Since You've Been Gone

by Allan, Christa

He suddenly looked like someone who’d been keeping a secret so long he was ready to explode. His voice was as animated as his face. “After I started working at the club, golfers would come into the pro shop and buy new putters, drivers, and irons or want to get fitted for an entire new set of clubs. Sometimes they would just give me their old clubs, and others used to joke about how many they stashed in their closets or garages. It just seemed such a waste, especially considering how much they cost.”

  “Expensive?”

  “A new set could cost at least a thousand dollars,” he said.

  “Yep. That’s a bundle to pay for iron sticks to whack those little white balls across grass.”

  “Funny.”

  I smiled so he’d know I’d meant it to be.

  “Anyway, I searched online for places where I could donate them, and I tripped across programs that were bringing the game to inner-city kids. What really caught my attention wasn’t so much that the kids were learning golf. These programs taught them not just etiquette, behavior, and manners about the game, but promoted academics, respect, and good conduct in their daily lives. I mentioned this to some of our members, and one gave me the name of his minister. I called him, explained what I wanted to do, and by the next Sunday, I had a group.”

  “As much as it pains me to compliment you and risk ego inflation, you’re great with those kids. You joked with them, but they knew when to tighten up. You were patient, but I noticed when Darrell started practicing his dance moves, you called him out in a way that was assertive without being angry or annoyed. They respect you.”

  Evan didn’t say anything at first, just nodded. He glanced at me, then said, “Thanks. I appreciate that. I want so much for those kids to succeed. I’d teach them every week if I could. But getting away on a Sunday at the club is challenging. Until they hire a full-time assistant, I’ll only be able to go every other weekend.”

  When we reached my parents’ house, I asked him if he wanted to come inside. “Should be safe with my them by now,” I joked.

  “Maybe another time? I desperately need a shower, and I wanted to check in with Roy at the club to make sure everything is going well.”

  I handed him the hat he had lent me, but all he did was put it back on my head again. “That’s yours. I don’t do pink hats. Pink shirt, yes. Hat, no.”

  “Thanks for the lunch, the hat, saving me from my fashion disaster, and introducing me to the boys.”

  “You’re the first person I’ve ever taken to one of their lessons. So if you don’t come back, they might think you didn’t like being there with them,” he said, but with a touch of amusement in his voice.

  “Well, maybe you could convince them that it’s you I didn’t want to be there with.”

  I meant to sound witty, but the expression on Evan’s face told me I hadn’t succeeded. It was as if I had slapped him in the face. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he shook his head.

  “Evan, I was kidding. Really, I was. I feel so bad. Like I want to tell myself to go away because I don’t want to be with me.” I reached for his hands, holding on to them, wishing he felt my apology seeping through my skin. “I’m so sorry.”

  I let go of his hands. His eyes scanned my face, probing, perhaps, for the truth.

  “You’ve been kind to me, and I always have a good time when we’re together. I would never purposely hurt you.”

  “I know, Livvy. I know.” He tugged the beak of my hat and offered me a smile, one so slight that it was as if he had to ration them. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I waved as he backed out of the driveway and didn’t turn to walk into the house until his car disappeared around the corner.

  CHAPTER 44

  That was some long lunch.”

  My dad’s voice reached me as I closed the door. He grinned, so I knew I wasn’t going to hear, “We almost called the police, the hospital . . .”

  The back door was open, and my mother walked inside. “Are those new?” She pointed to my blouse and shorts with her cane.

  “Hi, Mom. Good to see you, too.” I’d already put my hat in the bag with my other clothes, so she couldn’t comment on that. “Yes. We were outside almost the entire time, and the maxi dress I wore wasn’t made for a picnic. Evan and I went to Nordstrom so I could find something cooler to wear that actually fit me.”

  Her Richter scale of surprise shot to an eight. “Wow. He didn’t mind taking you shopping?” She walked to the kitchen where my father handed her a glass of wine.

  “It was his idea,” I said. And you forgot to pay him, so now you have a reason to call and apologize once again for your verbal slam.

  My parents looked at each other, exchanging those glances again.

  “Do you think it’s appropriate to be spending this much time with Evan?” My mother stared at me over the rim of her glass.

  “Why? Do you think it’s inappropriate?”

  That wasn’t the answer she expected, I supposed, because she looked at my father.

  She set her glass on the island. “Your father and I are concerned about your being especially vulnerable right now, so soon after Wyatt’s death. We don’t want you to misinterpret Evan’s attention. And, honey, you’re pregnant and being seen with a single man who’s not even the child’s father.”

  “If Evan and I were having wild sex, which we definitely are not, you could find some comfort in the fact that at least I couldn’t get pregnant again. Evan and I are friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S. He’s recovering from a relationship, and I’m . . . I’m . . . I don’t even know anymore with everything and nothing going on in my life. Evan and I dated what seems like a lifetime ago. And neither one of us cares what assumptions people are making or what opinions other people have.”

