Live Without You

by Sarah Grace Grzy

  For the moment, at least, she felt happy. It was a freeing feeling.

  They’d gotten everything needed for Piper’s kitten, some groceries, and even stopped for a quick lunch. And Piper had actually seemed like her old self. Ezra pulled into her driveway and switched off the ignition, pushing open his door and stepping out onto the icy pavement. He heard a light squeal and jerked back around to find Piper gone. Rushing around the front of the car, he found her sitting on the slick concrete, a pained expression on her face.

  “Whoa, you okay?” He squatted next to her.

  She winced and nodded. “I think so . . . I can’t seem to stay on my feet lately. Ice is slippery, by the way.”

  He chuckled and pushed to his feet. “At least you still have your sense of humor.” Grasping her good arm and placing his other hand on her waist, he smoothly pulled her to her feet, noting how small she was. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked again, still keeping a grip on her arm. She sent him a look that bespoke sass and extricated her arm from his.

  “I hurt my pride, not my legs, Ezra.”

  He laughed. “If you say so. You go see to Finley. I’ll get the stuff out of the back.”

  Piper cautiously turned towards the house, and he pulled the grocery sacks full of items out of the trunk and brought them in. Setting them on her dining room table, he turned and found her standing behind him, Finley purring contentedly in her arms.

  “Thank you so much for today, Ezra. It was nice to get out of the house for a bit.” Her smile was sincere and gratitude softened the stressed lines of her face.

  He shrugged self-consciously. “Anytime. I didn’t have anything better to do with my morning anyway.”

  Piper nodded, then studied him thoughtfully, hand still methodically stroking Finley. “I never asked. How is your dad?”

  “Oh, he’s good. He’s got a great job, and loves it, so, yeah. He’s doing good.”

  She nodded again, then looked down before meeting his eyes, her own now shaded. “You both left so suddenly after . . . well, you know.” She looked down at the kitten again, avoiding his eyes. His heart clenched at the memory of what she was alluding to, and he shifted uncomfortably, his eyes wandering around the room. He looked back at her and found her shimmering brown eyes drilling into him with an intensity he hadn't seen before.

  “Why?” she murmured. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

  Ezra’s gut twisted. Because he’d been drunk on pain, on anger. And other substances. But he couldn’t tell her that. Any of it. He reached out and rested his hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Piper.” His voice cracked on her name, and the disappointment clouding her eyes felt like a literal blow to his diaphragm.

  He couldn’t. Not now.

  He stepped around her and let himself out, jogging down the driveaway. Getting in his car, he turned onto the street as his heart beat to the tune of failure, failure, failure.

  His father’s voice filtered above the noise of his heart in clear relief.

  “You gotta stop running from the pain, Ezra. You have to face it like a man and only then will it go away.”

  But he couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face her. Not about this. The pain and disgust that would fill her eyes if he told her would be far worse than the disappointment that filled them today.

  Stop running, Ez . . . stop running.

  He knew God had forgiven him of his past and didn’t hold it against him.

  But that didn’t mean Piper would do the same.

  P iper stood unmoving as the door softly clicked shut behind Ezra and his footsteps sounded down the driveway.

  Alone. Again.

  The kitten in her arms meowed, and Piper realized she’d been unconsciously squeezing her. “Sorry, Finley. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You weren’t the one who left.” Finley just licked Piper’s fingers in reconciliation, and she giggled. “Guess you’re hungry.”

  She poured some of the food they’d bought into a small dish and set it on the floor next to the kitten. Finley eagerly dug in and Piper put away the groceries, settled the kitten bed in her room, and tucked the cat food on a shelf in the garage.

  Piper stood with her hand on her hip and blew out a breath. Now what? She’d really enjoyed the time with Ezra . . . until his strange reaction to her simple question.

  She had a right to know why he left so suddenly all those years ago. Paul wouldn’t tell her, just saying that Ezra and his dad had needed some space after Ezra’s mom had died. It still didn’t give a person a reason to leave and not say goodbye to friends. Paul had admitted that Ezra hadn’t said goodbye to him either. He hadn’t even told him where he was going.

