Strangers

by A. L. Parks

  Bryce pulled the car alongside the grass, as far off the road as he could manage. Putting it in park, he glanced over at Abby as she held the birds of paradise wrapped in white paper, and reached for the door handle.

  "Okay, I'll wait here. Take as long as you need. I'm going to listen to NPR." She pushed open the door, and stopped before getting out. Turning back to him, a small, almost embarrassed smile crossed her lips.

  "I was sort of hoping you would come with me," she said quietly, hopefully.

  "Are you sure?" he asked, surprised by the request.

  "I'm sure," she answered as she got out of the car, closed the door, and waited for him to join her. They walked across the grass together, until they reached the headstone bearing the Reynolds family name, with Trevor's name chiseled under it. Abby took her gloved hand and wiped the dirt off the top of the stone, knelt down in front and cleaned off the ledge before placing her floral offering upon it.

  She stood and gazed at the headstone. Gone was the overwhelming hurt that his relationship with her was not noted anywhere on the marker. It had been a particular sore spot between her and his family after his death. She reminded them that he was a mere one hour away from having a wife who would have made all the decisions regarding his funeral. That had not gone over well with the family, and there were some tense moments at the funeral

  home as they all tried to grapple with making arrangements to bury a young man who had everything to live for, leaving behind so many loose ends.

  Now, she could see how impossible a situation it had been for everyone. Abby was desperate to find a place in her life without Trevor. His parents were trying to bury their son. At the time, Abby could not have conceived of ever moving on with someone new. It had not been until recently that she had believed she could have a happily ever after with someone other than Trevor – that her opportunity at happiness had not disappeared with him.

  "It’s hard to believe it’s been five years," Abby said to Bryce, taking hold of his hand. Her eyes remained locked on the black granite slab. Bryce was quiet. The skies had lightened, and the sun threatened to peek out through the clouds, but it remained cold. A gust of wind kicked up around them, and Abby moved in closer to Bryce, attempting to block the cold and gain some heat.

  "Abby?" a voice called from behind them. The couple turned and glanced at the woman walking towards them.

  "Sarah," she exclaimed, taking two steps towards the woman, and embracing her.

  "Mom said you normally come in the afternoon. I didn't want to disturb you," the thin, strawberry blond woman continued, the words coming out of her mouth at a high rate of speed. Her eyes darted between Abby, Bryce, and where Trevor lay.

  "Uh, yeah, I usually do," Abby explained, a flush crossing her face, "but I thought I would come early today." Sarah smiled, and then settled her eyes on Bryce. "Oh, I'm sorry," Abby said. "Bryce, this is Trevor's sister, Sarah. Sarah, this is Bryce. My boyfriend." The words seemed so natural, and flowed from Abby with ease - more ease than she would have thought, if she had considered for a moment running into any of Trevor's family. She had never seen any of them there on Valentine's Day. Of course, now she knew why. They had been avoiding her, and Abby was not sure she could really blame them.

  "Oh!" Sarah said, and shook hands with Bryce. "It’s so nice to meet you," she smiled broadly.

  "It’s very nice to meet you," Bryce returned her smile.

  "Well," Sarah turned her gaze back to Abby, "I don't want to disturb you..."

  "No, that's fine. We were just getting ready to leave. Please give my best to your family."

  "I will. You do the same. And give me a call sometime. We should get together for lunch, and catch up," Sarah offered, the smile still plastered on her face.

  "Sounds great," Abby responded, as she and Bryce turned and walked across the grass. Bryce unlocked the car, and opened the passenger door as Abby slid onto the seat. Settled behind the steering wheel, Bryce peered at Abby, his face full of questions. Abby sighed, and began the explanation of the Reynolds family dynamic as Bryce pulled back out onto the road, and headed into the city.

