The Day He Went Away

by Millikin, Jennifer

  It's because I've been playing chase with an elusive, ephemeral dream. A few months ago, all it took was a couple glasses of wine, a fountain of tears, and there he was. But not this week. Or last week. Not once since the night I fell on Camelback.

  “Good.” Sarah looks relieved.

  I look back at my computer screen, the cursor blinking right where I left it before I answered Nick's call. “Let me finish this email.”

  “Meet me in the lobby.” Sarah leaves my desk.

  I nod, already typing my response to a client who needs to publicly respond to salmonella found at one of their factories. I'm going to work on your apology and corrective action statement. Expect an official statement by EOB.

  I grab my purse from my desk drawer and hurry to meet Sarah.

  ***

  I’m on my knees peering into a kitchen cabinet when Nick knocks.

  Standing, I shake out my hair, which I know is wild from my search efforts.

  I pull back the door. “Hi.”

  Nick smiles, a brown paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of sunflowers in the other. He holds out the flowers.

  “These are for you, obviously.”

  I take them, staring at the soft yellow petals. “These are beautiful. Did Ethan tell you sunflowers are my favorite?” I step away from the door, and Nick walks in.

  “You have a picture of a field of sunflowers on your dresser mirror. I made the leap.”

  I follow him to the kitchen, where he sets the bag on the counter.

  “Thank you.” I pull a vase from under the sink and set it in the basin.

  “You're welcome. How was your day?” He pulls items from the bag. Arborio rice, mushrooms, peas, chicken stock, red wine.

  I get out two wine glasses, then turn on the water and push the vase into the stream. “It was good.” I don't plan on telling him about my tardiness at work. My Ethan dreams, and how I attempt to obtain them, are my little secret. “How about you?”

  “After I talked to you, we responded to a bad car accident.” He rubs his forehead, like he’s trying to scrub away the memory. “All because a young girl was texting her mom.”

  My mouth drops open. “That's terrible. Is she going to be okay?”

  He drops his hand and sighs. “I don't know. I did what I could do for her.”

  “I'm sorry. That must be really hard to handle.”

  “It is. But it's what I want to do. Eventually I'll be the doctor who stitches these people up.” He winks at me, trying to lighten the somber mood.

  “Do you want to go into emergency medicine?”

  He nods as he folds the paper bag. “I think I'm good under pressure and…”

  He cuts off abruptly and reaches past me to shut off the running water.

  I turn around to the sink and see the vase is full of water and the sunflowers are floating in the basin.

  “Oops.” I make a face.

  He laughs. “Are you sure you can be trusted in the kitchen? Maybe Evie doesn't know what she's talking about.”

  I really don't know if I can be trusted or not. My limbs don't feel like they work the same anymore.

  “I guess we'll have to see.” My voice is small. I dump half the water out of the vase and add the flowers.

  Nick touches my elbow. “Hey, I'm sorry. I was joking. Evie said you're an amazing cook.”

  Drying my hands on a dish towel, I meet his apologetic gaze. “It's okay. I haven't cooked since Ethan… You know.” I swallow hard. “And I can't find my deep saucepan or my favorite bamboo spatula. I don't know what Harper's been doing in here, but she doesn't put stuff back where it goes.” I'm talking fast, and my throat constricts.

  Nick opens the bottle of wine he brought and hands me a glass. “Here. I think you need to relax a little. We'll find that stuff.”

  I take it and sip.

  Nick pours himself a glass. “Ready to cook?”

  I hold out my hand, palm up. “Recipe?”

  He shakes his head. “No recipe.”

  My eyebrows pinch. “Nick, this is cooking. We need a recipe.”

  “Do you already know how to make risotto?”

  Slowly I nod. What is he getting at?

  “Then you don't need a recipe. Trust yourself.”

  I take a deep breath. Cook dinner without a recipe? I've never done that.

  “You know I could just get my phone and grab a recipe from the Internet in ten seconds, right?”

