Every Time You Go Away

by Beth Harbison

  “I’m not getting a boyfriend anytime soon,” I reiterated to Jamie. “But I sure do appreciate your care and the fact that you thought to tell me that.”

  He gave a half shrug. “Sure. ’Night.”

  “Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”

  The door was already closed before I heard a muffled, “Love you too.”

  There was something about an I love you too that seemed infinitely less sincere than I love you, but I sure wasn’t going to quibble with that now. I’d take it.

  “He’s a good kid,” Ben’s voice came, almost as soft as the wind against the windowpane.

  I nodded, unable, suddenly, to speak.

  “You’ve done good, girl.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Don’t give me all the credit. For better or worse, we did good.”

  He looked sad. “I haven’t been here, babe.”

  “You were,” I argued.

  I heard footsteps on the stairs and picked up my phone, just in case, and lowered my voice.

  “You were there for all the important early milestones. You were there for those crucial foundational years. You were there for birthdays and Christmases.”

  “And funerals?” he added. “I’m sorry, but that was you. You’ve been there for the hardest part of his life. I can’t take credit for that, it’s all you, baby.”

  Are there people out there who would love that acknowledgment? Who would love to be told that they, alone, had climbed the mountain and gotten to the top? Sure. Probably most people would love to hear that and get that pat on the back.

  But I had never liked it as much as you’d expect. Even when I was a kid and I got the best grade in the class, I’d be embarrassed to stand out by myself. I didn’t like being the center of attention. Especially for something good. I think maybe if I’d been singled out for sucking, it would have been less lonely. After all, when you suck, someone else always comes along—usually sooner rather than later—to suck more.

  But his praise for my surviving and not taking my son down in a cloud of smoke just made me feel alone. What was praiseworthy to Ben—and probably to a lot of people—just put a spotlight on how solitary my life was and how—yay me!—I had managed to not wither and die even when that was what I’d wanted more than anything.

  “You don’t understand,” I said to him. “All those things you’re saying I don’t understand and can’t understand? Well, there are a few things you don’t understand either.”

  I wanted to tell him to go, to just leave me alone to my self-pity. Once upon a time, I would have pulled that crap. Flounced up to the bedroom alone, maybe slammed the door. Watched some Real Housewives on Bravo, or something like it, frowning the whole time and continually chewing on whatever had pissed me off.

  But I couldn’t do that now. I didn’t dare tell him to go away or leave me alone, because I didn’t know the rules of this game we were playing. Maybe if I told him to beat it he’d truly disappear once and for all instead of coming back to me tenderly and telling me how sorry he was to have been so insensitive and how much he loved me and how he’d spend the rest of his life doing everything he could to make me happy and let me know how much he appreciated me …

  So instead I just rolled over and pulled the sheets up to cover my shoulders. I knew he remained there, still looking at me, because I could feel the slightly eerie cold on my back.

  But I didn’t care about the cold, I only cared that he was still there, that he was able to be there, and that he would, please God, stay there and let me soak in his presence so it could last me as long as possible once he was gone.

  “I love you,” I said to him softly. You are the love of my life, I didn’t add out loud. I adored you the moment I saw you and I knew I would know your face forever. You took my whole heart and soul, and every minute we spent together was a treasure. Our son is a treasure. Our home was a treasure.

  Our life was a treasure.

  And if I never see you again, as I fear every day is the truth, then I will never forget you and I will never move on with someone else no matter how much you want me to, because if I let someone else into that space, I’m scared to death they will edge you out of my memory, if only from some self-protective mechanism.

  So I love you, Ben, and I won’t move on, and I won’t forget.

  All those things I thought but did not say.

  I don’t know what he thought.

  All I heard was the very softest, most achingly familiar, “I love you too, baby.”

  And somehow, even with those words, I knew he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Willa

  “I think the kids went out last night,” Kristin said over a breakfast of crispy bacon, a puffy pancake I got the recipe for online, and strong French roast coffee with real cream.