  The Reynolds’ had been unsure of how to treat Abby after Trevor's death. They had all been so close. She was going to be a member of their family, and in an instant, that all changed. They had continued to invite Abby to family functions, but Abby spent most of her time crying over Trevor, unable to accept his death. They had worked hard at moving on, and trying to cope with the loss of their son and brother. But Abby's insertion into family functions and her deep depression made it impossible to be around her. Abby knew this, felt them pulling away, noticed the lack of invitations to dinners or birthday parties, and realized they were no longer returning her phone calls. And Abby had accepted it. She knew, to them and herself, she had died along with Trevor. She

  had rarely seen any of the Reynolds clan over the past five years, and she suddenly felt sad that she had missed out on being a part of Trevor's family due to her own inability to move on.

  "Maybe that will change," Bryce offered as she gazed out the window in reflection.

  "Yeah, maybe," she agreed, and turned to face him. "Now what?"

  "Movie?" Bryce asked, kissing the very tips of her fingers as they sat at the traffic light.

  "Sure," Abby replied, "just not a horror flick."

  ***

  March was definitely leaving like a lamb, as the days were filled with sunshine and warmth, bringing buds on branches, and blooms around the base of the large tree that sat outside Abby's apartment building. Hand-in-hand, Abby and Bryce made their way through the park, trying to burn off some of the calories they just ingested during the large brunch at their favorite breakfast place. Soaking in the sun’s rays, they watched a young boy walking with his mother in front of them, as he chased a butterfly that remained just out of his reach. Every squeal caused Bryce and Abby to giggle along with him.

  They spent the afternoon walking through a street fair, filled with local artists. Bryce moved slowly through the paintings and sculptures, stopping often to contemplate the artist’s vision. Abby would stand next to him, gaze at the painting, get bored, and redirect her attention towards all the people around her. She preferred watching life happen, instead of gazing at one person's interpretation of what she was seeing. But Bryce had a deeper understanding of art, which was sort of a given with his PhD in art history, and curator position at a local art museum.

  The night sky had already darkened the apartment, when Bryce announced he needed to head back to his place. Abby's lower lip popped out, as her voice got low, "Why can't you stay here?"

  "I have no suits here, baby, and tomorrow is Monday. I have to go to work."

  "Well, maybe you should just bring your clothes over here," she offered, a sly smile crossing her face.

  "What? Have half my work clothes here, and half at my place? I already have that with casual clothes, and have a hard enough time keeping things straight." Bryce scrunched up his face.

  "Or you could bring all your clothes here," she replied, "along with all your other stuff."

  Bryce stopped. The blood drained from his face, and he his eyes seemed distant. His chest moved up and down dramatically, and the tension radiated off of him.

  "Move in with you?" Bryce asked. Abby nodded her head, her eyes locked onto him. He took a deep breath, and sighed loudly.

  "You practically live here already, Bryce. You stay all weekend, as it is. What would be the difference if you were here during the week? You come over for dinner after work, and then leave for your apartment. If you were here, you could just go to bed without having to hail a cab."

  "Let me think about it, Abby. I don't think we should make this decision tonight, okay? I'm going to go, and we can talk about this tomorrow." An awkward smile developed while a look of sheer panic flashed across his face.

  Abby moved toward him, placing her arms around his waist, and nuzzling into his chest. "Okay," came the muffled response. She lifted
her face to his to kiss him. He pulled away, and headed towards the door. Turning back to her, he kissed her quickly on the forehead. "Hey, you okay?" Abby asked, peering into his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, as her stomach tied in a knot.

  "Yeah, I just need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" His voice was low, quiet, confused. Abby felt her heart clench tightly as he turned and made his way down the stairs without another glance back at her.

  Chapter Ten

  The alarm buzzed loudly next to Abby's head. She reached her hand to hit the snooze without looking, and attempted to open her eyes. Her hand felt along the top of the bedside table for her cell phone, and she pulled it towards her face. Hitting the round button brought up the screensaver of Bryce laughing. Swiping her finger across the front, she checked for her morning text message from him.

  Nothing.

  Bryce had sent her a text message every morning since she had come home from the hospital four months ago. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and checked the log to see if she had missed it somehow. Nothing was there. Lying back down, she closed her eyes and placed the cell phone against her chest, as her lungs constricted and her heart pounded painfully.