  He had just abandoned them like everyone else had done in her life . . . She heaved a sigh. Was there anyone she could trust? Maybe it was her fault every person in her life walked out.

  All your fault . . . the mocking voice had taken up residence in her mind again. Tears burned behind her eyes as the three words echoed tauntingly through the corridors of her mind. She clenched her teeth and fists against them.

  “It’s not my fault!” Her yell sent Finley scrambling for safety and the tears flowing in earnest. She sank onto the sofa and pulled her knees up against her chest, burrowing her face in them. The tears soaked the knees of her jeans. How long? How long would the voices in her head taunt her? How long would the pain and guilt settle like a rock on her chest, making it so hard to breathe?

  “I just want peace, God. Peace,” she muttered into her knees. She sat there, shaking as the sobs wracked her body, letting her mind and heart slowly grow numb. It was easier to ignore the elephant sitting on her chest than address it.

  So that’s what she’d do.

  Flopping sideways on the couch, she pulled the fuzzy throw blanket over her body. Finley came out of hiding and cuddled up against her as she closed her eyes. Soon her breathing grew regular as a restless sleep of exhaustion overtook her body.

  Ezra pulled into Piper’s drive, switched off the ignition, and took a deep breath. A much needed apology was in order—and an explanation. He’d rather be hanging out with Richie Smity—the most annoying guy from the department—than be here. Which was saying a lot.

  He’d put it off for two days already. Sucking in another deep breath, he started up the walk to her front door. He raised a hand to knock, but paused when the muted sounds of mumbling came through the door. The TV perhaps? Although it didn’t sound like it. Frowning, he knocked and when there was no answer, knocked again. He turned the knob and found it was unlocked. Pushing the door open, he prayed he wasn’t making a mistake. But he knew there was a reason he was here. He peered around the corner of the entryway into the main area. The house was silent except for thrashing and muted mumblings coming from the couch.

  “Piper?” he called softly. No answer. He gulped and glanced behind him. Well, he couldn’t really leave now. He stepped into the room and dropped to a knee by the couch. Her mumblings morphed into actual words.

  “Please don’t leave me! You can’t leave! Somebody help him!”

  Ezra swallowed down the emotion her pitiful tone raised. She was having a nightmare. Gripping her good arm, he gently shook her. “Piper? Piper, it’s just a dream; wake up.”

  Her eyes shot open and she blinked into his face once before launching herself into an upright position, the sudden movement startling him and causing him to backpedal two steps. She fixed him with a wide-eyed stare, her eyes still glossy and unfocused. “Paul?” she croaked.

  A tiny crack appeared in his heart. He shook his head and spoke softly, soothingly, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. “No, it’s me, Ezra.” No fever.

  Recognition dawned in her now-clear eyes before she closed them and leaned her head back against the couch with a groan. Silence stretched between them only broken by Piper’s ragged breathing.

  This was a bad idea.

  Finally Ezra cleared his throat and spoke. “I’m sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer a
nd I heard . . . and the door was unlocked, so . . .” he finished lamely and shrugged.

  She lifted her head up and shook it. “It’s all right. Thanks . . . thanks for waking me up.” She shook her head again as if to clear it of the dream. Then cleared her throat. “Why’d you come over?”

  “I . . .” Well, he couldn’t very well bring up the topic he had planned on now. “I just thought you might like some company and I wasn’t working today, and I know you don’t know anyone else around Arlington.”

  A smile quirked up her lips and the room seemed to lighten. “Except Cecile. She was a sweetheart. Gave me her phone number and told me to call if I ever needed anything. She’s the only person I know here.” Her words were spoken in a wistful tone.

  “Well, you know me. We go way back.” Ezra grinned.

  She gave a slight chuckle and the way she looked at him made him wonder if she wished she didn’t know him. Or something. He was never good at interpreting women’s facial expressions with any accuracy. They were never what they seemed, he’d learned. You’d think crying meant sad, and smiling meant happy, but somehow crying could mean happy too . . . so maybe it was just better not to assume. “Piper, if you’d rather I didn't come over, then that’s fine. I understand.”

