“Not true. His eyes were all over you. The chemistry was blatant. Plus, ew, he’s not my type, and I’m not his. Too boring for me. Lawyer? Not going to work.”
“Okay, wild child. It’s not like he has my number or anything. I probably won’t see him again.”
“Yeah, you will.”
“How do you know?”
“I wrote your number on the check. He’ll probably call after his shift.”
Sophia pretended to be mad, but she couldn’t. There was something about the handsome man, something about his mannerisms, the way he looked at her. From the moment she saw him, there was a palpable chemistry, a connection. She’d never believed in love at first sight. Sure, she’d had a few boyfriends in high school, but they had been slow burns, friendships turned smoldering. This had been an intense wave of heat on sight, a ridiculous conflagration too strange to believe in.
A few hours later, Tim called her, and they sealed a first date. Over the next few years, Pink Lemonade would get off the ground, and everything would fall into place. There were the months of dating, the building of the business, and the graduation from law school for Tim. There was the proposal—at Mama’s, of course—the purchase of the house, the wedding. There was the moving out, the moving on, the love flowing freely.
It had all started in a skimpy, scandalous miniskirt over some celebratory lasagna.
They just had no way to know it would end all too soon, the fire still burning, the ashes swept away to an unreachable area.
_______________
Sophia picked herself up from the floor, reaching for a tissue to sop up the tears saturating her cheeks. A headache surged, and her nose was stuffy. She felt hungover from her grief. She hated how these beautiful memories were now tainted by the knowledge of the ending. It was like trying to reread your favorite book. The moments weren’t as magical, as special the second time around because you already knew how it all ended, how it all worked out. In her case, it ended with the destruction of a love that had marked her adult years.
Before Tim had come into her life at that restaurant a decade ago, she had herself situated. She knew how to maneuver life by herself, knew how to fall asleep alone. She even enjoyed it. Now, though, she’d been lulled into a comfortable routine in his arms, had fallen in love with the idea of having someone to walk through life with. She’d grown accustomed to falling asleep beside him, coming home to him, making decisions with him. He had been the one who sang to her in the car on long rides, who remembered they were out of trash bags when they were at the grocery store. He had been the one who reminded her about her oil needing to be changed. He had been the one who remembered to clean the furnace filter regularly.
It was so much more than the practicality of Tim that she missed. She missed the way his cologne wafted down the steps after his shower, the way he looked at her even when she was just wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. She missed the way “I love you” rolled off his tongue, the way he would sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her. She missed how he was drawn to every dog in the park, crouching down to pet it roughly as he turned to beg her for one of their own. She missed their inside jokes, their playfulness. She missed how he would sing Nelly’s “Grills” into the spatula every time he fired up the grill like a total cornball. She missed how he could make her laugh her head off when she felt like crying. She missed the feel of his hands stroking her hair, rubbing her shoulders, easing her into a state of calmness.
She craved the feel of his hand brushing hers in bed when they were making love, or the easy laughter they shared afterward. She missed him, all of him, every single part of their life together. She would do anything to go back to being the twenty-two-year-old just meeting the man who would change everything. She would do anything to have those moments back, to not know how fleeting everything was. She wanted to go back to being the naïve girl who thought they had a lifetime of memories ahead of them.
But she couldn’t. Now it was Stella’s turn to start fresh, to experience new love at Mama’s Diner with this handsome man named Larry. It was her turn to share first kisses, first fights, and first I love yous. It was her turn.
Because Sophia’s turn was over.
Everyone told her she was young enough to move on eventually. How could she? Why would she want to? She’d had a once in a lifetime love, a love at first sight over lasagna kind of love, a knock her mismatched socks off kind of passion she couldn’t find anywhere else.
Grabbing her jacket from the closet in the back room, she headed out of the shop, locking the door and shutting off the light on her way. She headed to the only place she felt safe these days, the only place where someone understood her. It was a short walk, but it was a painful one. She trudged on, alone, all alone, the new status of her life.
Ten minutes later, she stood, feet aching, staring at the only thing left of Tim in this world. She ran her hands over the smooth stone, her fingers tracing the letters as they always did.
She crumpled to her knees, her head on the stone. She wanted to bash her head against it, to keep bashing it until she was gone. She wanted to lie here on this ground until she too was dead.
She wanted to be with him, to feel his arms around her, to hear him tell the story of when they first met as he had so many times. She wanted to hear him talk animatedly about the new Call of Duty game coming out or the new Mexican restaurant in town or the new deposition he had to work on. She wanted to hear him chatter on mindlessly about the weather or about dinner or about his new pair of shoes. She just wanted to hear his voice, hear it saying anything at all.
Instead, only silence greeted her. A long, drowning silence swept around her, the streetlight nearby casting an eerie beam of light on the area. Water seeped into her jeans from the damp grass. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was dead, and with him, a part of her was dead too. In truth, it was more than just a part of her that died with him—she felt like her whole being had died. She was simply an empty shell mindlessly clattering through a semblance of the life she once had.
