The Day He Went Away

by Millikin, Jennifer

  “I can agree that the idea of falling in love with him sounds very romantic and movie-like. But there’s one huge problem.”

  “And that would be?”

  “I’m still in love with Ethan.” I think, anyway. I'm also furious with him.

  “It’s been”—Sarah counts on her fingers—“five-ish months since Ethan was tragically taken away from you.”

  “In three days it will be six months.”

  “How do you stay in love with someone you can’t see, hear, or touch anymore? I’m honestly asking you this question. No judging.” Sarah looks genuinely curious.

  “If I close my eyes and focus hard enough, I can hear his voice. It’s getting harder to remember the scent of his skin, but I can still smell his cologne. And touch… It’s going to sound crazy, but Ethan’s touch is burned onto me. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I swear I can feel his fingertips running across my cheek.” My fingers brush one side of my face, and I find my skin is wet from a trail of tears I didn’t know I was crying.

  My face reddens. I feel bare. Too bare. I said too much to a person that’s hardly close enough. She’ll think I’m insane for insisting I can still feel Ethan.

  Sarah covers my hand with her own. Instead of running, she’s reaching. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry you have to go through this. I wish there were something more I could do for you.”

  “It’ll just take time, I suppose. Some unknown magic number of days and then I’ll realize I’ve moved on.” My fingers rub my eyes. “But what can I ever move on to? I’m so beyond broken. No one will want to compete with a ghost.”

  “Maybe Ethan won’t always be your ghost.” She taps a finger on her chin. “It changes things for you though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when you do move on, the man will have to be beyond special. You can’t be with a person who isn’t understanding of what you’ve been through. He’ll have to be secure enough to share you with Ethan, in a way.”

  I laugh once, a disbelieving sound. “Who would be willing to share a woman with another man, alive or not?”

  Sarah’s eyes grow wide, innocent. She shrugs and looks down at her menu. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

  I know exactly who she’s talking about. And she’s wrong.

  “Somewhere there are rules against that kind of relationship.”

  “Life, fate, the universe, they all broke the rules on you.” Her voice gets louder and her words are spoken with strength, like there's an injustice she needs to defend. “You need to start breaking some rules.” She's defending me. To me.

  I want to hug her. I want to shout and jump because I’ve just realized that she is my friend. Not my coworker who I happen to get along with. Sarah’s the person I wanted Harper to be. She’s the person I needed this whole time, and she was right here all along.

  32

  Nick

  Can a moment exist for longer than the time it’s given?

  Because the moment in Kate’s apartment when she asked me the status of our friendship has been living on inside my head since I gave my answer.

  Her face fell a fraction after I confirmed what we are to each other, and I wanted to take my lie back and tell her just how much I’m feeling for her. I wanted to tell her that I’m no longer here out of duty.

  I’m here by choice.

  But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make myself say the words. They were stuck in my throat, the way I think they’re hiding behind Kate’s patched heart.

  What we’re feeling is so outrageous, so beyond the scope of typical, and the realization of it is paralyzing.

  So we both ran from it. We let the words hide inside of us, terrified to come out and rock the boat.

  I left Kate’s apartment without a plan or a place to go. I needed to be away from our denial.

  I’ve been driving around for an hour, trying to figure out what to do about our situation.

  My mission was to help Kate through her grief. I was supposed to put her back on her feet and make her into a functioning part of society again. That would mean she would eventually meet someone else.

  When I was putting down roots here, I wasn’t thinking about anything beyond settling in somewhere following my time in the service.

  I didn’t think about what it would mean when Kate was back on her feet. I didn’t think about what seeing Kate whole again would entail. But now I know it means eventually seeing her happy with someone else.

  Someone who’s not me.

  And all because I’m afraid of how it looks on the outside for the two of us to be together.

  In my whole life I’ve never been afraid to piss people off. Why am I starting now?

  ***

  I’ve come to the one and only place I can think to go.

  It’s a place I’ve managed to stay away from, but I think it’s finally time.

  The cemetery is dusty and dirty, little clouds of earth swirling up around my shoes and settling on my shoes.

  I’m facing a problem only my best friend can help me solve. It seems weird, coming here to ask for help from someone who can’t hear me and probably wouldn’t want to help me with this problem even if he could hear me. But I’m stuck. I don’t know what else to do, or who else to talk to.

  This thing with Kate goes so far beyond what I’m capable of handling alone.

  It doesn’t take too long to locate Ethan’s headstone. They are buried in the order they died, and in the last six months many more rows have been added to the space.

  So many other loved ones, grieving their departed. I read the dates on the small, rectangular headstones as I walk to Ethan’s. Nobody else has a date of birth as recent as Ethan’s. Everyone who died since him and was buried in the Veteran’s cemetery were old. The way it’s supposed to be.

  When I get to Ethan’s, I squat down and pull a water bottle and handful of paper towels out of the back pocket of my jeans.

  I pour the contents of the bottle over the flat concrete and metal headstone, then follow that up with a thorough wipe-down. When I’m finished, the towels are covered in dust and the metal shines in the overhead sun.