  She abruptly looked up from her lap and met his eyes, startled. “No! I mean, no, it’s fine. It was very thoughtful of you to come over and I . . . I like the company. It’s just . . .” Her face scrunched up as she searched for words. Standing, she maneuvered through the mess of computer cords and cables and stray pillows scattered across the floor to stand at the window. It looked like an electrician—or maybe just a tech geek—had had a heyday in her living room.

  Ezra stood and shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for her to finish her sentence. “It’s just . . . ?” he prompted.

  “It’s just you . . . he . . .” she sighed. “You remind me of Paul,” she whispered. “I’ve done such a good job of burying the memories away in the furthest corners of my mind. It’s how I cope. But with this—” she gestured to her shoulder “—and you, everything’s unraveling and it just hurts, Ezra. It hurts.” Her voice broke on the last words.

  The silence was unbroken after Piper’s rambling confession. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Piper,” he whispered.

  At Ezra’s softly spoken words, something cracked and the dam she’d tried so hard to shore up broke loose. Silently, sobs shook her body and all the grief, pain, and guilt she’d tried so hard to bury welled up and overwhelmed her. What was wrong with her? Spilling her guts to a practical stranger—regardless of whether said stranger had been basically a brother at one point in her life. And now crying? Piper tried vainly to stop the emotion and lock it back up tight, but as water rushing from opened floodgates can’t be stopped, neither would the tears.

  The next thing she knew she was enveloped in a giant, but soft, bear hug. The kindness behind the gesture only made the tears flow faster.

  Finally, the well ran dry. Piper felt so empty. But maybe that was better than the lead that had weighed her down before. Ezra took a step back out of the hug and after a glance at her face, grabbed an entire box of tissues off the nearby end table and handed it to her. She gave a broken chuckle and sniffed. “That bad, huh?”

  He just grinned and gently pushed her to sit on the couch. Then, grabbing up the sling she’d taken off and deposited on the floor, he guided her arm into it with practiced care. “Leave that on,” he instructed with a stern look.

  She swallowed and mopped her face with her other hand. “Yes, doctor.”

  He patted the top of her head condescendingly and strolled off towards the kitchen. She heard the sounds of the water kettle boiling and the thump of mugs hitting the counter. She sniffled against the tears that wanted to erupt again and leaned her head against the back of the couch. Why was he being so nice?

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Flashbacks of the nightmare floated through her mind with startling clarity. She tried to shut them out, but couldn’t. The red was seeping everywhere. . . .

  Heart beating wildly, Piper opened her eyes and started counting the blue books on the shelf on the opposite wall. Anything but the red ones. . . .

  Ezra poked his head out of the kitchen and asked, “No coffee?”

  She shook her head.

  He popped back into the kitchen muttering something about coffee in an incredulous tone. Two minutes later he showed up with two mugs of tea and handed her one. Peppermint. She grimaced slightly and held it in her lap. A tin of it was in the box of food Ezra had brought. She thought she’d thrown it away.

  Ezra took a seat across from her with his own mug and took a sip, doing a double take into the mug with a wrinkle in his brow. Apparently peppermint tea wasn’t his thing either. But it was the thought that counted. He looked up at her. “Want to talk about it?”

  “About what?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her facetious response and answered in kind. “It.”

  She set aside her mug. “How about we talk about why you left.” Wait, did she really want to talk about that right now? Yes. She wanted answers. She kept her head down but peeked up at his face and saw his eyes darken and his jaw tighten. A muscle in his cheek throbbed with the tension and he stared at his mug of tea as if it contained answers within.

  Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. “That’s actually why I came . . . I wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly earlier . . . well, the other day. I’m sorry, that was rude. I . . . I—” he sighed. “I’m sorry, Piper.”

  She leaned forward, clenching her hands together. “But what about nine years ago?”