  Nick smirks. “Consider this a challenge. Can you cook without following a recipe?” He extends a hand.

  My lips twist as I consider. Recipes are like rules. And I've always liked rules. You followed the rules and tried not to fall in love with your best friend, and look where that got you. And him.

  “Challenge accepted.” I shake Nick's hand.

  He smiles. “Let's begin.”

  ***

  “Best. Risotto. Ever.” Nick nearly groans the words as he puts another bite in his mouth.

  I take the spoon from his hand before he can take more from the pan. “No more double-dipping.”

  I'm serving up two portions when the front door opens.

  Harper steps in, sees me and Nick, and her eyes grow wide. Slowly she walks to the entry table and deposits her purse and keys. Her surprised eyes never leave me.

  “Kate, are you cooking?” she asks, astonished.

  I put down the pan and grab another bowl. “Do you want some?”

  Harper walks over and peers into the pan.

  “It's good,” Nick vouches. “I promise. I tried it.”

  She inhales. “Of course it's good. This is Kate Masters we're talking about.”

  Nick's eyebrows pull together in confusion, and he looks at me. I roll my eyes. The last thing I need is Nick believing the same tired thing everyone else believes. And it's so far from the truth. What if they all knew? Perfect little Kate Masters, Master of Everything, drinks herself to sleep every night in hopes of conjuring up her late boyfriend.

  “Yes, I want some.” Harper shoots a smile at Nick. “I'm starving. I had to go to a cocktail reception for a company I planned an event for last year. Hors d'oeuvres can only get a person so far.”

  I spoon some into the third bowl and hand it to her. Nick pours her a glass of wine, and we sit at the table.

  After we've each had seconds and the bottle of wine is gone, Harper sits back and sighs.

  “Kate, I've missed your cooking. Does this mean you're going to go back to Old Kate? I really miss her.”

  I blink at Harper's beautiful face. How could I ever go back to my old self? I’ve been ripped to shreds by a cruel monster named Fate.

  “Did you know Kate made this without following a recipe?” Nick glances at me. “Have you always been this talented in the kitchen?”

  “Yes.” Harper answers for me. “Kate's good at everything. She was excellent at it since the moment she decided she wanted to learn. Ethan was only too happy to be her taste tester. Until I moved in and took over the job.” Harper and Nick laugh.

  My breath sticks in my chest. Pain slices across my heart. I don’t want to remember, but I do. Ethan sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, greedily demanding more of whatever I made. Damn it, this hurts. This is why I’ve stayed numb for so long. Why is my numbness fading?

  Nick watches me, but Harper’s still talking.

  “You okay?” he mouths.

  I smile and nod. What can I say?

  Just when I'm starting to wonder if this is going to be a long night, Harper announces her exit.

  “Well, this has been fun. I’m going to be rude and leave without helping with the dishes. I’m meeting someone for a drink.” She stands and goes to her room.

  I look at Nick and shrug. “She doesn’t spend much time at home. She’s very outgoing.”

  “I gathered that.”

  Is that disappointment I hear, or am I imagining it? Please let me be imagining it. She would not be good for him.

  Harper sails back
through to say goodbye. She’s wearing a blazer and a skirt. A very short skirt.

  “Don’t wait up for me.”

  “I’m going to bed early tonight. I need to get to work on time tomorrow,” I say to her disappearing back.

  Nick squints like he's studying me.

  “You mean you’ve been having trouble getting there on time?”

  I reach across the table and stack our empty bowls. Loudly. “That is not what I said.”

  The front door closes. I feel his eyes on me.

  “Why aren't you getting there on time?”

  He takes the stack of bowls from me and carries them to the kitchen.

  I follow him and perch at the sink. “It's really not your business.” I turn on the water and begin rinsing.

  “I told Ethan I would look after you. If you're struggling, he'd want me to help.” Nick’s voice is soft.

  “Ethan's not here.” And he's not in my dreams anymore either. Where is he?

