Borrowed time

The argument started over nothing. That and the fact that something so small could break a whole life was what Aurelia would ponder most. It was that late afternoon hour when the light is still a holdout, clinging to its last dapples on the kitchen’s surfaces. The windows were open, and there was the sound of muted city — a car speeding by, laughter in the distance, a soft clattering of silverware from an apartment next door. Ordinary sounds. Safe sounds. Elias propped himself on the counter, phone in one hand, keys to his car dangling between his fingers. He looked quite comfortable, curse him, as if nothing on earth could ever hurt him. The hip he had propped on the corner of the counter, lazy and relaxed, was a casual stance — too casual. “You’re going out again?” she asked, trying not to sound casual. Elias glanced up, and his brows raised a little. “Yeah. I told you earlier.” “No, you didn’t,” she said. “You said maybe.” He shrugged. “Plans changed.” That shrug — that careless, disdainful wave — was what triggered the sharp something inside of her. “You always like to do stuff like this,” Aurelia said. “You’re one thing and then it’s, like, whoopsie-daisy, you didn’t say that.” Elias sighed, already irritated. “So, like, why do you even care?” “Because it’s always me,” she snarled. “I’m the one that they’re pulling off forever. Who has to worry.” He suppressed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Geez, Aurelia, you really know how to suck the fun out of a room.” Her chest tightened. “That’s not fair.” “It is fair,” he shot back. “You’re always hovering. Always like something awful is going to happen.” “Because sometimes it is,” she said. “Because there’s got to be somebody who’s responsible. Elias turned to look at her, his expression marbleizing into hard planes. “You’re not my mother.” “I know that,” Aurelia said, louder than she’d meant. “But someone has to care.” “I care,” he snapped. “Not just not in the suffocating process you do.” The word hit her like a slap. “Suffocating?” she repeated. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly, it feels that way. Like you’re constantly waiting for me to fall short so that you can go, I told you so.” “That’s not true.” I said “Isn’t it?” He asked sarcastically The silence in the space between them grew, thick and troubled. Aurelia felt warmth gather behind her eyes, but she refused to let the tears fall. She felt like a fool, a feeling that had always made her weep, and she was not going to weep before him. “You don’t,” she said softly. “You just react. You don’t realize how your actions impact everyone else.” “And you overthink,” Elias fired back. “You’re scared of everything. You don’t live—you just exist.” Her breath caught. That one landed deep. “I am not scared,” she said, her voice trembling. “You are,” he insisted. “You’re scared of losing control. Scared of change. Scared of letting go.” Aurelia laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you know me so well? “I do,” he said. “Better than you think.” She faced away from him, one hand splayed on the rim of the counter as she rooted herself in its coolness. Her heart, she could feel, was racing; her thoughts were galloping too fast to grasp. “Just go,” she said. “Do whatever you want. You always do anyway.” Elias’s jaw tightened. He yanked his jacket of the chair now. “Fine,” he said. “I will.” The zipping sound rang too true in the tiny kitchen. “Do you?” Aurelia glanced back at him, her chest tightening. This wasn’t how she wanted all of this to end. She wished she could take her words back, mold them into something soft and pliable. But pride was a stubborn creature, and anger had an otherworldly knack for feeling good. “Don’t come back to me and pretend to be sorry,” she said. “I’m tired of cleaning up after you?" Elias froze. Slowly, he turned around. There was a moment when the anger emptied from his face and revealed something raw, painful. He searched her face with his eyes, as though to ascertain if he might remain. “That is not required,” he responded gently. “I never asked you to.” His voice gave her chest such a pained feeling. She opened her mouth. Almost apologized. Almost said, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that. But the moment passed. Elias nodded his head once resolutely and stepped out. There was a faint click and the door closed behind him. Aurelia stood there for several minutes after that, heart pounding as she looked at the closed door. She promised herself she would make amends later. Elias always came back. And they always returned to each other. Little did she know those would be the final words spoken to him. ⸻ When he left, it was too quiet in the house. Aurelia returned to her room, sat on the bed and looked at the ceiling. She replayed the argument in her head, recasting its dialogue. In both versions, she stopped him. Each time she chose softer tones, chuckled it off and said “be safe. She checked her phone. No messages. He’s just swamped, she told herself. Minutes stretched into hours. The sky outside darkened. Her phone rang. The noise made it’s way through the silence. She answered without thinking. “Hello?” Her mother’s voice picked up on the other end — thin, raspy and barely recognizable. “Aurelia,” she said. “You need to come now.” Confusion flooded her. “Come where?” There was a pause. A breath that sounded like it might be painful. “There’s been an accident.” The words were incomprehensible at first. “What do you mean?” Aurelia asked. “Where’s Elias?” Another pause. Hospital. Her hands started to shake. "Coming," she said, and was already grabbing her coat, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. ⸻ The hospital was too bright. Too white. Antiseptic seared her nostrils as she raced down the hall; her feet pounding wall. Everything felt surreal, as if she were living through somebody else’s nightmare. She saw her father first. There was Thomas slouched against the wall, shoulder blades pushed together in a way she’d never seen. His eyes drifted. “ Dad,” said Aurelia, her voice trembling. “Where is he?” Thomas looked at her. And something shattered in that gaze. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Her stomach dropped. “No,” she whispered. “No. Where is he?” Her mother collapsed into her arms, weeping so hard she could not speak. Doctors spoke. Nurses moved. Machines beeped. But Aurelia heard nothing. She heard the words bouncing around in her head. Don’t come back pretending you’re sorry Her last words to him. She had never got the chance to say sorry. Elias was gone.