The next morning, Mitch's truck sped down the dirt road between the homes, kicking up a cloud of dust, and swung into the driveway. Shawn ambled over with his hands tucked into his pockets and met his friend as he slammed the driver's door shut. The passenger seat was empty, which was odd, because Mitch's fiancée, Lisa, was supposed to be with him.

"Hey, man," Shawn called out, unsure what else to say.

Mitch's eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red. He had a slight red mark on his cheek. "Tell me it's not true."

Shawn shook his head. "I wish." He'd checked his phone all night for a text or call from the Fosters saying she'd had a science-defying recovery or that the machines and doctors had somehow erred and she was alive.

Mitch slid down the side of the red vehicle and slammed his skull into the door panel hard enough to dent it. "I wasn't there." The truck rocked with another slam. "I wasn't fucking there." The vehicle rattled again with a third smack.

Shawn had never seen his other best friend like this. Mitch had been the leader of their trio: confident, optimistic, and loved to the point Shawn and Em would tease him about it almost daily. Mitch always had the answers or a positive spin. But now, he buried his head in his crossed arms, resting on his knees.

Shawn sat in the gravel driveway beside him. "She knew you were coming."

"It's not the same thing. I can't believe I listened to that bitch," Mitch muttered the second part under his breath. His curled lip and balled-up fists concerned Shawn, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

"Lisa couldn't come?"

"Lisa and I are done."

"Since when?"

"Since last night."

"Mitch, you can't make life-altering decisions right now." He and Lisa had set a date and had booked a venue for their wedding this summer. Their relationship had been stable since freshman year of college, and Mitch had never shared any doubts.

His eyes narrowed, and he fisted a handful of gravel. "Lisa is the reason I wasn't there. There is no circle of hell where I'd forgive her for destroying my chance to say goodbye to Emily." There was a certainty to his stare that urged Shawn not to push the matter further.

Emily would have had the perfect snarky line, or she'd have proposed a far too dangerous adventure that they'd go on full-well knowing it'd lead to trouble. But Em was gone, and Shawn's tongue sat limply in his mouth as he fought tears.

"Mitch is that you," Darla called from the front porch.

Mitch groaned and ran a hand through his short blond hair. "What am I supposed to say to her?"

Shawn studied his friend's expression and frowned. The Fosters were the most easy-going and welcoming people he knew. They'd practically taken him in as a second son. "Give her a hug and tell her you'll get through this together."

"I don't want to get through this. She's gone, Shawn. How the fuck is she gone?" Mitch's gaze bore into Shawn before his head shot back.

Shawn caught Mitch with his arm before he could smash his skull into the truck again.

"I don't know. It happened so fast. They said they found it early, then she was supposed to have a year, then days, and somehow she couldn't survive the night." Shawn sighed. His body and mind felt like they had gone through a meat grinder.

Darla called out Mitch's name again

"This can't be real," he muttered and buried his head again.

"I'll go talk to her. Come in when you're ready."

Shawn patted him on the back before walking to intercept Darla. She wore a housecoat and a pair of slippers. Unlike his mother, who hadn't had the luxury of living in a dual-income, upper-class reality, Mrs. Foster would normally never be caught dead in public like that.

"How are you holding up today, Darla?" Shawn asked. 

Darla sighed. "The house felt so empty this morning."

He swallowed her tiny form in a hug. Her dishevelled blond hair reminded him of Em and made his eyes water.

"Bless your heart, Shawn."

When she pulled away, her eyes were about as red as Mitch's, and she had large bags under them.

"Mitch just needs a minute or two."

"I can't believe she left before he arrived. Those two were inseparable, all three of you were."

"I wouldn't mention it to him. He's pretty upset about it."

Darla craned her head as she studied the truck and sighed. "How are you doing?"

Shawn shrugged. Sadness or pain visited frequently. "I'm taking it an hour at a time."

"Anything you need, dear, please ask, alright? This isn't any easier on you than the rest of us."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded.

***

In the days leading up to Emily's funeral, Mitch spent more and more time at Shawn's mother's place. There were few moments where his breath didn't reek of whiskey or beer, and she was giving him the stink eye as they finished the dishes together.

"You should cut that boy off, Shawn."

Shawn dried a dinner plate. "He's hurting, Mama, it hasn't even been a week."

"You're hurting too, but you know better than to act like a fool. He's going to kill someone drinking then joyriding like he has a death wish."

Some days, Shawn worried his mom was right. Darla would text him, asking if Mitch was at his place. Shawn would lie then drive to the lake to find his best friend getting drunk and high with the people he used to fight to keep away from Em. Shawn knew Mitch had smoked pot once in his life before this visit, to connect with Emily. He'd sworn it was disgusting, and he'd never do it again.

Now he waved a joint around as natural as an extra finger while his other arm was draped over the shoulders of a woman in a tiny skirt despite winter's chill. Hopefully, the bonfire was keeping her warm.

"Hey guys," Shawn said.

"Shit, this is a trip. Mitch, your boyfriend is here," Ricky said with a high-pitched laugh. What the hell was Mitch doing with this guy? He'd been an absolute dick to Em when they'd dated and had beaten her up more than once. The man belonged in jail.

Mitch took another hit and blew the smoke up in the air. "Shawn, you remember Vanessa."

If he remembered correctly, Vanessa also had two kids and had married a police officer. What was she doing here?

As if Mitch read Shawn's mind, he added. "We ran into each other at the store, and the backseat of my truck." He grinned like a sixteen-year-old.

"Hey, Shawn." Vanessa looked around the group of stoners and yawned. "It's late, and I should get home to check on my girls. It was great running into you, Mitch." She winked, stood and brushed some snow off her skirt. Shawn waited until she started up her truck and drove away.

"Mitch, do you have a minute?" Shawn asked. Mitch handed the joint to Ricky and followed Shawn toward the parking lot. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm relaxing, man. Try it sometime."

"You wouldn't have taken that answer from Em, and I won't take it from you. Ricky is a disgusting human being, and Vanessa is married. This isn't like you at all." Shawn caught Mitch's arm as he stumbled in the snow.

"Maybe I'm sick of being too good and too busy for my sister. Em was right, they're decent people," Mitch slurred.

"She thought that before she went to rehab and escaped an abusive situation. You remember what Ricky used to do to her."

"And look how much good rehab did for her. She's dead, Shawn, fucking dead."

The words made Shawn flinch and let go of Mitch as they approached the parking lot. "You think she'd want this for you? Getting high at the lake, ruining someone's marriage?"

Mitch threw back his head and laughed. "You think she'd care? Nothing I do matters. I'll always be the deadbeat who didn't show up on time."

"Stop this shit. You didn't get to say goodbye, and that's hard. I get it, but that doesn't give you a free pass to act like a dick. We're all hurting, and we're all exhausted missing her and taking care of you. So please, get in the car."

Mitch quieted as he slid into the passenger's seat. He didn't say another word the rest of the way home.