  Something was wrong. He had left last night in such a hurry after she had blurted out that they should live together. She had meant to have an actual discussion with him, plan it out properly, and make arrangements for his place to be sublet. But lately Abby had been impulsive in her actions with Bryce. She was giddy and happy and wanted to experience every bit of life with him, and refused to be held back any longer.

  But she had failed to consider that he was not necessarily in the same place. They had not had a discussion lately about Emily, and how he was dealing with their new relationship, and his lost relationship with his wife. Abby pulled back the comforter, and walked into the bathroom.

  "Stupid, stupid move, Abby," she admonished herself. Splashing water on her face she glanced at the image in the mirror. She had not slept well last night, and dark circles were already present. She turned the water on in the shower, allowing it to heat while she brushed her teeth. The memory of him leaving; barely kissing her. The lost look on his face as he made his way down the stairs and out of her sight. He had sent her a text when he got home, informing her that he was headed to bed, and would talk to her the following day. She had replied that she loved him, but he had not responded.

  Showered, hair dried, and make up applied, Abby found a clean suit to put on before picking up her cell phone again. Her chest rose and fell heavily, as she opened the screen, hoping for a text. Still nothing appeared. "Coffee," she murmured to herself, "I just need coffee."

  By the time she had made it into her office, and closed the door, she was a bundle of nerves trying to figure out what was going on. Her thoughts varied between Bryce ignoring her to Bryce breaking up with her to Bryce involved in an accident and at the hospital. She turned on her laptop, and opened the blinds that looked out over the city. She had been given a promotion when she returned from her medical leave in January. Nothing like a fellow employee beating the crap out of you to get upper management to notice that you are a valuable asset.

  By mid-morning, Abby still had not heard from Bryce. She had texted him with a "Good morning", but he had not responded. Her calendar chimed, alerting her to a meeting in the conference room down the hall. She picked up the phone on her desk, and dialed Bryce's direct line at the museum. It rang a few times before popping her into his voice mail. She left a message, stating that she had not heard from him, and was getting worried. "Please call me back," she added before she hung up.

  She grabbed her cell phone, and headed out the door for her meeting. The meeting droned on and on, and Abby found herself staring out the window more than once. Things suddenly were not feeling right, and nothing made sense. She glanced at her cell phone to see if Bryce had returned her text message. Disappointed, she placed the phone in her jacket pocket, and turned her attention back to the meeting, forcing herself to stay engaged.

  The light on her desk phone was blinking when she returned, indicating she had a voicemail. Quickly, she picked up the receiver, and punched in her passcode. Becca’s voice caused Abby’s heart to sink. She exited out of her voice mailbox, and dialed Becca’s number.

  “Hey, girlie!” Becca’s voice sang when she answered the phone.

  “Hey, chicka. What’s up?” Abby responded.

  “Not much. Just thought I would check in, and see how things are going. I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

  “Um, you haven’t talked to Bryce today, have you?” Abby asked. Her voice was tentative and wary.

  “No, why? Is something wrong?” Abby could hear Becca’s kids chattering in the background.

  “I’m not sure. Bryce left in a hurry last night, barely said good-bye to me, and I haven’t heard from him today. It’s just unlike him not to return a text or phone message.” Abby twisted her fingers into the phone cord.

  “Did you guys get into a fight?” Becca asked.

  “No,” Abby responded. “I mean, I don’t think it was a fight.”

  Becca exhaled loudly. “What does that mean, exactly, Abby?”

  Abby relayed the events of the previous night, and how Bryce had become instantly distant when she had suggested they move in together.

  “Well, maybe he was just thrown by it, Ab. I’m sure he will be fine by the time you see him tonight at dinner.”

  Abby knew Becca was probably right, but could not get the large, cold lump that sat in the center of her chest to melt, and allow her to breath. She pulled her purse from the bottom desk drawer, and headed towards the elevators. Standing in the car as it descended to the street level, Abby peered at her reflection. She had always worn her emotions on her sleeve. Anyone who looked at her would know that she was unhappy and struggling with something emotionally. It was evident in the down-turned lips, and dark circles under her eyes.