  Ezra set his mug on the end table and pushed to his feet, paced to the window and stared out at the frozen landscape, his back to her. His shoulders were rigid and his arms folded across his chest. Then he turned and faced her, meeting her eyes. “Because I was stupid.” Shame flushed his squared jaw and he walked back to sit next to her. “After my mom died, I . . . lost it. I was mad at myself, God, my mom, my dad.” He snorted. “Pretty much everyone who was anyone. My grades started tanking and my instructors threatened to expel me. And . . .” he swallowed hard and looked down. “I started drinking. Man, was I messed up. Dad and Paul tried to help, but I just ignored them. One night, I came home, stoned.” Piper stiffened and he grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly, his eyes begging her to understand. He shook his head. “Paul didn’t want you to know . . . And he told me to get it together or leave. He said he’d help me, but that I had to want it. I didn’t want it, then . . . I just wanted to numb the pain. I was barely existing, let alone living. So my dad and I packed up and moved here. He thought the fresh start would be good for both of us.” He paused and drew in a deep breath.

  “Was it?” Piper asked softly.

  “No. Yes. It made me realize what I’d lost. What I’d wasted. I felt like I blew it. I didn’t think there was anything worth living for . . .” His voice cracked and the full import of his words sunk in. “I almost killed myself,” he whispered, agony in his eyes.

  “Oh, Ezra . . . ,” she breathed, tears slowly trickling down her face.

  “My dad . . .” He cleared his throat and started again. “My dad saved my life. And he helped me turn it back around. He loved me through the worst time of my life, and that’s when I knew it was going to be okay.” Tears now tracked down his cheeks as well. “Eventually I finished school, got a job. Got right with God . . . I never want to go back to that place again,” he choked out.

  Piper’s heart cracked at the depth of pain he’d gone through. And she’d never known. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hesitated before folding his arms around her, burying his face on her shoulder. She felt shudders wrack his body and tightened her grip.

  She didn’t know how long they sat there like that before Ezra finally drew back. He ran a hand over his face and seemed to wipe away the memories. He went back to his chair across from her and picked
up his mug of now-cold tea, staring silently into it. Piper just waited, sensing there was more he wanted to say. Finally, he set the mug on the end table and met her eyes again.

  “I’m sorry for leaving, Piper. I’m sorry for not saying goodbye. I’m sorry for not being there when . . . when Paul died.” His voice cracked again and Piper closed her eyes against the threatening of tears again.

  The pain was almost tangible, and Piper’s heart throbbed dully at the reminder of Paul.

  “Why?” she forced out. “If God is so good, then why is there so much pain, so much death in this world?”

  Ezra knelt in front of her and gripped her hands tightly, compelling her to look at him. She did and the raw earnestness in them surprised her. “Piper, He is good. He’s sovereign, but there are natural consequences to our sin. But that doesn’t mean He’s not good. He is, Piper. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it and felt it in the depths of my soul, that He is good. He saved my life. He redeemed me, even after I’d messed things up so badly. He loves us, Piper. And He’s good. I know it’s hard to believe that, ’cause I’ve been there too, but He is.” Moisture sparkled in his clear green eyes that begged her to believe him. To believe. And she wanted to—she wanted to so badly—but she wasn't sure her heart could handle any more disappointments if Ezra was wrong. . . .

  Ezra peered into Piper’s eyes, and felt that he could see the very depths of her heart . . . she was terrified. Terrified to be hurt again. He could see the fear, the guilt, the pain. And his heart clenched, wishing he could take it all away. Wishing he could fix it, make it all better. Help her somehow. But he knew there was nothing more he could do right now. And that hurt.

  Except pray. Father, heal her hurt. Heal her heart.

  He stood and gently tugged her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her again. She felt small, fragile, able to break at the slightest impact. And he knew she was. “It’s okay, Piper. It’s okay,” he murmured, softly rubbing her back and feeling the tension slip away. He eased back to look at her and was worried by the hollow look in her eyes. “Hey. Are you okay?” he asked softly.