To Say Goodbye

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “Shut your eyes,” Stella demanded, putting a hand over Sophia’s face.

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “Not yet you’re not. Oh, here he is!” Stella let out a squeal, and Sophia tried to move her hand.

  “Can I open them yet?” Sophia was nervous as hell. Then she was even more nervous because something was sniffing her foot.

  “Open them!” Stella proclaimed, clapping cheerfully as Sophia looked down to see her surprise.

  A floppy, clumsy tan puppy with a black muzzle waddled around Sophia’s feet.

  Her jaw fell open and she eyed the two curiously. “A puppy? Are you kidding?”

  “What? It’s awesome. You’re always sitting here, alone. Now you’ll have a Netflix buddy.”

  “Guys, I can’t keep it. No, no, no.”

  The puppy sniffed her foot, but she tried not to look at its fluffy cuteness. It tripped over her foot, and she almost laughed.

  Almost.

  She crossed her arms, staring Stella down. “This is a terrible surprise. I don’t have time for a puppy.”

  “You have plenty of time,” Stella said, not backing down. “Plus, he’s adorable. And expensive. But mostly adorable. So you can’t reject him. Look at him, he loves you already.”

  Sophia took a deep breath. “Guys, I appreciate it, but really...”

  “Hold him,” Stella demanded, picking up the puppy and placing it in Sophia’s arms. “Love him. He just wants to be loved.”

  Sophia felt the big—and mighty heavy—bundle of fur in her arms. He was soft and warm, and he was giving her the doughiest eyes she’d ever seen. She felt her heart melt just a little bit.

  “He’s freaking heavy. How old is he? Like eight months?”

  “Um, eight weeks.”

  Sophia froze. “What? What is he?”

  “A mastiff. My best friend breeds them,” Larry chimed in, reaching over to pat the dog’s head.

  “Wait, don’t these things get really big?”

  “Only about 270 pounds top weight. Not too bad, right?”

  Sophia’s jaw dropped again. She placed the puppy on the ground. “Okay, that seals it. No way. Not happening.”

  “Stop being a jerk. You’re falling for him. I can see it. Give him a chance. It’ll be good for you.”

  Sophia wanted to say no. Her head screamed nine million reasons why this puppy needed to get back in the car and go away.

  But her heart, well, it was falling for him every minute. The face, those eyes, the clumsy steps.

  Plus, it would be good to have a guard dog, right? Safety first.

  “Fine. I’ll keep him.”

  Stella squealed and clapped, jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew you’d love him. Now what are you naming him?”

  Sophia smiled, without hesitating. “Henry.”

  “Henry? Where’d that come from?”

  “When I was little, I used to read the Henry and Mudge books.”

  “Wait, wasn’t Henry the little boy?” Larry asked.

  “You read those too?” Stella asked.

  “Of course. But I’m pretty sure Henry is the boy.”

  “I think you’re right. But whatever, I like Henry,” Sophia retorted, picking the puppy up again now that she’d committed. She quickly shifted the puppy in her arms, his weight making her limbs go numb. The puppy playfully pulled on her shirt with its razor sharp puppy teeth, but she couldn’t be mad. Looking into his eyes, she couldn’t feel anything except sheer joy.

  “Thanks, guys. You’re right. This is perfect.”

  They stood, the three of them and the puppy, in a silent, beautiful moment worthy of a commercial. Sophia was just getting ready to tell Henry how much she loved him, how happy she was to have him.

  And then, like so many things in her life right now, everything fell apart.

  Sophia suddenly felt a warm sensation down the front of her shirt. She glanced down as a tinkling sound ricocheted from the hardwood floor. There was a lapse between the sound and her brain registering what was happening. Then she realized what the warmth was and what the tinkling sound was.

  Henry had peed on her. As in all over her. Soaking, dripping pee. Sophia screamed, handing the puppy to Larry. Henry peed on Larry who passed Henry to Stella.

  Henry was, luckily for Stella, all empty. He licked her face.