  My mother refilled her wineglass, replacing the cork with excruciating slowness, diffusing the immediacy of my response. “It’s your life. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Scarlett, Livvy isn’t acting reckless,” my father said, placing his hand over my mother’s. “She’s not shopping for a husband with Evan because he’s already taken himself off the shelf. He’s already told me he’s not looking for a relationship. He might not even stay at the club if he decides that’s not the future he wants. We need to leave the two of them alone.”

  “Where’s he going?” He never mentioned leaving to me. Tired of shifting from one leg to the other as I stood during this inquisition, I slid myself into the recliner.

  “He didn’t say specifically, and I don’t think he knows himself right now.” My father held my mother’s elbow, steered her to her chair, then sat on the sofa. “Evan and I talked during our game, and he said he’s staying open to however he feels led.” He shrugged. “I didn’t expect him to be a golf pro forever. The club needed someone fast, and he needed somewhere to go. It worked out. For now.”

  “And aren’t you planning to go back to Houston? If you and Evan are just friends, why would it bother you that he could be moving?” my mother said.

  I heard the undercurrent of cynicism, the one she used to suck me under and cause me to drown in my own confusion.

  “I don’t remember saying it bothered me.” I didn’t have to verbalize it, though. My expression spoke for me. And she wanted me to know that she knew it, too.

  “If I’ve learned anything these past few months, it’s that my plans aren’t irrevocable. Who knows? Things could change . . . I could change,” I said with what I hoped was an airy and casual tone. “I’m going to rest. Being out in the sun burned off my energy.”

  “We’re going to eat seafood later. Why don’t you join us?” My dad, ever the optimistic peacemaker.

  “Sounds great, but it’s been a long day. I’m always open to leftovers, though,” I said. Before going to my room, I kissed them each on the forehead. Displays of affection rankled my mother when she considered being right more important than doing right. Small of me, but I learned the passive-
aggressive game well. She proved to be an excellent teacher.

  I woke up with the bitter leftovers of my comment to Evan, and I resolved to make it right. But he didn’t answer his phone when I called him on my way to work, and I ended up leaving one of those voicemails that sounded as if I’d only learned to connect words the day before. Maybe that would amuse him or provide ammunition for him. As long as he called, I didn’t care which one it was.

  Laura called me a few hours later and told me she saw an envelope addressed to me, and she would leave it on my dresser. “Unless there’s something else you want me to do with it. I have to leave early today, so I won’t be here when you get home.”

  “Is it a plain white envelope with no return address?” I’d be either disappointed or distraught, but I wasn’t sure which one I’d rather feel.

  I remembered Mia telling me that when she didn’t know what to pray for, she trusted God would know her heart. I always thought that was a sly way of making God the fall guy if the choice ended up being one you regretted.

  When Laura answered yes, I thought about leaving the office then, because focusing on anything else would be almost impossible. But my father still had two more appointments and someone coming in to pick up a new policy.

  Two more hours. One hundred twenty lifetimes.

  I couldn’t make myself sit at the computer. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert. When Dad walked out of his office minutes later, he found me with a spray can of cleaner in one hand and a wad of folded paper towels in the other. I must have looked like I was practicing for a clean-off. I’d already finished lemonizing everything in the reception area. My desk was next.

  “I usually try never to interrupt a woman, especially when she’s cleaning, but I have a favor to ask. Your mother just told me that Laura has to leave early today. She said she’d be fine by herself, but I’d feel much better if someone was there with her, and your grandmother’s not back from her trip yet. Could you leave here in about fifteen minutes and go spell Laura?”

  “Of course, no problem. Glad to help,” I said with an overdose of enthusiasm.

  Maybe too much, because my dad tilted his head and squinted as if he were trying to focus to assure himself that he had been talking to his real daughter. “Okay, then,” he said cautiously, probably still trying to understand my willingness to spend time with my mother. “I’ll let your mom know you’ll be there.”

  I’d been hesitant to approach my father about what I wanted, then he gave it to me anyway. It was a coincidence that felt like a gift.

  My grandmother didn’t believe in coincidences. She called them God-incidences. “Now, I don’t want you to go expecting that God swoops in like Superman and makes all these things happen. Sometimes he just brings people and things together in ways that work out to make these things happen. Sort of like an orchestra provides these beautiful sounds because they have someone bringing them all together and making the timing work.”

  Maybe God had decided I’d been punished enough. Maybe this was the beginning of all those blessings my grandmother reminded me I was missing by ignoring God in my life. Maybe there was something to this God thing.

  CHAPTER 45

  Laura had already left, and there was a note from my mother informing me she was taking a nap and to make sure she woke up in an hour.

  I didn’t have to open the envelope on my dresser to know it was another letter from Wyatt.

  What motivated someone who used to joke about his atrocious spelling to write letters?

  Usually people who suspected they were going to die wrote letters to their families, like so many hostages did, or someone diagnosed with a fatal illness. Wyatt wasn’t either one of those, but what was left terrified me. Almost always, people who intended to commit suicide left notes behind.

  What a ridiculous thought. Who would buy someone a gift never knowing if it would arrive?

  Without answers, anything seemed possible. But not suicide. Not that.

