by R. R. Banks
My mind went back to what Garrett had said to me in the last moments before he stomped out of the classroom and disappeared.
He has been through more than your shiny, sugar-coated mind could ever comprehend.
That single line that hurt and enraged me more than anything else that he had said. How dare he make assumptions about me like that? How dare he pigeonhole me when he didn't even know me? He knew virtually nothing about me and yet, he had encapsulated me, created an image of what he thought I was, and projected all that he had gone through and all that his son had gone through onto me, not believing that I ever could have experienced anything that could have caused pain or heartache, anything that could burst the little bubble of perfection he thought that I lived. The thought made my stomach turn and my ears buzz. I had experienced what he would never understand, what he would never see just by looking at me. He couldn't see what I had endured. He couldn't see that there were so many times when I felt like one of the delicate blown glass ornaments I hung so carefully on my Christmas tree and then so hastily took down for the new year. On the outside, I seemed smooth, polished, even perfect. But all of that was just a thin, fragile veneer. Inside I was hollow and dark.
Seven years earlier…
"Are you sure?"
I was so breathless I wasn't entirely sure that my words were audible. Michael smiled at me, his face bright and high with the color of excitement and joy. He was kneeling in front of me, one hand clutching mine, the other presenting me with a ring. My hands were trembling, and I felt like I wasn't fully in the moment, like I wasn't really experiencing it.
"Of course, I'm sure," he said. "I love you. I love you more than anything in the world."
"I love you, too," I said.
But we're seventeen.
I didn't say it. Maybe I should have.
"Then tell me you'll marry me. Tell me that when I leave for school it will be with the promise that you'll be my wife when I come home."
I was so swept up I wasn't even thinking beyond his words. I nodded, smiling as the tears were forming in my eyes.
"Of course, I'll marry you."
Michael took my hands and slipped the ring on to my finger. I looked down at the delicate gold band and the single, perfect diamond sparkling up at me. He saw me staring at it and touched the stone with one finger.
"It was my grandmother's," he said. "When she and my grandfather first got engaged, he didn't have the money to buy her a real engagement ring. She just wore a simple ring that he had gotten at an estate sale. For their 30th Anniversary, he bought her this ring. She gave it to me when I told her that I want to marry you."
I lifted my eyes to his face, surprised by the statement.
"You told her?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "I told her that I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and that I would be honored if I was able to give her the ring that my grandfather had given to her. I know that they had a long, happy marriage and I want the first symbol of our marriage to represent that."
"But she hasn't even met me," I said.
"She's going to love you as much as I do. Well, maybe not as much as I do, but that's because no one in the world could possibly love anyone as much as I love you."
I smiled, covering his face with both hands and drawing it toward me for a kiss. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt almost dizzy with happiness. I have been dreading Michael leaving for college. We'd been together for two years and he was the center of my universe. I couldn't imagine spending a single day without him, much less years. I knew that he was my future. He was my everything. He had been accepted into an exclusive program that would take him across the country for almost three months out of his first semester and the thought of him being that far away from me had been devastating. Now, though, things were different. I knew that we were still going to be apart. He was leaving in a matter of days and I wasn't going to be able to go with him. But the ring on my hand and the lingering sweetness of the promise between us took some of the edge off the pain.
I felt like my life was unfolding in front of me. I was thrilled for Michael and the promising future that he had thanks to the program ahead of him. The promising future that we now shared. I knew that his childhood had not been easy for him. He had spent the first few tender years of his life listening to the bitter arguments between his parents. He had told me that it was actually a relief when they finally decided to divorce. Over the years he had many friends come to him broken-hearted because their parents were going through a difficult time or had decided to separate, and he had never been able to really understand why they were so upset about it. He believed that things would be better now that he didn't have to listen to the fighting or try to shield his little sister from it.
Things had gotten better for him, at least during the times that he was able to spend with his father. Andrew had moved on and healed. Within a year of his divorce from Natalie, he had remarried a beautiful, delightful woman I had become very close to in the two years that I had been with Michael. They had two little boys, and when Michael was there in that home with them he felt safe and loved. He felt like he had a family. It wasn't like that when he was at home with his mother. Natalie had begun to unravel in the months before the divorce and it had only gotten worse after. It seemed that the happier and more functional that Andrew was, the worse things became for her. So, she spiraled into darkness and took her children with her. Michael did everything that he could to protect his sister, which meant that he often got the worst of Natalie's rage. I often wondered why he didn't tell his father what he was going through. Maybe Andrew could have saved him.
Now Michael wanted to save himself.