  If I was going to be depressed, I was going to do it with real cream.

  And Kristin, god bless her, was the kind of trooper friend who would take a hit for me and join me in indulgent foods. The fact that she never gained an ounce, and frequently lost too much if she wasn’t vigilant about eating, was beside the point.

  I poured some cane syrup and lemon juice on my pancake. “You’re not saying you think they had a … rendezvous.”

  “I am.” She nodded, lips pressed together, though I could see the smile in her eyes. “I certainly am.”

  “But…” I thought about it. Jamie and Kelsey? Weren’t they still, like, six? Of course not. They were teenage kids, hormones jumping. What did I expect? “Well, that would be absolutely adorable.”

  “Wouldn’t it?”

  “What would?” Kelsey came in like a play character, right on cue. She went straight to the stove and took a piece of bacon out of the pan. “Ouch ouch ouch, omigod.” She blew on it, then popped it into her mouth, leaving part of it hanging out like a cigar. “This is so hot,” she said through her teeth.

  “You took it out of a hot pan,” Kristin pointed out, then cut a piece off her pancake. “That should have indicated it was hot. Speaking of hot, what did you—”

  “Want for breakfast?” I hurried, shooting Kristin a withering glance. I didn’t want her to make the kids self-conscious. If, by some miracle, they were interested in each other, I didn’t want to interrupt that.

  I had to fight visions of Roxy melting in a steamy puddle after water was thrown on her.

  “I guess I’ll just have what you guys are having,” Kelsey said. “Except, why just one pancake?”

  “Because,” I explained, gesturing at the plate, “as you can see, they are enormous.”

  “I’ll have three,” she said anyway. She had her mother’s metabolism. I took out the mixing bowl and put the makings in for three massive pancakes—six eggs, one and a half cups of flour, and one and a half cups of milk, plus a generous grinding of nutmeg. Bake in a pan for twenty minutes at four twenty-five. I’d done it a million times for Jamie and Ben. The result was like big puffy pan popovers and she was going to hog down the equivalent of something like twelve.

  I bet she could do it too, but whatever she couldn’t eat, I was sure Jamie would.

  Which reminded me. “Where is Jamie?” I asked.

  A guilty flush rose in Kelsey’s cheeks. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since last night.”

  “Last night?” Kristin asked, her voice the equivalent of an arched eyebrow.

  “When we were all, you know … here.”

  “Of course,” I said pointedly. Her flushed face gave her away—she and Jamie had snuck out together. How cute. And how funny that they didn’t want us to know. “When you were here. He’s probably still asleep. He doesn’t go to work until the afternoon.”

  “Yeah, he works at four today,” Kelsey said, wrinkling her tanned nose. “I’m going to go with him tomorrow because he’s going to try to get me a job there too.”

  Kristin swallowed and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “That’s good, but honey, I don’t know how long we’re staying.”
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  “Well, actually … if you were serious last night … I was kind of hoping I could stay on here and work for the rest of the summer,” Kelsey said, looking at me hopefully. “If it’s all right with you, Willa. I mean, I know Jamie’s hoping to stay and do the same, so, even if you wanted to go or whatever, we could take care of the place.”

  Jamie walked in. “I’m doing what?”

  “Staying all summer,” Kelsey told him. “I wanted to stay too. If it’s at all possible.” She looked back at me.

  I looked at Kristin, behind her, and she shrugged. Whatever you think. “It’s fine with me,” I said, pretty happy with the idea of having more people guaranteed to stay in the house at least as long as I was here. “By then I’ll have a Realtor listing the place, but as long as you guys understand that you’ll have to pack up and go back home if there’s a sale, I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t stay here.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Kelsey wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight. “Thank you so much.”

  I made eye contact with Kristin and she was smiling. This was a great opportunity for Kelsey.