  “That's my point, Kate.” He reaches over and turns off the running water for the second time since he arrived. “He's not here to take care of you. He made it my job, and I don't take that lightly.”

  My hands jerk into the air, water drops flying. A few hit Nick's cheeks. They roll down like tears, and he doesn't wipe them.

  “Do I get a say in this?” A flare of anger rises. “What if I don't want a caretaker?”

  “I think you need one,” he says quietly.

  My fingers grip the edge of the sink. “I don't. I am just fine.”

  “Are you?” Nick shifts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You can't get to work on time? Why is that? I can only think of one reason. And the Kate I know—”

  “You don't know me!” I turn to him as I say it.

  Nick's jaw tenses. “I know what Ethan told me. You're serious, hard-working, and you like to follow rules. You think you're supposed to be perfect, because your Dad had crazy high expectations.”

  My cheeks are on fire. I can't believe Ethan told him all that.

  “So, for somebody who otherwise meets or exceeds expectations to be late for work, something must be going on.” Nick’s eyebrows move up on his forehead. “An illness, perhaps?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. My eyes stay locked on his.

  “You’re stubborn. And you have a temper. Those are things I’ve learned on my own.” His chin lifts, like he’s challenging me to argue.

  “I think it's time for you to go.” My voice is low. I’m focusing on the coffee maker in the corner. “Thank you for the flowers.”

  There’s a long pause while he does nothing. Then he walks to the door. He pulls it open and stops. I turn to meet his disappointed eyes.

  “You don't know me as well as I know you,” he says. “I won't stop trying. I might be the only person, besides you, who gave Ethan a run for his money in the loyalty department.”

  The door closes, and my tears fall. Nick doesn't understand. Nobody could possibly understand.

  Tonight I’m going to bring Ethan back.

  22

  Kate

  Ethan did not come to me last night.

  I drank enough that he should have. But he didn't.

  And I made it to work on time, just like I said I would.

  I may have thrown up three times in the bathroom, but I was at my desk by nine.

  Now, in the weekly meeting with Lynn, the spinning in my head is finally slowing.

  “I have very big news for all of you.” She gazes around the room, eyes dancing. “You are probably wondering why I've called in the whole staff, and not just the reps.”

  I look around, realizing for the first time that all the assistants and the receptionist are in here, crowding the space and leaning against the walls.

  Lynn continues. “Simone PR will be merging with a marketing company. This merger is going to make us more influential and effective in the marketplace. Now our clients will be able to go to one company for their marketing and PR needs.” Lynn's red lips pull back in a huge smile, exposing a lot of teeth. I've never seen her so happy.

  “Which marketing company?” someone in the room asks.

  “Maxim Marketing.”

  My stomach turns as the air fills with murmurs of excitement. Hasn’t fate been cruel enough? Now I’m going to be subjected to him every day?

  This cannot be happening.

  “Okay, team. Thanks for coming in. I'll keep you apprised of any developments. For now, expect this to merger to conclude the first week of December. That gives us roughly five weeks. This year’s holiday party will also be a celebration of the joining of our companies.” Lynn looks at the faces seated around the table. “Reps, I need you to stay here for our normal meeting. The rest of you, meeting is over.”

  My elbows rest on the table top, and my hands hold up my chin. When everyone has left, Lynn gets excited again.

  “Isn't this wonderful news? This has phenomenal upside. So much new business from existing Maxim clients.” She claps her hands in quick succession.

  People around the table bob their heads excitedly and offer congratulations.

  Lynn beams. “Does anybody know someone who plans parties? It's a short time frame.”

  My hand goes up. “My roommate. She's incredibly talented.”

  “Send me her info.” Lynn taps the piece of paper on the table in front of her, adopting her serious face. “Let's talk business.”

  She looks to the person directly on her left while I take a deep breath.

  In my mind I see the person I dislike more than anybody in this world. Blond, blue-eyed, and hateful. Trent.