As she thought about how unfair life was, a soft sound of footsteps caught her attention. She turned from the stone to see who was nearby.
“Sophia,” the familiar voice said, and she rose to greet him, happy to see she wasn’t alone, at least for the moment.
CHAPTER SIX
JACKSON
He wrapped his arms around her as she quite literally fell into him, tripping as she scrambled to reach him. Both her presence at the grave and her reaction to seeing him there surprised him. He hadn’t expected to see anyone here, had expected just to wallow in the sight of his old friend’s grave in solitude. He’d had an instant, inexplicable urge to come here. He hadn’t been here since the day of the burial, had been avoiding it in some capacity. He felt like coming here was just acknowledging what he didn’t want to recognize—Tim was gone, and he hadn’t said goodbye. No one had.
He’d since realized what a blessing it was he was here. Sophia was clearly a train wreck. Who could blame her? She’d been trying so hard to hold it together. It was apparent at the funeral and even more obvious at the bar. Now, he saw the true state of her, the state that was to be expected.
She buried her face against his pecs, and he instinctively stroked her hair, comfort radiating through his fingers. They stood, two people grieving, holding onto each other. There was nothing sensuous about it, nothing inappropriate. They were two people, one from Tim’s past and one from his present, finding solace in their mutual loss. Holding her, he realized now he too had been holding back, had been pretending Tim’s death wasn’t affecting him.
But it was.
It was another loss in the string of a life falling apart. It was also guilt. He hadn’t made time, had been so absorbed in himself he hadn’t made room for the friend who’d been his rock as a child. Tim had been there so many times for Jackson. He’d helped him through everything from failed classes to the death of Wade to breakups. He’d been there to e
ncourage him through boot camp, to send letters and care packages when he was off in Iraq. Tim had never forgotten him, not really.
Jackson couldn’t say the same thing.
Time had thrown a wedge between them. Time had been hard on Jackson and had tossed him off his path. He’d become absorbed in his own life. Now it was too late to tell Tim what he had meant to him.
“I’m sorry,” Sophia finally said, pulling back. “I’m so sorry. It just all crept up on me, and then you were here, and I know you understand. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispered, his voice breathy and crackling. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to pretend. I know how much he meant to you. He meant a lot to me too. It’s so hard. It sucks.”
She looked at him, and even with the darkness, he could see recognition. They understood each other. They didn’t have to pretend this was easy.
They stood for a moment side by side, staring at the grave.
“I miss him,” she said.
“I know. Me too. I feel awful I didn’t get to see him.”
“I guess it’s normal when someone dies. Having regrets. I have so many too. I think of all the times in those last weeks I ignored him or blew by him because I was running late. I think of all the pointless fights we had. I hate how I wasted so much time. But I didn’t know. We couldn’t have known.”
Jackson sighed, debating whether to say what he was thinking. He felt like he could, though. He felt like he could be honest with Sophia, which was absurd because he didn’t know her, not really.
“Everyone thinks time is what you need to deal with death. If only I’d had more time. If only I’d known. But Sophia, honestly, I don’t think it really helps. When my brother, Wade, died, I’d known it was coming for a year. We’d been through all of the prognoses, heard the news, had time to prepare. It didn’t help. Because when his time came, it was still the worst day of my life. I still couldn’t say goodbye. My family still fell apart. I don’t think death is ever easy.”
Sophia looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Tim never told me about it.”
“I tried not to talk about Wade after he died. I sort of closed that part off. Tim followed suit out of respect for me.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“And Wade?”
“He was seventeen.”
“What was it?”
“A rare blood cancer.”
There were a few more moments of silence as each weighed what to say next.
“How’d you survive it?” she finally asked, staring at Tim’s headstone.
“I almost didn’t. I wanted to die too. But it was Tim. He pulled me through. Pulled our family through, really. We’d been friends before that. Wade’s death just made me realize what an amazing friend Tim was even more. I just wish I could’ve been there for Tim at the end like he was there for me.”
“That’s what’s so hard. No one was there for him. He died alone. In his office. Alone. That’s the part that kills me.” She choked on the last words, choked back tears. He pulled her close.
“He knew you loved him. He knew it. I could see it when I saw you two that first time together. He was crazy about you, Sophia.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Everyone’s trying to help. My parents, Stella, they all mean well. But no one gets it. How could they?”
“They can’t.”
She swiped at her tears for a moment, before breaking the silence. “I should probably get going, give you some time alone. I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was good to have someone to talk to.”
She started walking away.
“Sophia?” he asked. She turned around. “Can I give you a ride?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s not a far walk.”
“Please? My truck’s right over there. It’s the least I can do.”
She hesitated, clearly thinking of turning him down. She shrugged. “Okay.”
He nodded to Tim’s grave, saying a silent goodbye. I’ll take care of her, buddy. I’ll make sure she’s okay, he promised silently.
It was the least he could do. After all Tim had done for him, it was the very least he could do.