  Larry and Sophia glared at Stella.

  “What? It’s not my fault. Here, get together, let me take a photo for Instagram.” Stella was laughing at this point as Larry and Sophia tried to fling the warm liquid off.

  Stella just kept laughing, Henry’s puppy barks only adding to the sound.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JACKSON

  Jackson finished his shift at the restaurant, punched out, and headed home. Some of the crew were going out for drinks, but he didn’t want to. It had nothing to do with his resolution to be a better man, although he wished he could claim that was it. He just didn’t feel like socializing or being around anyone.

  He felt like shit.

  He felt terrible about the kiss. What was he thinking, putting Sophia in that position? She’d just lost her husband. She wasn’t ready for a kiss, especially with him. She was off-limits. He’d promised himself he would keep her that way.

  But those eyes. Her hair. Her laugh that was so rare these days. He’d do anything to make her smile, to make her happy.

  It wasn’t something he wanted to admit or acknowledge. He’d tried over these past few months to reassure himself he was just helping her out as a friend, just doing what was right by Tim. In actuality, he was just being selfish.

  He was falling for her.

  Some would probably say it was just a rebound. He’d lost Chloe, who at one point had been the love of his life. Yes, he’d loved her, and it hurt like hell she’d been unfaithful. It was agony. He’d been crazy about her. But it was so different than what he felt now.

  Chloe had been about passion, about rash decisions, about spur of the moment feelings. He’d barely known her when he’d said, “I do.” He’d barely known her when they said goodbye.

  Sophia was different. Chloe was a woman you raced to the altar with. Sophia was one you languidly strolled beside, not wanting to rush, not wanting to move too fast for fear of missing a single moment. She was the kind of woman who grounded him, who made him want to be better. She was the kind of woman he could see an entire future with.

  She wasn’t a rebound for him. She was a reawakening. He’d thought he’d known love with Chloe. Now he realized their relationship hadn’t even been the tip of an iceberg.

  Driving home in his dilapidated, rusty old truck, he shook his head, holding back tears. It didn’t matter what he felt. It didn’t matter. Sophia had walked away from everything. He’d messed everything up. He didn’t even have a friendship to cling to anymore.

  He didn’t blame her. Love was scary, especially after what she’d lost. Plus, there was Tim to think about. He understood why she was racked with guilt because he was too. He knew why she was worried about the whispers, the stares.

  Jackson felt like an asshole for not standing back. She was vulnerable. He should’ve been the rational one, the one to put a stop to whatever was growing between them. He should have protected her from himself, from their growing chemistry, from the uncertainty of their friendship growing into something else. He should be glad she walked away, glad he wouldn’t have to resist anymore. It was out of his hands.

  But he wasn’t glad. He was miserable. He felt like he’d been lifted out of his despair, out of his lonely apartment where alcohol was the only thing that moved him. With Sophia, he’d seen a glimpse of hope for the future, of what life could be like, of what a real woman who completed him looked like.

  Then, without warning, the glimpse faded, trashed by his mistake, by a feeling of betrayal toward his best friend and her husband. He was right back where he started, alone, depressed, and feeling like nothing was worth it anymore. Except it was worse
now because he’d had a chance to see what happiness could actually look like.

  It was crazy, but he had been happy. They had trodden cautiously from acquaintances to friends to... whatever they had been a few days ago. There hadn’t been crazy, romantic moments and gestures because their relationship was one with odd rules. They’d shared some subs, an impromptu Christmas walk, a trip to the zoo. Regardless, he’d been happy. He’d felt more love, more romance in their encounters than he’d ever felt with Chloe.

  At first, he’d wondered if the taboo status of her had been what attracted him so much. A suppressed rebel deep down, he never liked rules or lines in the sand. He always desired a way around them. But no, it was more than that. It wasn’t just because he wasn’t supposed to love her that his heart craved her. As he pulled into the driveway to his sad apartment, he realized with certainty it was because he was supposed to love her that he did. The more time they spent together, the more she tried to pull away, the more he realized loving Sophia was all he was meant to do.

