” Sara started to whimper, her voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. “Oh god, help me, honey. There’s something heavy... on my arm... I can’t move.”
I ran my hands up the soft line of her leg, over her hip. The silky smoothness of her pants gave way to the soft lace of her blouse, and my fingers skimmed over her breast, to her shoulder. I gasped as the sticky warmth of blood oozed between my fingers, and suddenly there was cool metal. Up, over a corner, down the other side, a handle! I ran both my hands around the great mass until I found the bottom corners. I wiped my bloody hand on my skirt before sliding my fingers under the small space afforded by her arm. I groaned, pushing, then pulling with all my might, but the cabinet didn’t move. “It’s a file cabinet, honey. It’s big,” My voice trembled, she was pinned, it was pitch dark in the windowless room, and we were trapped. Shit, why didn’t I swallow my goddamned pride and apologize sooner? “Sara, I don’t have my cell phone. Do you have yours?”
“It’s in my desk drawer.” Her voice was trembling, she was losing blood, I could smell it, thick and metallic. I squeezed her shoulder, it was cold.
“I’m going to get it. Just hang on, okay?” I prayed. Harder than I ever had before. God please, please help us! As I pushed myself to my feet I gasped as her free hand found my ankle.
“Teresa?” She was crying, but her grip on my ankle was strong. “Don’t leave me, please.”
“Sara, baby, I have to get the cell phone. You’re bleeding. It’s bad.” I crouched down again, feeling tentatively until my fingers found the soft curls that framed her face. I cupped her cheeks, her tears cool on my palms. I bent my head until my lips pressed against her clammy forehead. “I’ll be right back. Just keep talking to me, okay?”
“I’ll... try.” Her voice trembled, her breath warm on my neck, her skin icy under my lips.
I rose, my fingers shaking as they reached desperately for her desk. Even though it was only a few feet away, it felt like an eternity before I found it again. Sara’s voice was like an anchor, keeping me sane, focused, if not completely terrified. She was babbling, talking about the trip we were planning to Monterey.
“We’ll go... to the beach... look... for seashells... walk... by the water...”
“I’m at your desk, honey. Just hang on.” My fingers traveled lightly over the cheap pine, grazing over pens and paper clips as I felt for the narrow line of drawers down the left side. Closing my hand around the wooden handle, I pulled the drawer open slowly, hearing the smooth hiss of casters and the subtle shuffle of the contents. I can’t see anything. God, why did I have to leave my phone in the car? I thrust both my hands into the drawer, feeling desperately for the phone. I didn’t even notice that Sara had fallen silent. Where’s the phone? I felt smooth plastic dividers, cool metal pens, a pack of gum, a bottle of something. Finally my fingers closed over something small, cool, almost metallic. Buttons, an antenna, the phone! “Sara, I’ve got it!” I listened. Silence. God. “Sara!” Nothing. “Sara, talk to me!” Silence. I sprang up, the phone clutched tightly in my fist, and hurried as fast as I could towards her.
“Teresa... help... me.” Her whispered plea sent chills down my spine as my toe found the soft flesh of her leg.
“I’m right here, baby. Squeeze my hand.”
As I gripped her free hand, I started to shake. Her fingers were icy, and barely responded to my gentle pressure. I flipped open her phone with my other hand and a dull blue light suddenly blinded me. It was several seconds before my eyes adjusted and I angled the phone to her face. Her eyes were closed, her jaw slack, her cheeks soaked with tears. “Sara, open your eyes. Now!” At my shout, her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes to look at me. I knew. She knew. Only one of us would live through the night. “Oh baby, please,” I sobbed, flinching as a few of my tears plopped onto her cheeks. “Please, please fight.”
“Can’t... hurts... cold.” Every word was a struggle. I could see her fight to even breathe. I flung my body down, stretching out to cover as much of her as I possibly could. I wrapped my arm around her waist, the blood soaked carpet abrading my soft skin. I tucked my head next to hers, kissing her wet cheeks, her clammy forehead, her soft, cool lips.
“Sara... oh god, Sara don’t leave me!” I pressed my cheek to hers. Our tears mixed, though she’d nearly stopped crying, her breathing slowing, becoming increasingly shallow.
“Sorry... love you... always.”