_______________
The next week passed with a perfunctory quality. Jackson spent his days going to work, coming home, and sleeping. It was the existence he’d acclimated to.
He’d considered calling Sophia after the night at the grave, but he thought better of it. She had a network of family and friends. He didn’t want to intrude. He was a part of Tim’s past, a part of Tim’s life Sophia barely knew. Besides, he couldn’t really do anything for her. How could he make things better? He didn’t want to start rumors around town, didn’t want to be known as the widow stealer of his best friend.
On Saturday morning, Jackson felt better. It was his weekend with Logan. He jumped in his truck bright and early to get on the road by seven. He was driving the hour to meet Chloe for the pass off. He would have two days with his son, two days he hoped would rejuvenate him.
He hated that it had come to this. He hated that he was a weekend father—or more accurately, a two weekends a month and a few court-appointed holidays a year kind of father. This wasn’t what he had planned.
He’d wanted to be the father his dad hadn’t been. Sure, his dad had provided for him, had given him so much. He hadn’t been abusive or anything like that. Still, his dad had been the cold, emotionless, authoritative father Jackson didn’t ever want to be. Jackson couldn’t remember his dad ever telling him he loved him, couldn’t remember a single hug. His father was a no-nonsense, respect-your-elders kind of father.
Things had only worsened after Wade died. The already rigid Louis had tightened up even more, afraid to show emotion, afraid to show the world the hurt that most certainly had been his over the loss of his eldest child. He shut down completely, shut them out completely, cocooning himself in an unbreakable wall of stoicism. The wall had shifted slightly, allowing some glimmer of emotion to shine through, but for the most part, Louis Gauge was still the picture of sternness Jackson remembered all too well.
When Chloe found out she was pregnant, Jackson promised himself right away he wouldn’t be Louis Gauge. He would tell his son he loved him every day, would give him more hugs and kisses than he could ever want. He would smother his son in love, teach him something every day. He would be the Dr. Seuss-reading, picture-painting, cookie-baking father he’d always wanted. He would be the kind of loving father he’d secretly always wanted.
More importantly, he would respect any career choice Logan wanted to pursue. He wouldn’t force him into the family business.
Now, though, things were so different. Jackson couldn’t be the father he wanted to be. He wasn’t showering Logan with love every day. He wasn’t the one teaching him new words or how to tie his shoes or how to use manners. He was hours away, clutching only a picture of the son he loved more than anything. He was left hoping the new man in Logan’s life was fair and loving, was the kind of father figure Logan could look up to.
Driving down the highway, Jackson glanced at the horizon, still shaded in pink from the sunrise.
He’d been telling himself everything would get better if he just hung on. He’d told himself not to give up. Lately, though, he’d been feeling utterly hopeless. He’d been feeling like all was gone. How could things get better? He’d lost. There was no one left in his corner, either, other than his parents and sister. He was a lost man, a lost dad, a lost everything.
The pull of the booze was strengthening again, inviting him into its cool, plentiful ability to drown out the world. He’d been fighting it off, but ever since Tim’s death, the pull had strengthened.
If things didn’t turn around soon, he worried he would cave to its pressures and, tragically, succumb to the fact his life was doomed.
_______________
“Daddy!” The curly haired boy charged toward Jackson as
soon as his mother lifted him from his car seat.
“My man!” Jackson proclaimed, ruffling the boy’s hair as the child wrapped himself around his legs.
“I brought my dinosaur.” He held up a stuffed toy, the one Jackson had bought him during their last visit.
“Perfect. Are you ready to have some fun?”
“Yeah. Bye, Mommy.” He blew a kiss at his mother as Jackson loaded him in the truck. Once Logan was buckled in safely, his dinosaur in his lap, Jackson shut the door to the extended cab.
“I’ll see you at exactly four on Sunday. His bedtime is at eight. Please don’t screw up his schedule like you did last time.” Chloe’s voice oozed with coldness as she flipped her brunette locks.
Jackson eyed her as he stood, hands on the top of the truck door. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he hissed, hoping to catch just a sliver of the woman he once knew.
The warm woman was gone, replaced with a cold version of her, an ice queen who felt nothing for him.
“Me too. I wish I didn’t have to give you any visitation rights. If I had my way, you’d be gone from his life. But I don’t. So just be sure you don’t screw up. Because if I hear you were drunk around our son, it’s done.”
“Chloe, I won’t. I love him. You know why I turned to the bottle.”
“So it’s my fault?”
“Let’s not do this again, okay?”
“You made your choice.”
“And you made yours. Need I remind you I came home to be with you, and you had been cheating on me?”
Chloe rolled her eyes and stomped away. Jackson closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.
It was so hard to imagine a time they had been in love, a time their relationship had been sparkling with hopes and dreams. How could love turn so cold so quickly?
It pained him they were at this point. It wasn’t because he still loved her. Sure, a piece of him would always remember, would always love the woman he’d fallen for when they first met. But the fantasy was gone now. What devastated him was the hostility and how it was affecting Logan. He didn’t want that.
To Say Goodbye Page 5