  And I dearly hoped it would help Jamie to reframe his idea of the house into something fun and warm, rather than just the sad place where his dad had passed. Already he did seem to be enjoying himself, though. I wasn’t sure any of us were going to gleefully take over the master bedroom when Kristin went back home, but it would be great if he at least carried happy memories of this place that had meant so much to us.

  The kids leaned on the counter and ate. I wasn’t surprised Kelsey could not eat everything she’d asked for but, as predicted, Jamie did. They were almost out of here when Jamie stopped at the sink and asked, “So, Kristin, do you know this Georgina person my mom was arguing with last night?”

  “Georgina?” Kristin set her coffee cup down and looked at me. “Never heard of her. You were arguing with her?”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  Before I could speak, Jamie continued, “She works at the school. Doesn’t she, Mom?”

  All eyes were on me. “Um.” Brilliant start. No one would ever suspect I was floundering. I fixed a quizzical expression on my face and turned to Jamie. “She doesn’t work at the school. And we weren’t arguing.”

  “I’ve never heard of her,” Kristin said, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “Who is she?”

  Visions of Monty Python crying, Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, came to mind.

  “You misunderstood,” I said to Jamie. “I don’t work with her, I work out with her.” Boy, it was lame. Everyone knew I didn’t work out. But I did have time off to do things alone, so who was to say I wasn’t working out in some way, shape, or form?

  Besides my son and my best friend, that is. Both were looking at me as if they’d caught me in a huge blunder.

  “What?” I demanded, with more indignation than I could bring myself to feel. “I work out.”

  “Okay.” Kristin shrugged.

  “When?” Jamie wanted to know. He was with me more than Kristin, so he was predictably the one more skeptical of my claim.

  “I go to yoga sometimes at Sol Yoga in Frederick,” I said. “What is your problem, do you think I’m making Georgiana up?” As if the very idea were outrageous.

  He started to back off, then frowned and said, “You said her name was Georgina.”

  I had. He was right. I rolled my eyes. “Georgina is Georgiana. It’s just … short for it.”

  “Georgie would be better,” Kelsey said, but she was shushed by her mother. “I just mean as a catchall nickname.” She looked at me. “Is she Greek? Georgie is a common Greek name.”

  “I think she is.” I nodded thoughtfully. This was ridiculous. “I don’t really know her that well, so I’m not sure.”

  That quieted everyone for a moment.

  “We should go, Jam.” Kelsey was in full chipper mode, ready to go conquer the boardwalk. I was glad to see it. Jamie was always a bit understated, but she burned a fire under him. As soon as she spoke, his eyes lit up.

  “Right,” he said. Then he looked at me. “Call me if you need me, okay? It’s not too hard for me to get off work if you need something.”

  “I’m fine,” I told him. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got Kristin here. We’ll be good.”

  He looked dubious. “Okay.”

  He and Kelsey clomped out of the house and banged the screen door after them. I loved that sound. Almost no one had an old-fashioned screen door anymore. Even at home I had a sturdy double-paned storm door that had a soft-touch lock, meaning that it slowed itself down when you let go of it and closed with a gentle snick.

  Kristin was at the sink doing the dishes when I returned my attention to the kitchen, and I went to the table and brought her plate over, scootching Kelsey’s over too as I passed.

  “Thanks for doing the dishes,” I said. “The dishwasher works, so you can just put them in there.”

  “All right.” There was something off about her tone, but I couldn’t say what. She opened the dishwasher and loaded everything in, shooing me away every time I tried to help.

  Finally she finished, sponged down the countertop and dried it with a dishcloth, and put it all away.

  Then she turned to me with a look that was something between concern and accusation and said, “What’s the truth about this supposed Georgina person?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “Honestly, I was talking to myself when Jamie knocked and I was embarrassed to tell him that.”

  “Ah.” She nodded as if that made all the sense in the world. “Then you gave yourself a good talking-to.”