  The rest was unimportant.

  _______________

  “So call her, you idiot,” Gretta announced as she shoved some cheese and crackers in her mouth. Jackson sat at their parents’ kitchen table across from Gretta and Jonathan. They were at his parents’ home for a Sunday dinner, a monthly tradition. Jonathan was also going to review some appeal options with him. He hadn’t planned on spewing about Sophia to his chatty, blunt sister. But she had caught on that something wasn’t quite right.

  “Why are you so mopey?” she’d asked over the appetizers their mother had set out—he always knew when he came for Sunday dinner, he didn’t need to eat for a week beforehand.

  “Gretta,” Jonathan prodded, giving her a look.

  “I know, I know. Stuff sucks right now. But little brother, you look even more down than usual. What gives?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” He’d readjusted his beanie as he’d said it, debating on whether or not to confide. It would be nice to get a second opinion on the situation.

  “Gretta, stop giving your brother a hard time,” his mother had chastised from near the stove, where she was putting final touches on the pot roast.

  Gretta rolled her eyes. “You’re in your thirties, and she still babies you. Good God, the favoritism.”

  Jackson smirked. “Not my fault I’m the baby of the family.”

  “Will you two stop?” Jonathan pleaded. “We have serious things to discuss.”

  “Yeah, like what’s wrong.”

  Jackson took a breath. Then he confessed everything. He could feel his mom’s ears listening in, could see Gretta’s eyes twinkling.

  Now she’d said what he’d been hoping she would say. She’d encouraged him to pursue Sophia, to at least call her. But he still wasn’t sure.

  “I don’t know. It feels... wrong.”

  At this point, his mother paraded to the table with the pot roast, smiling wistfully at her son. She put the roaster down on a hot pad in the center of the ancient wooden table before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your sister’s right. Call her.”

  “Mom, don’t you think it’s inappropriate? Tim was my best friend.”

  “Honey, Tim’s gone. You’re still here. And you’re wonderful, kind, and sweet. Tim would be crazy to want anyone except you with Sophia.”

  “See, what I mean? Favorite,” Gretta teased as she hurried to finish her cracker, her bright red lipstick rubbing off.

  “Oh, hush,” their mother demanded as she walked back to the stove to get the rest of the food she’d prepared—which was enough to serve a family of twenty.

  For the rest of the meal, Jackson’s uncertainty eased. He didn’t know if he’d call her, didn’t know if he’d brave it. At least he had reassurance from his family he wasn’t a creep or a jerk, and that he wasn’t at fault for what his heart wanted. Coming from his mouthy sister, the woman who told him Chloe was a bitch upon meeting her, the woman who told him he’d never last two minutes in Iraq, well, it was something.

  Gretta might be obnoxious sometimes and less than tactful, but she was honest. If she thought it was okay to call Sophia, well, then maybe it was.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JACKSON

  On Wednesday, Jackson found himself with a rare morning off and decided instead of lying on the couch, he’d reconnect with the army body he’d once possessed. He snatched his running shoes from his bedroom floor, heading outside to jog off some nervous energy.

  He’d pondered over his family’s opinion for the past few days, thinking about their words of wisdom as he perused the television channels, as he went out on Monday with Evan, who was back in town for a few days, as he talked sports with the guys at work. He’d given it time, given her space, thought it would be good to think on it.

  But he’d missed her. God, he’d missed her.

  He’d missed the easy certainty of their walks in the evening, strolling together talking about anything they needed to get off their chests. He missed their playful banter, the jovial way she pushed him when he said something annoying. He missed the touch of her hand on his arm, the look in her eyes when he said something funny.

  Still, he wasn’t sure what to do with it all. It was such a weird situation, a guilt-ridden situation. Maybe he should just let it be.

  Jogging down the block, he studied the sky. A thin fog lifted from the town, creating an eerie aura. The sun’s rays crept through as the fiery ball began its great ascent. Snow at least temporarily melted, the morning was warmer than it had been in recent days. Still, a chill in the air bit into his bare fingers and slapped against his face, reminding him it would be a while until permanently spring-like weather took over.

