Counting On You

by J. C. Reed

  I’ll never be the same without Kade, and no amount of denial can hide the fact that I haven’t just lost my heart to him.

  I’ve become his. Heart, body, and soul.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Vicky

  I step back from the suitcase, ready to give up.

  The damn thing just won’t close even though I’ve already thrown out everything I think I might no longer need which, granted, isn’t much.

  “Need help with that?”

  I turn and notice Sylvie leaning against the doorframe, her long blonde hair piled up in a bun, an amused expression on her face. There’s a suitcase at her feet, which is even larger than mine. She’s dressed in sweat pants and a tank top, like she’s going to yoga and not leaving this place.

  “You happen to have a trick up your sleeve?” I point to her stuffed suitcase.

  “Sit on the thing, and hope for the best.” She lets out a hearty laugh as she slides to the floor and picks up one of my shirts. At some point during my struggle with the suitcase, the damn zipper broke, and I ended up scattering half the contents. My room, or the room that’s been my home for the past six weeks, looks like a mess.

  “I can’t believe we’re done.” Sylvie begins to rearrange my clothes.

  “It was about time.”

  I try to help by handing her a dress. It’s the same red dress I wore for Kade. My heart fills with longing as I remember his approving look.

  “This place wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sylvie says, shooting me a meaningful look.

  “It was alright.” I cast my eyes downward, ignoring the sudden dull ache in my chest.

  It’s been seven days since he left.

  Seven days during which I could barely get him out of my thoughts, let alone forget him.

  “I wouldn’t want to come back,” I mutter.

  The day after his departure was particularly hard.

  Much harder than I anticipated.

  I couldn’t hold up a conversation, couldn’t eat, could barely breathe.

  Days have passed and I still keep wondering whether he’s thinking of me. Whether his feelings—like mine—might be growing with each second apart.

  For the first time, I’m not obsessed…like I-have-to-stalk-you obsessed. I don’t feel the need to chase him. I think of the special moments we shared, and miss him the way you would miss a good friend.

  “Are you okay?” Sylvie looks up from my suitcase and frowns.

  “I’m not even sure why I packed half of this stuff. I sure didn’t need it.” I avert my gaze before she can read my expression.

  Letting out a loud groan, Sylvie begins to tug at the zipper, and to my surprise manages to get the thing closed.

  I lean back and eye my overstuffed suitcase warily. It looks like it might be about to burst at the seams. “I can’t wait to get out. But to be honest, I also dread the long drive back home.”

  “Might be a while.” Sylvie points at a top and jacket on the bed.

  “No. There’s no way we’ll ever squeeze those in.” I shake my head and groan. “This will never end.”

  “You still miss him, don’t you?” Sylvie says gently. The sudden change in conversation takes me off guard.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You watched him leave and returned to the spot every day for a week.” Her tone is soft, accepting. It brings tears to my eyes.

  I watched Kade leave through one of the windows on the first floor, half hidden behind the curtains. I didn’t think anyone had noticed me. I didn’t think anyone would notice me seeking that particular spot, reliving the memory of Kade getting into the car, his somber expression, the dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “I happen to like that window.” I nod, eager to believe my own lie, if only I could.

  “So you say. I have something for you.” Sylvie hands me a bag I didn’t notice before.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s yours. I mean, it belongs to you.”

  My heart skips a beat as I peer in and realize it’s a large blue box—the same one I left on his bedside table, unopened.

  “Why are you giving me this?” My voice breaks. My body’s shaking.

  I can barely breathe.

  “Kade,” she says as if the name’s explanation enough. “He asked me to give it to you Told me to hold on to it until the last day. I didn’t ask what it was or why.” She eyes me expectantly as I lift the box out of the bag and turn it in my hands.

  “Don’t you want to open it?” Sylvie prompts.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Because it hurts too much that he’s gone.

  There’s nothing that could change our circumstances.

  “I can do it for you,” she says.

  I take in her eager expression.

  It’s only a gift.

  Except, it’s his, and whatever it is, it means the world to me.

  A gift that will make me want him even more than I already do.

  My first impulse is to ask her to take the gift back and never talk about it again, but instead I find myself holding my breath, hesitating, wondering, wishing.

  It’s only a gift.

  It can’t hurt me more than I’m already hurting.

  “I can see what it is and then decide for you whether you’ll like it,” she suggests.

  I nod. “Alright.” I hand her the box and turn away as she opens it. Holding my breath, I wait for her reaction. Something. Anything. Sylvie remains quiet.

  I turn around, frowning. “What is it?”

  “It’s…a book,” she says somewhat incredulous, as if he’s gifted me a goat. “An old book.”

  I take the box from her outstretched hands and peer inside, instantly laughing.

  It’s not just any old book.

  It’s a first edition of Pride and Prejudice, in pristine condition.

  Definitely a collector’s item that must have cost a fortune.

  How did he even get it?