She was gone. I felt her go, felt her body shudder once as she gave up her last breath. I screamed, so loud and so long that I thought my heart might explode. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She’d found me in the deepest, darkest depression when even breathing tore at my soul. She’d found me, with a bottle of sleeping pills, in the corner suite of my college dorm, when she’d come looking for my roommate, Angie. When she’d pushed open the door, interrupting what was to be my final desperate act, everything had changed in an instant. Our eyes had locked, and though we’d never even seen each other before, she knew instantly what I was planning. She’d knocked the pills from my hand, wrapping me in her warm embrace, gently rocking me as I cried. She’d kissed me, my neck, my cheeks, my lips, and I’d shared my pain, feeling her drink it in, siphoning it off until I could breathe, could feel, could once again hope.
“Oh Sara,” I whimpered, “I can’t go on without you!” The cell phone had fallen, forgotten, from my hand, the blue light long gone. I closed my eyes, breathing in the last of her perfume, the last of her shampoo, the final, horrendous scent of her death.
They found me like that, twelve hours later, my head tucked into her neck, my arm covered in her drying blood, my body pressed desperately to hers. They thought I was dead. I might as well have been. When they tried to roll me away, I screamed, the feral screech of a wounded animal, and tightened my vice grip on Sara’s lifeless body. I wouldn’t let go, I couldn’t, finding strength I never knew to hold myself tightly to her, and finally when they lifted the filing cabinet from its fatal resting place, I pulled her on top of me, wailing, moaning her name.
Five days pass, I’m standing in front of my full length mirror, in the bedroom we shared for six years. The black dress I’m wearing is starting to fade now; I’ve been to so many funerals this week. The explosion claimed sixteen lives. Sara is the last one. My eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. I don’t even notice them burning any more. As I look around the room, at the pictures of us, at her things, my tears fall again, streaming down my pale cheeks. I wonder, how many tears can one person cry? The phone rings, I ignore it. It’s just Sara’s parents again. They hate me. Hate what we were... together. Not a day goes by that they don’t call to yell at me. They blame me. Why shouldn’t they? After all, it’s my fault.
The answering machine picks up. I listen to them rant and rave again. They’re angry. They wanted Sara to have a proper Lutheran funeral. They don’t seem to care that her will stated a simple graveside service. They don’t care that she hadn’t been to church in ten years. I cradle the pewter picture frame in my hands, staring at her lovely face. “Oh Sara, I can’t let go.” Dissolving in tears again I sink to the floor, clutching the picture to my heart. My heart pounds in my ears, an incessant drumbeat I can’t ignore. Finally I realize there’s another sound – the doorbell. It’s time to go. Time to let go. I can’t. I don’t know how. Her picture falls from my hand and I grab her black wool coat. I need her scent around me. Maybe then I can keep going. Maybe. My sister leads me out to the car, drives me to the cemetery, and hands me tissue after tissue from the unending supply in her purse. She doesn’t follow me to the grave, she knows I need to be alone.
But I’m not alone. Sara’s parents are there. Their cold stares seem to pierce right through me. Her mother hisses as she recognizes Sara’s coat. “Take it off you little bitch! You have no right!” She starts towards me, but the preacher steps between us.
I shrink back, quickly stepping to the other side of the closed casket. She’s in there. My Sara. My love. My life. I can’t let go. The preacher’s speaking now, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. Does it matter? I hear the ocean in my ears. Monterey. Our trip to Monterey. I can see it. We’re walking along the beach, holding hands, stopping to pick up seashells. She smiles at me. I hear her. “Let me go, Teresa. It’s all right.” No! I can’t let go. My heart pounds in my ears.
I can’t hear, but I know the preacher’s stopped talking. He’s looking at me. He’s asking me to do something. What? I look down at the rose in my hands. I’m supposed to lay it over her coffin. No! I can’t let go. I shake my head. Her parents are staring. They’re angry. I feel my cheeks burning, my hands trembling. I squeeze the rose, the thorns pierce my skin. I barely notice. The incessant drumbeat thunders in my ears. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. My heart is cracking into a million tiny pieces. I see the coffin glistening in the sun. Glistening through my tears. It’s sinking into the ground. My hopes, my dreams, my life, all sinking down. I take one step back, try to take another. I want to run. Far enough, fast enough, and I’ll find her. But I can’t run. My legs are rooted to the ground. My eyes are fixed on the sinking coffin. Suddenly I’m sinking too. The pounding in my head is relentless. I scream so loud, so long, I can’t breathe. I stop sinking. The grass is wet, cool, under my cheek. The pounding stops. My breath leaves me. I feel her. Sara. I can’t let go.... I close my eyes. I know now. It’s possible to die from a broken heart. Darkness. Silence. I let go.