  He followed the path so familiar to him in childhood, dashing down Allegheny, up Maple. He ran until his chest heaved and his legs burned with exhaustion. He persevered, though, a destination in mind.

  Before he knew it, he was there, standing at the edge of the park. Desolation marked the park at this hour and only a few young children played with their parents. Most of the town, however, was quiet and empty. It was refreshing to see the town devoid of people, the buildings and trees the only company.

  He ran down the path into the park’s entrance, deciding to head to a bench he’d once loved as a child. He’d spent a lot of time here with Tim, frolicking in the fields, playing on the jungle gym. A warm nostalgia of childhood permeated through him.

  When he arrived at the spot, he bent over to catch his breath, hands on his knees. Wheezing, he realized how much he’d let himself go. Restaurant food, hours on the couch, and alcohol would wreck even the best military physique. He was slipping. He needed to make this a habit.

  He sank down onto a shoddy bench, age weathering it to a state of utter ruin. He rested on its uneven slats, stretching his legs, taking in the misty sight of the empty fields before him. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, leaned back, and stared at the sky.

  Only the sounds of a few playing children interrupted his trance. It was soothing to be here, out of his apartment, alone. In his apartment, he felt lonely and depressed. Here, he was still alone, but somehow it was different. It felt like a good kind of alone.

  Then it was all gone, disturbed by the screaming of a woman’s voice.

  “Dammit! Come back!”

  He looked to his right to see a blonde woman in sweatpants, a hoodie, and what appeared to be yellow Crocs dashing after a floppy puppy. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, but eventually, recognition set in.

  He smiled at the sight, at the coincidence, and at the fact that this was all coming together on a bench he used to visit with Tim.

  Maybe coincidences weren’t coincidences at all.

  _______________

  “Gotcha!” he yelled once he snatched the ball of fur from the grass. The puppy licked his face, and despite his exhaustion and frustration from chasing the wild puppy for the past three minutes, he chuckled. Puppy breath never got
old.

  She came a few seconds behind him, heaving from exhaustion, her hair an utter mess. Her ponytail was falling out, she could barely talk, and her face was damp with perspiration, despite the chill in the air.

  “Thank. You,” she managed to punctuate as she took the puppy from his arms, her breath floating in ringlets in the biting air.

  “You’re welcome. What happened? Here, come sit down for a few and catch your breath.” He led her to the bench, where she graciously sat, attaching a leash from her pocket to the puppy’s collar.

  “I didn’t think he could run so fast. I took him outside to pee. I didn’t have time to get a fence yet. And he must’ve seen a rabbit or something because—bam!—he was gone.”

  “He ran from your house?” It was only about six blocks away, but still, it was probably quite a feat when you were chasing a spastic puppy.

  She nodded. “A car almost smooshed Henry. A car almost smooshed me. It was awful. I’m so glad you were here.” After she said the words, she looked embarrassed.

  “So I take it his name is Henry?” He didn’t want to give her a chance to end the conversation prematurely, so he decided to pick neutral conversation territory.

  “Yep.”

  “When did you get him?”

  “I didn’t. Stella and Larry bought him for me. I’m so glad,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. He noticed, however, that there was a glimmer of a smile on her face as she eyed the puppy, despite the harrowing morning events.

  “He’s adorable. It’ll get better. We all have our rough days, huh, bud?” Jackson said, petting the dog. He’d always been a sucker for dogs.

  “Well, I hope so. So far, he’s almost worn out his welcome. He kept me up all night last night, and then this morning, we had this escapade. I’m so sorry. You must’ve thought I’d lost my mind. Plus, I look terrible.”

  “Not true. About the looking terrible part.”

  She nudged him. “So you think I’m crazy?”

  He made a gesture with his hand to say, “a little,” and she laughed.

  “You’re probably right. I do feel a bit crazy sometimes.”