  Then, from my front pocket, I retrieve a single-serve bottle of the whiskey Ethan liked. Twisting off the top, I take a small sip and pour the rest out in the sandy dirt beside his headstone.

  Then I sit back in the dirt and sigh, tossing the bottle aside.

  “Part of me wonders if you knew what I was going to be getting myself into when I agreed to come here.” I shake my head at Ethan’s full name. Ethan James Shepherd.

  “Did you know how difficult she would be? Did you know she would lose herself so completely? It’s impressive, really. I don’t know how many people possess her ability to love so deeply. The downside is that she hurts more when something goes wrong. I’ve never thought it was a worthy trade-off, but after meeting Kate, I see I was wrong.”

  My hand rubs the length of my forehead as I face the truth. “I think Kate might be someone I could love like that.” I cringe, even though I’m the only person around. This is hard to hear, and even more difficult to admit out loud.

  “I think she might feel the same way. I get these flashes from her. Little cracks in her veneer. She lets me hold her. And hold her tightly, too. She has never shied away from my touch. And lately, she’s been responding to it, instead of simply allowing it. We had this moment earlier today, this little flicker, where we almost broke through the barriers we’ve set up around what we’re supposed to be to each other.

  We didn’t go there, but I know we both wanted to. I know it. She didn’t say the words she wanted to say because she’s held back by the thing that always holds her back. Her grief over you is so consuming that she can’t see around it. I’ve done my best to help her, but it’s clear there are some parts of it she has to conquer on her own. And me? The words stayed stuck in my throat because I needed to talk to you first.” I smile wryly. “Even if it is a on
e-sided conversation.”

  I sit back a little, wrapping my forearms around the outsides of my bent knees. “What do you think, brother? Should I go for it with Kate?”

  I laugh a little and glance around. I’m still alone out here. My gaze settles back down at Ethan’s name. Suddenly a conversation I had with him pops into my head.

  I was seated on my bed in the barracks, and Ethan was on the ground. We’d just finished watching a movie, and the only thing we cared about was what to do next.

  “What did you think about the dad in that movie?” Ethan asked, taking me by surprise.

  I shrugged. “He did a shit job planning for his family in the event of his death. They lost everything when he died. It was a decent movie, though.” Kind of sad, not our usual pick, but beggars can’t be choosers.

  Ethan’s expression grew serious. “I think we should make plans.”

  “For the wives and kids we don’t have?”

  “For the people we love. Our lives are at risk every second we spend out here. We’ve been lucky so far, but…”

  I shook my head. “Find some wood to knock on.”

  Nothing in this place is made of real wood, so Ethan pretended to knock on his head.

  “Anyway,” he said, serious again. “I mean it. Who would you want me to take care of if you were killed out here?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “My mom.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  “Do you want me to take care of Kate?”

  He nodded. “She’ll need help. She’s,” Ethan paused, running his hand over his head. “She’ll get stuck. It’s hard to explain. She feels emotion the way a capsized boat takes on water.”

  He looked down at the ground, and I swear I saw something glisten in his eyes.

  “Do you want to stop talking about this?” I offered, getting off the bed and settling beside him on the ground.

  Instead of accepting, he shook his head. “If I die, I want Kate to be with someone just like me. Because I’m right for her, and that means whoever he is will be almost as right for her as I am.” He smacked me on the back and looked my way, his face a mix of emotions. “Me and you, we're a lot alike.”

  I chuckled. “Y0u mean you want to stop talking about this too?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s depressing.”

  We got off the ground and Ethan offered a hand. We shook, cementing our agreement.

  And that was the end of it. We didn’t talk about it again. I hoped to hell I’d never need to call upon the agreement we made that afternoon, but hope is a fickle bitch.

  But now, sitting here in the sunshine and staring at Ethan’s headstone, I see so clearly what I missed that afternoon in the barracks.

  Ethan wasn’t only asking me to take care of Kate. He was giving me his blessing. He was hand-picking a man he deemed worthy of the girl he spent his life loving.

  He couldn’t have known Kate and I would fall for each other, but he wanted to make our path clear, if that’s what were to happen.

  I can’t speak for Kate, but I know how I feel, and I’m finished keeping the truth about how I feel to myself.

  I stand up, brush the dirt from my jeans, and salute my best friend. My comrade-in-arms. My brother.

  33

  Kate

  It’s Monday morning. Not until I opened my eyes this morning did I realize there may be repercussions for causing a scene on Saturday night. Best case scenario, I walk into work and Lynn doesn't say anything. Worst case scenario… I don't want to think about that.

  I'll shove the worst case scenario into a locked trunk, right beside the Emelie bombshell.

  I’ve dropped my bag in my cube and returned with coffee when an email from Lynn pops up.

  Please come see me when you arrive.

  Lynn looks shocked when I step into her office door.

  “That was fast.” She crosses and uncrosses her arms, looking everywhere but at me.

  “I was sitting at my desk when you sent the email.”

  “Oh. Hmm. Okay.” Lynn shuffles papers on her desk, knocks one off, bends down to pick it up.

  Her hand flicks out, the movement jerky. “Please sit.”

  I’ve never seen Lynn nervous. Dread parks itself in my core.