  “Someone should tell him that chocolate and flowers are the way to go. I’m so sorry. He really has no taste,” Sylvie says. “It even smells bad.”

  I laugh and wipe at the sudden tears filling my eyes. “No, it’s perfect.”

  “Perfect?” She sounds so aghast I let out another laugh.

  “Yes.” I turn to her, and for the first time I hug her—really hug her with tears spilling down my cheeks.

  When I cried for Bruce, I cried for the months I had wasted on him. Now I’m crying because my heart is bleeding to be with Kade.

  I crave his touch, his smile. It feels as though my soul’s missing the sound of his voice, his laughter, everything about him.

  “It’s the perfect gift.” I press the book against my chest, thinking that his hands touched it before me. That his thoughts were with me when he left. That he knows me so well, maybe better than anyone else.

  “I miss him,” I whisper. “I miss him even though I don’t want to. Why does it hurt so much that he’s gone?”

  “Because you’re in love with him,” Sylvie whispers, smiling.

  “What am I going to do?” I take a tissue from Sylvie’s outstretched hand and begin to dab at my tears.

  “That one’s easy. You two are going to see each other again.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Sylvie asks.

  “Because friendships formed in rehab don’t last.”

  “But we both know what you and Kade had wasn’t exactly friendship.”

  I grimace. It was friendship…and a lot of other things. “You know what I mean.”

  “He cares about you, so if you’re happy about this—” she points at the box, “—book—”

  “It’s a first edition,” I cut her off.

  “I get it.” She rolls her eyes, not getting it at all. “What I’m trying to say is that he makes you happy and that’s all that counts.”

  “Let’s pretend I wanted to get in touch with him. I don’t have h
is number.”

  “That’s not true.” She points at the book. “He told me to tell you to look inside.”

  I open the book, my fingers lingering over the old print. As I turn the page, I stop breathing.

  It’s a note in Kade’s handwriting, written on a piece of paper.

  * * *

  Vicky,

  * * *

  Our past doesn’t define us. Your past doesn’t bother me.

  Call me when you change your mind…be it tomorrow or next year.

  Call me when you’re ready and I’ll be there, waiting. Assuming they let me out, otherwise I insist you visit me, making use of your amazing climbing abilities.

  And remember:

  Do. Or do not. There is no try.

  In the end, there’s only us because we’re one of a kind.

  * * *

  Kade

  * * *

  My fingers brush over his writing as a tear rolls down my cheek. My lips curl into a smile and I realize the tears that follow are tears of happiness.

  I don’t have to see him again.

  But I can, and most importantly, I want to.

  “He gave you his number for a reason. People don’t do that unless they want you to call,” Sylvie says.

  Maybe.

  I shake my head. “You told me that I needed therapy.”

  “That was six weeks ago when you still had that unhealthy obsession with your ex. You’re different now.”

  I regard her for a long moment. “What changed your mind?”

  She takes her time replying. “When you fall in love, you react a certain way when you hear the other person’s name. Like you don’t want other people to speak it out loud. Like it’s sacred to you. Whenever I say his name, you give me that strange look.” She shrugs as she considers her words. “Like a warning to tread carefully. Besides, I saw the way he looked at you. It’s as if…I don’t know.” She shrugs again and gets up. “Just give it a chance, Vicky. You have nothing to lose. You two should stay in touch simply because you’re in love with each other. You don’t even need any other reason because your feelings are reason enough.”

  Why does she make so much sense today?

  “Okay.” I draw out the word. “What about my counselor’s advice that addicts should never get involved because it doesn’t turn out well?”

  “She was probably quoting statistics,” Sylvie says. “Look. Numbers are nothing. Maybe ninety-nine percent of people fail, but what if you belong in that minority who make it work? Don’t you want to see for yourself whether you’re up to the challenge? Last I checked you’re not a number. You’re breathing and living and have your own free will. Make use of it.”

  I stare at her as her words echo through my mind yet I’m unable to grasp them. “What are you saying?”

  “I think you should get in touch with him.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “Just ask him whether he’s settled in. Shouldn’t be too hard. Come on.” She pulls me up with her. “Let’s go.”

  I glance at the watch. “We still have a few hours.”

  “Why wait?” She gestures at me to get up. “Let’s get our phones now. Time to shine.”

  I don’t ask what she means by that because Sylvie looks like someone who knows how to get her way. And then there’s something else on my mind.

  A feeling that doesn’t make sense.

  It’s growing in the deepest pit of my stomach, cold and heavy.

  I can’t wait to get my phone back, if only to find out whether Kade’s changed his mind about us.

  “You really think we’ll be getting our phones back already?” I peer at Sylvie as we stop in front of the closed office door.

  “They have to. The program’s over so—” She shrugs. “But just in case, leave the talking to me, alright?”

  I want to trust her, but I’m so anxious to resume communication with the outside world that I’d rather do this myself. “What’s the plan?”