  And if this is one of those God-incidences, then who’s conducting this orchestra? How was I supposed to play without the music in front of me?

  How is it that right now I wanted to pummel Wyatt until my hands were numb and wrap myself around him at the same time?

  I closed my bedroom door, propped a pillow against my headboard, and opened the envelope.

  Dear Olivia,

  The more time we spend together, the more grateful I am that you are in my life.

  I admire you for working so hard during college to earn your degrees, for pursuing what you want and having goals and dreams, and now some of them include me.

  Because of your belief and faith in me, I’m finding the courage to go after what I want. To be the kind of husband you deserve, and the father that, one day, our children will look up to.

  I want to be a better person because of you.

  I don’t ever want to lose you. I would be devastated.

  I crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor. I buried my face in my pillow, not to sob, but to scream. Until my lungs begged me to stop, my throat seared from the flames that all my words ignited. Except that I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

  What is the point of this, Wyatt? Why did you write these? And why did you give them to someone else?

  I couldn’t do this alone. I called Mia.

  “Livvy, this is so crazy,” she said, not even bothering with hello. “There’s been an accident on the loop, and I’ve been stuck in this traffic for thirty minutes already. I was just about to call you. We haven’t talked in ages, and I want to hear all about what’s going on, and I’ll fill you in on how the nanny and Lily are doing—”

  “Mia, stop. I have a lot to tell you. I’m going to need you to listen all the way through before you start asking questions.”

  “You sound awful. What’s happened? Is something wrong with your mom? Are you okay? The baby okay? Do you need me to be there with you? I can get a flight tonight if you need me to—”

  “You’ve already asked me five questions, and I haven’t even started.” I shook my head, smiled in reaction to Mia’s impulsive inability to listen. “And I don’t have much time to talk.”

  I started with Evan. Leaving the law practice, the broken engagement, and our non-dates. I told her about the awkwardness the last time we were together, and the guilt trip I hadn’t had a vacation from since that day. “So proud of you. I know how difficult it is for you not to speak. I only have one more story.”

  I smoothed out the letter I’d scrunched up earlier, and I read both of the letters to her, explaining how and when I’d received them.

  “Thank God, this traffic is finally moving, and there are no drive-through daiquiri shops in Houston. After hearing all that, I’d need a gallon to go. My brain is on overdrive trying to process everything you’ve told me.”

  “I hired that private investigator. Do you think I need to take these letters to him?”

  “Excuse my teenaged response, but, duh . . . of course you do. Why didn’t you take the first one? Never mind, don’t answer that. This letter business is creepy, Livvy, creepy. I don’t think God has angel mail carriers delivering letters from dead people. Maybe there were things about Wyatt none of us knew. All I know is you have to turn those letters over to that man, and as soon as your mother can move around on her own, you need to move back here. Away from voodoo-hoodoo land.”

  “Unfortunately, her recovery is more involved than I expected. I’m not sure how much longer it will be until she can return to the office to actually be of help. And the more time I spend here, the more time I spend with Evan, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’s hardly the same person he was in college. And I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he’s become this magnetically attractive man. He’s generous, funny, and . . .” I wasn’t sure about adding sexy.

  “And he’s maybe not staying there? If he does, where do you see this going? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, because I know he’s calling these out
ings ‘dates,’ but will he still want to keep ‘dating’ when you’re nine months pregnant? Would he even envision himself being a father to this baby, or is he just going to be Uncle Evan?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t played this whole thing out, but I’m very much aware that being around Evan makes my pregnancy hormones think they’re at Disney World, and they’re not patient waiting for the gate to open.”

  She laughed. “That hormonal surge was one of Bryce’s top three things he loved about my being pregnant. The other two were feeling Lily kick him when we spooned in bed and coming home to a clean house when my nesting kicked in.”

  “My mother is expecting me to wake her up in three minutes. She’s probably already awake, and setting her stopwatch to see if I’ll be on time. Please tell Lily I will talk to her soon. Thank you, Mia. I don’t want to know what I would do without you.”

  “I love you, too, Olivia. Now go love yourself enough to take control of all these things happening in your life.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Tell me we’re auditioning for a new reality show, ‘How to Embarrass Your Daughter,’ because if we aren’t, we should be.” My father was clearly losing his mind.

  “Come on, honey. What else are you doing? You’ve had a few outings with Evan, but it’d be good for you to learn a sport. Get some exercise, enjoy being outside,” he said, mostly talking to the wall he was measuring. “Besides, your mom can’t play, and I’d love the company.”

  I was helping him hang pictures, the ones that had led to my mother using a step stool she’d tripped over, which had led to her surgery. My father told her that was the most expensive artwork they’d ever purchased.

  While she pointed her cane to places she wanted the paintings, I followed my father around with the jar of picture hangers and the hammer and measuring tape. “Wise move waiting until you were holding the hammer to announce you’d signed me up for golf lessons.”

  “He wouldn’t listen when I suggested he talk to you first,” said my mother, who never held back from a head-shaking I-told-you-so opportunity. “He said you wouldn’t mind because Evan would be teaching you.”