by Sky Corgan
“Oh darn.” She straightens, placing her hands on her hips.
“What?” Kit looks at her.
“I'm almost out of bread.” Flora turns to face us. “Would you be a dear and go to the store to pick some up for me?”
How could he say no when she's looking at him like that? It's the classic you-have-no-choice face that mothers typically use when a request isn't optional. I have to stifle a giggle. They're adorable together.
“Of course,” Kit replies without hesitation, scooting his chair back to stand. I start to get up too, but he stops me. “Would you mind if Ivy stays here? I'd like the two of you to get to know each other.”
“Oh?” Flora sounds surprised again.
“Yeah. This one is kind of special to me.” He winks at me, making butterflies take flight in my stomach.
“Oh!” She beams. “Oh. Wow. So it's like that, is it?”
My cheeks grow hot. Is this really such a big deal?
“Yeah, it's like that.” Kit smirks. “Gotta let my best girls get to know one another,” he says before grabbing his keys and heading for the door.
Flora waits until Kit is gone before pouring us each a glass of iced tea and sitting across from me. “Well, start dishing,” she says like a high schooler waiting for gossip. “It's been so long since Kit's dated anyone that I was beginning to think he'd turned gay.”
“Really?” I chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Wow, she's a different kind of intense than Kit.
“How did the two of you really meet?”
I tell her my story, and she oohs and ahs over my ordeal. I explain how Kit found me and has been taking care of me ever since, making sure to leave out the more explicit details.
“We just clicked,” I say, though it's not exactly true. Clicking took a little while. I never imagined it would happen when we first met. But I'm glad it did. I couldn't be happier.
“I'm glad.” She relaxes back in her chair, clutching her cup with both hands. “To be honest, I was worried when he told me he was going out to the cabin.”
“Why's that?” I ask with interest.
“It's just...” She shakes her head, her smile faltering. “I don't know how much you know about Kit—what he's been through. It's just...not normal.”
“Not normal?” I parrot.
“I didn't think he was going to come back,” her words are solemn.
Not come back, I think. My mind goes to the IV on its stand. The backpack full of more pills than any one person could ever need. Kit had said that the IV was there in case he had a hangover. But there was no alcohol anywhere in the cabin. Also, he needed to get fluids into me after the hypothermia. If that's all that was in that IV, I'm sure he would have used it on me. The needle was out and exposed. It had been opened and was ready.
I feel like someone just punched me in the chest. Despair and sadness the likes of which I've never felt before grip me. That IV wasn't there for fluids, I realize. Was he trying to...?
“I'm back.” The door swings open.
Kit has a bag hanging off of one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other. I do my best to force a smile, to not seem disturbed by what I just learned—what I don't even want to think about might have happened if I hadn't shown up at the cabin when I did.
“These are for you,” he tells me, handing the bouquet over. It's extravagant, two dozen red roses. I should be elated that he thought to do something so sweet, but my sadness is overriding my ability to appreciate the moment. Thankfully, his eyes don't linger on me for long as he hands the bag to his mother. “Did you girls have fun while I was away?”
“We had a nice talk.” Flora nods, though I can tell she's still thinking about what she told me, too. Kit seems oblivious to the heaviness in the room. It only takes Flora a second to snap back into cheerful mode. I hope that I can act just as well.
“Now I can make us sandwiches,” she says as if it's the most exciting thing ever. “Any requests, dear? Omissions? I'm just going to make plain ole turkey and swiss. I hope that's okay with you.”
“That's fine.” I force a smile. “I'm not really picky.” Even less picky since I've come off the trail.
We make casual conversation while Flora fixes us lunch. Well, they make casual conversation. I barely speak, mulling things over. I have such a love for life that I can't even imagine getting to the point that I'd want it to end prematurely. I know that I've never experienced even a fraction of the suffering that Kit has, though. My life has been sheltered and pampered. I'm incredibly blessed.
As I stare at Kit while he converses with his mother, it doesn't look like there's anything wrong with him at all. He seems happy. Like a normal guy. Not the same as he was in the cabin, I realize. But that's because he was on the edge there. A man hanging onto the end of a rope about to let go. I have to fight back tears as I think about it. If those wolves hadn't attacked me right in front of his cabin, he'd probably be dead right now. An amazing soul snuffed from existence because of what...I want to know. I want to know what could possibly be so bad that he thinks the world would be better off without him. Because whatever the reason is, it's a lie.
Flora does her best to occupy Kit's attention. I think she can tell I'm not okay. Every time she glances at me, she looks concerned. Maybe she's worried that she ruined Kit's chance at a relationship, but that's not true. I'm not deterred from wanting to be with him. I just want to know everything that drove him to the point that he thought it was okay to kill himself. More than that, I want to know that he's going to be all right.
We finish eating and say our goodbyes. I hug Flora tightly, whispering in her ear, “He's going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of it.” And I mean it.
She smiles softly at me, appreciation on her face. “You're a gem.” Flora caresses my cheek before glancing over at Kit. “Don't let this one get away.”
“I won't,” he assures her.