  “You know how you always said that my counselor is much nicer than yours? Guess what? You were right.” She flashes me a grin. “He’s always offered his help, even let me borrow his phone once.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “We all know he has a crush on you.”

  “A girl can use her charms.” She shrugs again and knocks, shooting me a ‘wait here’ look.

  She’s in there for what feels like an eternity.

  Maybe she’s not the teacher’s pet after all.

  This can’t go wrong. I’m about to knock when the door’s thrown open and Sylvie steps out.

  “So?” I prompt.

  She peers at me and all my hope perishes. Her face is pale; her expression guarded.

  Something feels wrong.

  “What happened? Didn’t you get our phones back?”

  She shakes her head and retrieves my phone from her pocket, handing it to me.

  I peer at it, then at her. “What’s going on? Did he do something?”

  She clutches at my arm and pulls me down the hall to the backyard. My heart’s slamming in my chest with certainty that something is wrong. She only stops in the far corner where a tree’s hiding us from anyone’s view.

  “Something happened.” Her tone is cagey and her eyes are avoiding my gaze.

  “What is it?” I scan her expression but can’t read it. “Don’t tell me we can’t go home.”

  “No, Vicky.” She shakes her head grimly. “I don’t even know how to say this. It’s about Kade.” My breath hitches in my throat. She shakes her head again. “This is so hard.”

  Every part of my body tenses. I want to shake her, to force her to tell me what’s going on. But all I can do is stare at her until she looks up.

  Our eyes lock, and my heart sinks.

  “There was an accident on the way to the airport.” Her voice breaks. “I’m so sorry, Vicky, but he might not make it.”

  That’s all I hear.

  Kade had an accident two weeks ago and no one told me.

  A scream escapes my chest. Or maybe it’s just in my head—cruel and silent. Piece by piece, my heart begins to crumble, the pain as sharp as being cut.

  Sylvie presses a note into my hand. “It’s the hospital where they’ve taken him. That’s all I know. I’m so sorry. I wish there was more I could do.”

  Tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

  I can’t be without him—that’s the only coherent thought I can form.

  Chapter Forty

  Vicky

  I’m never going to sleep. I’m never going to feel happy again. Even though I’ve known Kade for only a few weeks, it feels as though his departure has ripped a piece out of me. I knew the time for saying goodbye would come. That eventually we’d separate and move on with our lives. The knowledge that it would end was always there.

  But I never expected our ending to take such a tragic turn.

  After hearing about the accident, I was in shock, my heart inconsolable, parts of it broken—sharp like shards of crystal glass.

  I couldn’t utter a word, afraid that even speaking his name would make it worse.

  I haven’t spoken a word since.

  Not to my mom or to my sister whose questions about my treatment have been bordering on obnoxious, so much so that I’ve decided to ignore their text messages.

  It’s only after I’ve arrived back home and seen all the pictures of Bruce in my apartment that I realize I have to find a way to see Kade again.

  I have to know more.

  He’s done so much for me by just being there when I needed someone. He never judged me when everyone else did; he also never sugar coated the truth.

  I pack another suitcase and call a taxi, clenching the little note Sylvie handed me before we parted.

  “Call me,” she said, her tone imploring me to do so.

  Kade had uttered the same words the night before stepping into the car that was supposed to drive him to the airport.

  If only I had stopped him.
>
  Spent a little more time together. Made plans. Discover the world together. Do as much as possible before what we had eventually turned sour.

  If only.

  I never got a chance to contact Kade, but I did ask Sylvie for help to find where Kade is. I skim her latest text message one last time before I toss my cell phone into my handbag.

  The hospital where he was moved to is in Greensboro, almost three hundred miles from Roanoke Island. Getting there is the easy part. But how will I persuade the hospital personnel to let me see him if someone stops me?

  I arrive before midday.

  Stepping through the broad doors of Moses Cone Hospital, I breathe in the familiar scent of disinfectant. After years of working as a nurse, it’s become a part of me, just like the steady buzz of people living, surviving, healing, and sometimes even dying. This time, the rush of familiarity doesn’t instill confidence in me, which doesn’t make any sense.

  To my relief, the hospital is unusually busy and no one stops me. No one wants to know where I’m headed.

  As I pass floor after floor, the waiting rooms, the maternity ward, I realize being here as a visitor isn’t the same as doing my job.

  All my life, I’ve known that death is a natural process. I’ve always believed in the advice of doctors and the progress in science. I’ve always shown compassion to patients and visitors. Now I realize I never truly felt the magnitude of it all.

  I never understood the powerlessness people go through at the prospect of losing a loved one. And there’s also the guilt that I’m to blame for what happened to him. If we hadn’t gotten involved, he would never have left. He would never have stepped into that car and crashed on the way to the airport.

  I reach the right floor and stop for a moment to orientate myself. His room number is on the left. As I head toward it, I can’t shake off the feeling that Kade needs me.

  Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I need to tell him that I’m sorry one last time, even if he can’t hear me.