Going into this program was about escaping his past as much as it was about building his future. I knew how excited he was to leave home and embark on this new adventure. He believed in himself more than I had ever seen him, and his aspirations were making him more and more excited and hopeful for the years that lay ahead. Now those years definitely included me. I had never admitted it to him because I didn't want to discourage him or make him feel guilty for wanting to move ahead, but I had always worried that his moving forward would eventually result in our relationship dissolving away. I was staying closer to home to go to college, but he was a year ahead of me which meant that I still had to finish out my senior year before I could even begin my college career. I worried that it wouldn't just be the space between us but also the differences in our experiences and what we were going through that would make it impossible for us to maintain over the years what we had been together. I wasn't afraid of that anymore. I knew now that we were firmly and irrevocably embedded in each other's hearts and that he felt the same deep commitment that I did. He didn't want to leave everything behind. He wanted to bring me with him.
My parents weren't thrilled when they found out about the engagement, but they were happy for me even if they worried that I was far too young to be making that type of decision. I reassured them that I didn't want them to give me permission to marry before I was eighteen, that we would be waiting at least until after I graduated, and that seemed to ease their worries. They had gotten married when they were only nineteen and twenty-two, so I knew that they understood the intensity of our bond and that they knew young marriage could not only work but be amazing. They knew that this was going to change the plans that I had for my future. I couldn't very well stay close to home and go to the university that I had intended to if my husband was hours away, which meant that I needed to start considering schools closer to Michael. I could still study teaching, I reassured them. I could still make sure that I followed the dreams that I had for my future. I would just do them with Michael by my side.
We had very little time to celebrate our engagement before he had to leave. But I thought about Michael every day. He was the first thing that came to mind when I woke up in the morning then the last thing that I thought of each night when I looked through the window
and said goodnight to the moon, remembering one of our first dates when he told me that any time that I missed him I could simply look at the moon and know that no matter where he was, it was the same moon, and it would carry my love to him. Throughout each day I filled notebooks with my thoughts in the form of letters to him. I planned our wedding and I thought about our future. Some of those letters I tore out and mailed to him, others I kept for myself. I mused that one day I would share them with our children and our grandchildren while I told them our love story.
Most of the communication that I had with Michael while he was in his program was through the periodic emails he was able to send me. I knew from before he left that he wasn't going to have consistent access to a computer and that any communication that I received from him would be precious. That's how I looked at every message, no matter how short. Within just a few weeks of him leaving, however, the messages begin to change. I started to notice strange things about them. His sentences started to run together, sometimes sounding as though he had forgotten words or had skipped ahead to something else that he wanted to tell me without finishing his first thought. I did my best to read through each one as carefully as I possibly could, so that I could understand what it was that he wanted to say to me, but it became harder and harder for me to ignore the worried feeling in my stomach, and the voice in the back of my mind that told me something was wrong.
I talked to Andrew about the messages and about the worries that I had. Together we planned to go visit Michael. It would be a wonderful surprise, I told myself. He would be thrilled to see me, and I could ease all of my fears and worries by saying that he was just tired from how hard he was working. Finally, the day came when we arrived at the training facility. Several states away from the primary campus, this facility looked nothing like a college. It looked cold and daunting, and I felt a shiver roll through me as I thought that this was where Michael had been spending all his time for months. It was a family visitation weekend, but Michael hadn't expected that we would be able to come. He knew that I was busy at school and that it would be hard for his father to get time off work. I knew that it hurt him when I told him that I wouldn't be able to come, but that only made me more excited to see him now. I knew he would be so happy and so proud to show us everything that he had accomplished.
I kept telling myself that as Andrew and I roamed the grounds of the facility. All around us families were reuniting. I could see their excitement. I could feel their energy. But we couldn't find Michael. We searched for him everywhere that we could think to look. We attended each of the welcoming activities and ceremonies, scouring the crowds and hoping that we would catch sight of him. Every time that a group passed by me and I didn't see his face, a little bit more of that hope disappeared. I forced the smile to stay on my face, telling myself that as long as I was smiling, as long as I looked positive, everything was going to be alright. I didn't have to admit that I knew that something was terribly wrong.
"Where is he?" Andrew asked. "Where did he go?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "He has to be here somewhere. He didn't mention to me that he was going to be anywhere else this weekend."
"He didn't mention it to me, either."
I nodded, letting out a breath.
"Well, that means that he has to be around here somewhere. We probably just missed him. Remember, he doesn't think that we're here. The other students know that their families are here, so they probably made sure that they were visible. I'm sure that Michael was just in the background somewhere."
Andrew offered me a meager smile.
"You're right. Let's go to his dorm and wait for him."
We walked across the grounds, both of us trying to ignore the happy voices and laughter around us. There was a heaviness over both of us, though neither of us would say anything to the other. When we arrived at the dorm, we approached the desk. A guard looked up at us expectantly.
"Hi," Andrew said. "We're here to visit Michael Long. Could you let us into his room?"