  “I did.”

  “About time someone did.”

  “Like you don’t!”

  She laughed. “I’m not shy; you have a point.”

  “What do you think about me dating?” I asked seriously. “You know, getting out there.”

  She lifted her brows. “Oooh, do you have an actual date on the table, or are you talking hypothetically?”

  “Hypothetically.” A breeze blew the sheer curtains and the scent of sea air touched my face. I frowned. Could I really do it?

  As weird as it was, maybe Ben’s all-too-brief (and way too ethereal) visits had reminded me what it was like to have a companion. I missed that. I missed him, of course, but maybe he was right, or even telling a truth that he knew. Maybe there was happiness on the horizon for me if I could just crack myself open a little bit.

  “Honestly, I think it’s a great idea,” Kristin said. “You’re so fun. You should be having fun all the time.”

  Fun. Gosh, I hadn’t thought of myself as fun for a long time. “I’ve been a real drag, haven’t I?” I asked her.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Not at all. You’ve been amazing. But you haven’t been happy, and we all know it.” She looked thoughtful. “I know you’re determined to sell this house, but I wonder if maybe being here isn’t what’s contributing to this lift in your mood.”

  I nodded. There was so much I couldn’t tell her about my visits with Ben. Even though I believed they were real, I’d be hard-pressed to convince any other sane, logical adult that they were. It was bad enough that she knew I’d been seeing him around.

  “Have you seen him again?” she asked, as if reading my mind.

  I smiled. “Nope.”

  Was it my imagination, or did her shoulders relax fractionally? “Maybe he just came through to reassure you that the end isn’t really the end and it’s safe to go on.”

  “I’m sure of it,” I said. She’d summarized it perfectly.

  “In that case,” she said, “I think it’s time for you to put your toes in the water. Literally and figuratively. Let’s go to the beach!”

  “The ocean will be freezing!”

  “Aw, come on, you’ve been in during June before. It’s not that bad. It’s a perfect analogy for life! Take the little discomforts bit by bit until you get used to them. The cold will warm right up if you let it.”
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  “You should be a life coach, you know that?”

  “I am,” she said with a laugh. “I’m a teacher. Just like you. We have all the knowledge we need inside of ourselves, we just need to find a way to act on it. Sometimes it takes a push.”

  “Well, you’re definitely pushy.”

  “Lucky for you. Come on, let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Jamie

  After breakfast the next day, Jamie went to the store to get khaki shorts for work and when he returned an hour or so later, it was to the sound of noisy conversation in the kitchen and—once he’d listened enough to identify the sound—whipped cream being sprayed out of a can.

  Not that he’d exactly forgotten, but he remembered with a crash that Kelsey would be there. Same as it was when he was a kid, he knew that today would be a more interesting version than it would have been without her.

  He glanced in the mirror by the door as he came in, then mentally stopped himself. Whose opinion was he concerned about? Kelsey’s?

  As he headed for the kitchen, he heard Kelsey’s voice. She was telling a story. She always had that tone when she told a story. Whatever it had been, it made their moms crack up.

  He hadn’t heard his mom laugh like that very much lately. When she did laugh it was more rueful, or that “gallows humor” she was always talking about.

  When he went into the kitchen, they all greeted him with smiles and a variation on, “You’re back! Find some pants?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Coffee?” asked Kristin. “We’re all pretty caffeine buzzed at this point.”

  “Oh, oh, let me make it,” Kelsey said. “I worked at Starbucks for like a year, so now I’m sort of a pro. Plus I got a discount on a bunch of stuff and I brought some. Sit!” she said.

  He saw a silver canister of whipped cream on the counter. He’d been right, then, that was what he’d heard, and she had probably been—yep, as she turned the stovetop on and filled a small, angular silver pitcher with water, she sprayed whipped cream in her mouth.

  “You are such a pig,” said Kristin.

  “Ohmigod, I know.” She nodded back.