The two of them embrace, and then we take off back to the jeep. There's no good time to have this conversation, and I know it will eat me alive if I wait too long. As it is, the anticipation is sitting in my belly like a boulder, heavy and uncomfortable. I need to get this out.
Kit pulls onto the highway, and I wrap my arms around myself for comfort, because what I have to say next definitely isn't going to be enjoyable for either of us. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KIT
Historically speaking, nothing good has ever come out of a woman's mouth after the words we need to talk. Just the sound of it with that serious inflection makes my entire body tense up. It's like I just got caught with my hand in a cookie jar.
My mother must have said something to Ivy while I was away. Maybe leaving them alone together wasn't such a good idea after all. No doubt, it has something to do with my depression. I wouldn't think that my mother would try to ward a woman away from me, especially when I've been without one for so long. I'm pretty sure she's team Kit all the way. But whatever she said, it obviously had some profound effect on Ivy. All I can hope is that this isn't the beginning of the end.
“Okay,” I reply hesitantly, knowing I'm about to be in for an earful.
“There was no alcohol at the cabin,” Ivy says plainly.
“What?” Where did that even come from?
“You said that the IV was there in case you had a hangover. But there was no alcohol at the cabin, which means you weren't there to drink.” She hugs herself tighter.
“It was in my bag,” I lie. She doesn't need to know the truth. The truth would just scare her off.
“I looked in your bag,” she confesses softly.
“What?” I glance over at her with a flash of anger. “What were you doing looking through my stuff?”
“I told you I got a painkiller out, remember?” She holds my gaze, unapologetic. “I saw all of the pills. And no alcohol. Were you...” her voice trails off. “Did you go to the cabin to...”
I tear my hand through my hair. Fuck. She knows
.
“That's none of your business,” I bark, just wanting the conversation to end.
She turns so that she's facing me. “It is my business if we're going to be together. I want to know what happened to you. What brought you to that point?”
My mind is racing, and nothing that's going on inside of it is pleasant. I know I can't hide from her. We're trapped in the car together.
“I don't want to talk about it,” I say finally.
“Well, that's too bad, because we're going to talk about it,” she insists.
A surge of mixed emotions hits me, making my entire body physically ache. Anger. Depression. The feeling that I'm losing everything all over again. Loss and loss and more loss. The feeling is so familiar, but it hasn't been this fresh in a while. Why can't she just drop the subject? Is it really that important?
Yes. It is. Because now she knows that if she would have shown up at the cabin just a few minutes later, we'd both be dead. Or maybe she doesn't know that but suspects it. Thinks that if I had committed suicide, I would have let her down. She didn't even know me, but I would have let her down.
I open my mouth, unsure of what to say. I want to scream, but that will do more harm than good. So instead, I start gushing. I tell her everything she wants to hear, knowing that I'll lose her afterward. Knowing that it's right for me to lose her. “I was a combat medic. I told you that before. Do you have any idea what a combat medic does?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“They watch people die,” I reply bluntly. “In the wrong situation, you watch your friends bleed, looking up at you, begging for you to save them. And when things are really bad, you can't. You watch this over and over again until it's all you can see when you close your eyes. Their faces. Their grieving families. You feel responsible because it was your job to save them but you couldn't. You carry that regret and grief with you everywhere you go like a suffocating chain around your body that never lets go. It never leaves you. Not when you're awake. Not when you're asleep.
“The backfire of a car becomes gunshots. Blood that you might see on the television is the blood of your friends. Your mind warps everyday things that most people don't even notice into something horrible. And there's no fixing it.
“I watched my brother get blown to pieces right in front of me. So many pieces that there was no putting him back together. They couldn't even have an open casket. These are the things I see when I sleep. Every night for the past two years.
“I wake up screaming most nights—the nights that I'm lucky enough to actually rouse myself from the nightmares. But the memories don't fade even when I'm awake. I think about them over and over again. Do you have any idea what it's like to go through that every day of your life?” my voice is all aggression by the time I'm done talking, and I'm completely out of breath.
“No,” she says sadly. “Kit, I'm so so sorry. I didn't know. How could I have possibly known?”
“Well, now you know.” I jerk the jeep away from my apartment and head towards the airport.
I was wrong to think that this girl could save me. That I can protect her when I'm still so broken. She deserves someone better. Someone closer to her own age who is mentally stable. That's not me. The best thing I can do for her is to let her go. One last selfless act. And then I can get back to what needs to be done. What's never been more clear to me than it is right now. I'll never have peace. Not in this life. I don't deserve peace for everything that I've failed at. Failed as a combat medic. Failed as a brother. Failed as a son. Failed as a human being. My world is darkness, and I just need an end to it.
I press the pedal to the floor, just wanting to be alone. Ivy sinks into her seat, speechless. What more could possibly be said? I know she wants to get away from me, and I can't blame her.
“You know, it wasn't your fault. None of it,” she comments softly.
“But it was. You weren't there.” I cut her off. It was all my fault. If I had just been better at my job. More observant during that time with my brother. If I had chosen another career, none of this would have happened. We'd both be alive and blissfully ignorant of the horrors of the world.