"No," the guard said.
"Oh, well, then could we wait for him here?"
"No, I mean, he's not here. He's been moved out of the dorm."
I saw the color drain out of Andrew's face. His hands touched the edge of the desk and I could see them trembling. I remembered my own shaking that way not long before when Michael knelt in front of me and slipped the diamond onto my finger. I touched the diamond now, trying to feel Michael in it, trying to reassure myself.
"What do you mean he's been moved out of the dorm?" Andrew asked. "He's my son. Why wasn't I informed?"
The guard seemed completely unaffected by Andrew's insistence and I got the impression that this was not the first time that he had dealt with an angry or even panic-stricken parent. This made my stomach sink even further and I took an almost involuntary step closer to Andrew.
"Your son is eighteen, sir. He is an adult. There was no need to inform you of anything."
My eyes closed, and I squeezed my lips together. My mind filled with images of two nights before Michael left for school. A room filled with balloons. Candles creating little points of light in a darkened room. The taste of his kiss blended with the sweetness of the icing. That night we celebrated Michael turning eighteen. It was a milestone that had then seemed like his gateway into adulthood. Now it was the stumbling block that was keeping us from him.
"I understand that my son is eighteen, but he is still my son. If something has happened, I deserve to know about it."
Andrew was getting angrier and his voice was rising. I could see his hands gripping the side of the desk so hard that his knuckles were turning white. A door behind the desk opened and a man who looked several years older than the guard, and who was dressed in a suit rather than a uniform stepped out. He looked at Andrew and me with a disarming expression.
"Good afternoon, sir. Is there something that I could help you with?"
Andrew turned his attention to the man and let out a breath, trying to get himself back under control.
"My son is supposed to be living in this dorm, but this man has just informed me that he no longer lives here. He won't tell me where he is or why he was moved out of the dorm."
"What is your son's name?"
"Michael Long."
The man's face darkened slightly. The next few minutes went past me in a blur. I knew that people were talking, but their words sank into me without voices. I didn't hear them, but I felt them as they seeped into my brain and became my reality. I didn't remember walking out of the dorm or going across the grounds again. The next moment that I was aware of I was sitting in a cold, silent room. The dark blue carpet and floral furniture looked like it had been chosen to bring a friendly, even home-like feeling into the space, but somehow it only worked to make it more imposing and uncomfortable. I was waiting for a doctor to come and talk to us, to explain to us why Michael was in the hospital.
A few seconds later the doctor appeared at the door and stepped just inside. He had only started speaking when something about what he was saying struck me.
"Michael," I said.
"What?" the doctor asked.
"Michael. His name is Michael. You called him Jeff."
The doctor looked at me strangely and glanced down at the chart in his hands.
"It says here, Jeffrey Long."
I nodded.
"Jeffrey Michael Long. He has always gone by Michael."
"Jeffrey was my father's name," Andrew said. "I named him after him, but I never intended him to be called that. He's only ever been called Michael."
"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "I didn't know."
"You didn't know?" I asked. "How can you be treating him and not know what people call him?"
The doctor looked at me with a still-expressionless face.
"When Jeff came in--"
"Michael."
He gave a single nod.
"I'm sorry. Yes. Michael. When Michael came
in, he wasn't in any condition to speak to us. He couldn't communicate. We only had his identification card to go by, and that has his legal name on it."
"He hasn't corrected you?"
"No. He is still having only periods of lucidity."
I knew what that meant. I knew that the diagnosis they had said when we came in meant that the future he had planned was now tattered.
Just then a woman in scrubs appeared at the door, followed closely by Michael. He was wearing a sweatsuit and though I could still see him, the person he really was, he no longer looked like him. He gazed at his father and then at me, then back at his father. For a few seconds, he didn't seem to know why he was there.
"Your sister is here," the nurse said leadingly, gesturing at me.
"I'm not his sister," I said through gritted teeth. I stood, taking a step toward him. "I'm his fiancée."
The nurse looked embarrassed, but Michael's eyes brightened slightly.
"Gwendolyn," he said, his voice powdery as though he hadn't used it recently.
I closed the space between us and he took me in his arms. I felt myself melting into him, closing my eyes and pretending that nothing had changed, that all of this wasn't really happening. I stepped out of the embrace and started to lean to kiss him, but Michael turned to look at the nurse.
"I told you that she was here. You said she wasn't."
"What?" I said. "What do you mean?"
"I heard you last night. You were singing in the hallway outside my room, but when I came out to see you, you weren't there. I tried to find you, but they said that you weren't even here."
I shook my head.
"I wasn't here last night," I told him. "I just got here this morning."
Michael glared at me angrily.
"No," he said. "I heard you. Why are you lying?"