  In five weeks, Trent and I are going to be coworkers. The last time we saw each other we declared our mutual dislike for each other.

  I don’t need a crystal ball to know this won’t go well.

  ***

  I drive home from the office, my mind filling with scenarios where I work side by side with Trent. When my mom calls, I pick up the phone, ready for a break from the what-if's.

  “Hey, honey, it's me.”

  “I know,” I chide gently.” Your name and picture come up on my phone when you call.”

  “Oh, right. Duh.” She laughs. “How are you?”

  “Hanging in there.” I made it to work on time today. Go me.

  “I ran into Nick at the Shepherds’ today. He was helping Evie rearrange furniture and—”

  “Why didn't James do it?”

  My mom sighs. “I don't know if I should say anything.”

  “Mom…”

  She sighs again. “He's having trouble. That's all I'm going to say. You can let Evie tell you, assuming she wants to. Anyway, I saw Nick, and he said you fell on Camelback and sprained your ankle.” Her voice fills with concern.

  “I'm fine. It was a minor sprain. No special treatment necessary. And it was almost three weeks ago. How was Nick when you talked to him?” My lips purse as I wait for her answer. I feel bad about the way things ended last night.

  “He was fine. Why?”

  “Oh, um, he had to work on a young girl who was in a car accident. He seemed upset by it. Just wondering if he's doing okay.”

  “He didn't say anything to me. He was only telling me about your fall. And that you're cooking again.” Her voice is calm, but I know her so well, I can hear the barely contained excitement bubbling beneath.

  “I wouldn't say I'm cooking again. I cooked. Once.”

  “Do you know what this means?” The excitement has broken through. She sounds almost dreamy.

  “No.”

  “It means you're coming back to us. The Master of Everything is—”

  “Don't say that.”

  There’s a long pause. Then, “What's wrong?”

  “I don't want to be the Master of Everything anymore.” My hand flies to my mouth. If I'm not Ethan's best friend, if I'm not the Master of Everything, who am I?

  “Oh, thank God. Finally.” Now my mother sounds more overjoyed than she did twent
y seconds ago.

  “Seriously?” I'm confused. She loves how much I've achieved. She seemed so proud at all my ceremonies.

  “I've been waiting a long time for you to rise above that nickname. It never did suit you. But your dad was certainly proud of it.”

  Dad never hugged me harder than when I was being recognized for an achievement.

  “Yeah, well…” I clear my throat.

  “Why do you think all this is happening? The cooking again and the distaste for your nickname?”

  “I have no idea.” Maybe it's because I laid in bed for three months with nothing to do but watch my life splinter.

  “Well, whatever it is, keep doing it. You'll be your old self again in no time. Minus the nickname, of course.”

  Right. My old self. As if she’ll ever come back. “Will do, Mom.”

  “I can tell you're ready to get off the phone. Just really quick, tell me if you're going to a Halloween party tonight.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “No way. I don't even have candy to hand out.”

  “Good. Then I don't have to tell you to be safe.”

  “I'll be perfectly safe inside my apartment.”

  “Maybe you can start a journal? First entry tonight? I think it would help you sort out your feelings.”

  “We’ve been through this.”

  “When your dad died, my therapist had me start a journal. Writing down all the things I was feeling, even if they seemed silly, helped me work through them.”

  Her words register slowly. Finally, I say, “I didn't know you saw a therapist.”

  “You were twenty-one. You weren't living at home, so you didn't see how hard things were for me. Just give it a thought, okay?”

  “Sure, sure,” I say, to mollify her. My creative writing hand stopped moving across papers a long time ago. A memory flits into my mind. Ethan asking me about my stories on the second day of his last leave.

  I cherish the memory, even if I don’t like Mom’s idea.

  We say goodbye, and I hang up.

  When I get home I go immediately to the kitchen, check my stash of wine, and see that it’s low. Last night’s attempt put a big dent in my supply. I grab my keys and head to the store.