  Lynn closes her office door while I sit. A closed-door meeting. This is bad. This is really, really, bad.

  She settles herself in her chair, fidgets with the bracelets on her wrist as she clears her throat multiple times.

  “Lynn, are you okay?” My voice wobbles.

  She doesn’t answer, but she does finally meet my eyes.

  “Kate, this company doesn’t one-hundred-percent belong to me anymore, which you already know. The decisions are no longer made by me alone. For months you’ve had trouble with being late and, for a while, showing up at all. I documented this, but gave you a lot of leniency because of what you were going through. But then Saturday night happened.” She stops, taking a deep breath. “Following that incident, it has been decided you’re no longer right for Maxim/Simone.”

  What?

  Me? Fired? Not right for a company?

  WHAT?

  My head feels dizzy. I take a deep breath.

  “Lynn, look, I know I’ve had a hard time. But isn’t there some kind of warning you can give me? Saturday night was highly uncharacteristic of me. Trent Blackmore and I have an unpleasant personal history, but it’s something I can put aside and be professional.”

  Lynn's face is apologetic. “I wasn’t there when it happened. But other people were, and when they checked your file…well… I’m sorry. Security is waiting at your desk to walk you out.”

  “I need security?” My stunned mind can't comprehend this.

  “After the altercation Saturday night, they think it best.”

  “Lynn, that is really ridiculous. That was the first time in my life that I’ve hit someone. And to be perfectly honest, Trent deserved it.”

  Lynn looks at me with such sadness I feel bad for her. She doesn’t want to do this.

  With a deep breath I stand. My gaze sweeps Lynn’s office, a place I’ve been so many times since I started at Simone when I was twenty-two. The words embossed on her displayed diplomas are burned into my memory.

  I hold out my hand. “Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to sharpen my skills and exercise my talents at Simone PR.” My eyes burn, but I hold back the tears.

  Lynn's lips pull to one side when she grabs my hand. “I remember when you were a fresh-faced college graduate who had to learn to craft press releases that weren’t elaborate and long winded. You’re a fantastic writer. Don’t let this, or anything else, stop you from pursuing your dream.” She releases my hand and drops into her chair.

  I walk out, limbs wooden. I need to get out of here before the shock of being fired wears off and I start to cry.

  Just like Lynn said, the security guards are at my desk. I nod to them. It only takes two minutes for me to pack my belongings. A couple pictures, some energy bars, the pen my mom gave me on my first day at Simone. The coffee I made before Lynn called me in sits next to my computer, full to the brim. I leave the small box I spent so much time in and I don't look back.

  My eyes are focused straight ahead as I walk, the security guards just a couple inches behind me on either side. The only change in my gaze is when I pass Sarah’s cube.

  She’s standing at the opening, eyes crinkled in concern, face shocked.

  “I’ll call you,” I say quietly as I pass her.

  We get to the elevator, and I keep my eyes on the doors. I don’t want to see anybody. I don’t want to know who can see me.

  The doors open, and an expletive flies from my lips before I even know it’s there.

  Trent steps off. His face is smug. “Sorry about your luck.” He pats my shoulder and begins to walk. My heart hammers. He’s a few feet away when he turns back to me. “You know, Kate, you should see someone about that temper of yours. And for all the drinking.” He c
lucks his tongue and tries to look pained. “Poor Kate.”

  “Say what you want to say, Trent. Soon enough everyone will see the bruising on your face is just like your heart. Dark and ugly.”

  I lift my chin and step onto the elevator.

  I don’t turn around until I know the doors have closed. One of the security guards presses the button for the ground floor and I stare disbelievingly at the seam the closed doors have created.

  Jobless. That’s me.

  Best friendless. That’s me.

  Ethan-less. That’s me.

  The elevator doors open and the guards walk me to the exit. One holds open the door and I step out into the sunshine. I murmur my thanks and meet his eyes. The corners of his mouth turn down in a sympathetic frown. He steps back into the building and the door closes. The new Maxim/Simone insignia on the glass stares back at me. I want to be strong. Square my shoulders and march to my car, let anyone watching from the many windows above see that my chin is up. The shock and my obliterated pride keep me from doing that.

  I keep my eyes on my car as I walk to it. Tears fall, but I don’t wipe them until I’m safely in my car. Once the tears are gone from my eyes I drive out of my space, pausing at the edge of the parking lot exit. I look out to the street. Which direction should I go? I don’t want to go home and face an empty apartment. An apartment that should be empty all day, because its resident is supposed to be at work.

  I was counting on work to keep me from dealing with Emelie. Now she’s back, looming large in my head. I imagine her, blond hair and blue eyes. She’s wearing a dirndl and carrying a stein of beer in each hand. Right now it’s the only image I can come up with for a German woman.

  Yesterday Nick stopped by to see if I was ready to talk about Emelie, but he’s not the person I should be talking to about her. I can’t yell at him for Ethan’s lies. But there is someplace I can go.

  I wait until there’s a break in the two-way traffic, then I pull out. I point my car north and drive. As much as I want to, I don’t look in the rearview mirror at the building I’m leaving behind.