I turn down the street that leads to the airport, and Ivy comes to life in the seat beside me. Her arms fall from their protective grip, and her eyes dance outside the window. “Where are we going? I thought we were going back to your apartment.”
“I'm taking you to the airport,” I inform her.
“Why?” She finally looks at me.
“Because it's time for you to go home.” I can't even glance at her as I say it.
“But I'm not ready to go home yet,” her words come out in a rush.
I park in an empty space in front of one of the terminals where passengers are being unloaded. She seems frozen in place, not wanting to move. “Ivy, you need to go home. We both know you can't stay here.”
She blows out a breath. “This isn't what I want.”
“Life isn't about what we want.” It's a lesson she obviously hasn't learned yet. One I know all too well.
“You're wrong, Kit.” She shakes her head at me. “Life is what we make of it.”
“Get out.” I'm done humoring her. This is over. She's too young to see the way the world actually is. There's no point in trying to convince her. It's something she'll have to learn on her own someday.
Ivy reaches for the door handle and hesitates. She turns back to me, but her eyes don't reach mine. “I really like you, you know. I want to know you're going to be all right. You never even gave me your phone number.”
“Have a safe flight,” I tell her, wringing my hands around the steering wheel. My heart feels like it's caught in a vice grip. This is the last time I'm going to see her. My happiness is slipping away, and I can't even stop it because my mind is in such turmoil.
I know I'm doing the right thing. But why does it feel so wrong?
I watch in my peripheral vision as a tear slides down her cheek. My fingers itch to embrace her, to soothe her pain and make everything better. I could fix this if I wanted to, but then where would we be. I'd still be broken, and she'd still deserve better. This is how things have to be.
No more words are spoken as she climbs out of my jeep and closes the door. I put the jeep in drive and speed off, not even wanting to know if she ever looked back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IVY
What just happened? I'm still having a hard time processing it all. We were just supposed to talk. Now I'm standing in front of a terminal. Alone.
I'm not sure what hurt more, Kit telling me I needed to leave or speeding off like he couldn't wait to be rid of me. All I know is that I left my heart back in his jeep. It feels pulled from my body, getting further and further away. I guess this is heartbreak.
It takes everything in me not to burst out into wailing sobs as I borrow a phone from a stranger to call my mother and tell her I need a plane ticket back home. She knows I'm not alright, but I keep insisting that I'm fine—that I'm just homesick. She buys the lie, coddling me.
I walk through the airport like a ghost. I'm physically there, but my mind is back at the cabin. I'm seeing all the things I missed before. I know why I was a burden to Kit now.
I wonder if he drove straight back to the cabin to finish the job after he dropped me off. Tears spill down my cheeks just thinking about it. Kit sitting there with that needle in his arm, staring out into empty space, just wanting a release from it all. Will he even think of me when he's doing it? Or will he only see the things he thinks he's failed at? People he couldn't save?
I'm sure it wasn't his fault. Some injuries are so severe that only a miracle could save the person. Knowing what little I do of his personality, I doubt Kit was ever negligent. I doubt he didn't go above and beyond to save his comrades. If there's one thing I've learned about him over these past few days, it's that he has a good heart. He cares, and he takes saving the lives of people seriously. Not once did I feel uncomfortable under his gaze, even when
I was naked and vulnerable. Because his mind wasn't anywhere near the things that I was thinking of, even in all my pain and confusion. All he cared about was saving my life.
Kit's death would be a great loss to the world. I don't understand why he doesn't see that. Why he's so blinded by his own grief that he doesn't see what he has yet to offer to the world by staying alive. What he has yet to offer to me. I love him. I want him to be okay. The thought of getting on a plane and forever not knowing what happened to him...
I brush the tears from my cheeks as I sit in front of the gate where my plane will be landing. This is what Kit wanted, for me to return home and lead a normal life. It's not like I don't understand why he pushed me away. There are things going on with him that I can't hope to comprehend. He's incredibly selfless, so I'm sure he knows that me being with him would be hard on me. From what I can tell, he's used to putting others before himself. And that's part of what I love about him.
I stare out the window, knowing he's out there somewhere. Wondering what he's doing. He couldn't have made it back to the cabin already, so I know he's still alive. I find some solace in that, thinking about his heartbeat as I laid against him. It was so soothing. A reminder that I was safe.
He's not safe right now. Anything but. How long does he have left? Minutes? Hours? There's no doubt in my mind that he's going to follow through with it.
A knot builds in my throat with each passing moment. I'm anxious and depressed and a million other emotions I never thought I'd experience on this trip. So many unexpected things have happened to me. I came out here seeking adventure and ended up having a plethora of eye-opening experiences. When I return home, I'll be forever changed. But there's still such a great pull for me to stay.
As I watch my plane roll in, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Kit wants me to leave, but it doesn't feel right. I think about all the people he's probably saved. The ones he's forgotten about because he can only remember the ones he's lost. He saved me. Now he's the one who needs saving.