“Can I have everyone’s attention? Grab your cookies and tea and head to your seats, please. I have to start today’s group with some unhappy news.” Candace reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, dabbing her eyes. She waited a few more minutes while everyone found their seats. A thick tension settled in the room that I didn’t like one bit.

“What do you think’s going on?” Corin whispered, and she seemed relatively normal after our strange moment, or whatever it was, minutes before.

I didn’t get a chance to respond before Candace started talking.

“I received a phone call earlier today that Geoffery suffered from a fatal heart attack this morning around ten o’clock.” There was an immediate cacophony of voices at the news.

I sat there in a state of shock, my mind going in a million different directions.

I thought about my earlier light-headedness and what it could possibly mean. What it could be a symptom of.

I felt a shiver of fear that I tried to tamp down.

I focused on Geoffery. His wacky Mickey Mouse watch and bag of mints that he shoved on everyone like crack. Realizing that he’d never show up in group again, wearing his plaid flat caps and insisting we take handfuls of sweets, hit me hard.

Corin let out a gasp and I looked over at her. She had gone pale and was gripping her hands together in her lap.

I started to say something to her, to offer some sort of support, but Candace was talking again.

“I know you guys are going to want to process this. So instead of our normal group activity, we can spend the time talking about Geoffery and what has happened. His wife will be making arrangements for his funeral, and when I know more, I’ll pass on that information to you. I know you’ll want to be there to pay your respects.”

Everyone seemed to start talking at once. Everyone was feeling the same mixture of grief, shock, and resignation that eventually we could all end up the same way.

Six feet under.

A general sense of depression descended and I tried not to get dragged down by it.

Life and death and contemplating morality could be a serious mood killer.

Because the truth was we were a group of people with heart problems. Even as we lived our lives and tried to go on like normal, our mutual fates hung like a heavy weight around our collective necks.

Death was, and always would be, a very real possibility for the people sitting in this circle with shock and grief on their faces. We lived our lives under its shadow every single day.

It was something I had been struggling with since my heart attack. Something I couldn’t ignore but tried not to dwell on. I was desperate to live my life anyway.

But then you get slapped in the face with a reminder that everything was temporary. I knew that everyone had the knowledge that one day it would all be over. No one was exempt from dying. But for someone like me it was so much more immediate. Because I had already seen what it’s like on the other end. I had seen the white light. The dark tunnel. And as much as I hated to admit it, the thought of what lay beyond terrified me.

I was scared shitless of dying.

So I did the only thing I could do.

Learn how to live all over again.

Corin made another gasping noise. She was shaking and chewing on her bottom lip, gnawing through flesh. A small bead of blood blossomed at the corner of her mouth.

“Corin. Are you all right?” I whispered. It was a stupid thing to ask. I could tell she wasn’t. I was pretty sure she was close to freaking out.

“Corin?” I said her name again, trying to get her attention.

“Let’s start tonight by going around the room and saying the first thing on your mind. Let’s get those feelings out in the open. They do more damage staying bottled up,” Candace instructed kindly, sitting down in her chair.

“Corin?” I gripped her arm and gave it a little shake, but she wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes were trained straight ahead. Wide and unblinking. I wasn’t sure where she was, but I was positive she wasn’t here.

“Jennifer, let’s start with you,” I could hear Candace saying, but my focus was on Corin.

“Corin!” I said a little louder, my hand still wrapped around her arm. Finally she looked at me.

“I can’t—” she rasped, shaking her head back and forth.

“Do you need to go outside and get some air?” I asked, trying to meet her eyes. She didn’t acknowledge me. I picked up one of her rigid hands and folded it between my palms. She felt cold. Ice cold.

Shit.

She wrenched her hand free and I tried not to be hurt by her rejection. But damn it, I was.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone. I spoke with him only yesterday. He called to give me his wife’s recipe for carrot cake. He was in a great mood. He said he had a doctor’s appointment on Friday but he felt good about it. He was supposed to talk about the new pacemaker.” Tammy was crying. Several other group members were sobbing not so silently, adding to the chorus of anguish.

“It sounds so horrible, but I’m terrified that will happen to me. That I could be playing with my granddaughter or watching a movie with my wife and poof. That’s it. I’m done. No warning. Just gone,” said Carl, the forty-year-old taxi driver with coronary heart disease, and there was a murmur of agreement from most of the others.

There it was. The tangible dread. So thick I could taste it.

One by one Candace went around the circle and let everyone give voice to their shock. Their terrifying fear of their own mortality. And with every person’s words, Corin became more and more agitated.

I tried saying her name a few more times but she continued to ignore me.

“Corin. Do you have anything you’d like to say?” Candace asked after she had gone around the circle.

Corin remained mute, her trembling hands an iron vice in her lap.

“Corin?” Candace repeated, and I looked at the woman beside me, recognizing a brokenness in her eyes that I had felt in my bones so many times before.

“Corin,” I whispered, leaning in close, touching her arm. Connecting.

She jerked away and got to her feet. Without another word she fled the room, leaving a room full of people gaping after her.

Candace immediately went to follow but I stopped her.

“Let me. She and I…well…we’re friends,” I said. Candace nodded and patted me on the back.

“Okay, but come and get me if you need me,” Candace offered, looking concerned for Corin.

“I will. I think Geoffery’s death has hit her hard,” I excused, knowing deep down it was a lot more than that.

“I understand. We all do,” Candace sympathized.

I walked out into the hallway, calling her name. There was no response and I didn’t see any sign of Corin. Where did she go?

I walked out to the enclosed courtyard—she wasn’t there.

“Corin?” I called out. No answer.

I searched every room, every shadowed hallway, and she was nowhere in sight. It was obvious she had left.

I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick text. I had never texted her before. But I was starting to get really worried. I just kept thinking about her face as she ran from the room.

She looked as though ghosts were chasing her.

Where are you? Are you okay? -Beckett

I leaned against the wall, waiting for her to respond.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Nothing.

I checked my phone but there wasn’t any response to my text. So I wrote another one.

Please, Corin. Let me know you’re all right. I’m going out of my mind here.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

Then my phone chimed just as I was ready to jump in my car and start trying to track her down.

I’m fine. I’m sorry if I worried you.

That was it.

Can I come and see you? I texted back.

I was half out of my mind wanting to see her. I knew pushing Corin was a bad idea but at that moment I didn’t give a shit. I needed to make sure, with my own eyes, that she was fine. I didn’t want to take her word for it.