  She went around the corner and grabbed a hot dog and bottled water from her favorite street vendor. Sitting on the edge of the huge water fountain outside her office building, she took out her cell phone and considered calling Bryce again. Tucking the cell back into her pocket, she forced herself to take a bite of the hot dog. She made it through two bites. Her appetite was gone. She had too many questions that had no answers. She mentally ran through the events of the previous night, as she threw pieces of the hot dog bun out for the birds to fetch.

  It had not seemed like an outrageous request. In fact, to Abby, it seemed like the next logical step in their relationship. So why had he reacted the way he had? If he was not ready, why not just say so, and come up with a plan of when to talk about it again? Yeah, it would hurt Abby if he had refused, but it would have been nothing compared to what she was feeling now. Uncertain. And Abby hated not knowing what was going on with Bryce, and where his head was at in all this. Actually, she had no idea where Bryce was at period.

  She needed to hear his voice. If she could hear his voice, it would calm her own fears. She dialed Bryce's direct line again, but only got his voicemail. Ending the call without leaving a message, she gathered up her trash, and made her way back into her office.

  An email sat in her inbox from the Emily Holden Foundation. Bryce had hired her firm to conduct an official audit of the foundation records, and Abby was in charge of it. She opened the spreadsheet and buried herself in numbers for the remainder of the afternoon. She closed out of her computer, turned off the office light, and made her way back down to the street to hail a cab.

  She sat quietly in the back of the cab, her thoughts returning to Bryce. He had not returned her phone calls or text message. She prayed he would be at her apartment when she arrived, making dinner while they discussed how the day had gotten away from them both.

  But when she unlocked and opened the door, it was dark and quiet. She tossed the mail on the desk in the corner of the family room, and made her way back into the kitchen. Pulling a bottle of
water from the fridge, she leaned against the counter, and wondered what was going on with Bryce. Visions of Trevor’s limousine flashed in front of her eyes. She gasped. Her hands shook. What if the reason Bryce hadn’t returned her call was because he was in an accident? Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she decided to call the main line of the museum to see if Bryce had made it in to work at all.

  "One moment, please," the switchboard operator said, and she put Abby on hold. The soft music was interrupted by the line being picked up.

  "Bryce Holden."

  A wash of relief came over her that he was not hurt. But just as quickly was replaced with confusion and anger. "Hey," she stated, "you are alive."

  "Abby," his voice was surprised. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's been crazy here today. We have a shipment coming in for a new display, and I've been busy. I'm sorry." His voice was off, strained, and he was pulling away.

  "Well, sorry to bother you. I just hadn’t heard from you, and wanted to make sure you were okay. Will I see you for dinner?" she asked, but she already knew the answer.

  "I don't think so, Abby. I plan on being here late tonight to get this shipment in, and start assembling the display."

  "Got it," her voice clipped. What had she done to set him off to the point he couldn't even speak to her, let alone see her?

  "I'm sorry, Abby," his voice softened, but Abby was too upset to accept the apology.

  "No, that's fine," she snapped. "Got it. Talk to you later," and she hung up the phone before he had a chance to respond. Tears streamed down her face, and a soft sob escaped from her throat, causing her to place her hand over her mouth. Her head pounded loudly, in perfect time with her heart that was breaking within her chest.

  ***

  Slumped onto the couch, she kicked off her heels. Her cell phone beeped with a text from Bryce that stated he was sorry. Abby ignored it. Searching her medicine cabinet for the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed her after her hospital stay, she popped two in her mouth, and washed them down. Stripping out of her clothes, she pulled on her pajamas, and made her way back out to the living room. Wrapped in a blanket, she turned on the TV. By eleven, she was fast asleep on the couch. The loud ping in her ear from the cell phone lying next to her head woke her. She sleepily pulled herself up, and checked the phone. A text message sat in her inbox.