Where One Goes

by B. N. Toler

  “He will,” he assures me. “I know he will. And don’t feel guilty for loving him, Charlotte. Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t understand it, but I do. I know what’s in your heart. I know how much you love us both. You just love us in a different way. Don’t ever feel bad for that.”

  We talk for hours, saying our good-byes. And I pray for vigor the entire time. I promise him I won’t ever be that girl he found on the bridge the night we met. That much I’m sure of. He’s changed my outlook on life, and I’m a stronger person because he believed in me. He promises his heart will remain here with me. And I know that even when I can’t hear or see him, his memory will always give me strength. He tells me stories about his childhood, beautiful and simple stories to keep my mind from unraveling. He’s always had the gift to distract me so I don’t breakdown. And I don’t know what time it is, but my eyes have grown so heavy, I can barely stand it.

  “Go to sleep, baby girl,” he whispers.

  “Will you be here when I wake?”

  His warm eyes meet mine and he smiles softly. “I’ll always be with you, Charlotte. Always. Right here.” And he points to his chest.

  That means no. This is it. I want to protest. Beg him not to go, but I have no energy left. As my eyelids close, refusing to stay open, even though I desperately want them to, I tell him the truest and most pure thing I can. “I love you, Ike McDermott.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl,” he whispers. “Here, there, forever.”

  And come morning, I know that this is the last time I’ll ever see or speak to the beautiful and wondrous soul that is Ike McDermott.

  I watch her sleep until the early rays of the morning sun begin to stream in to the room. She slept restless, crying softly in her sleep and calling out for me, begging me not to go.

  I want to be angry and hateful about how unfair this is. But I can’t. For I feel truly at peace. I was given a gift. This beautiful woman not only saved my brother, but she loves me. In that, I can only rejoice. I think back to how George was. I feared he’d waste away to a shadow of his former self. She is the beacon of light that my brother needed. I can rest easy now.

  After using all of my will and strength, I finally stand, allowing my eyes to slowly graze over her; getting my last visual fill before I leave. I have to go before she awakes or it’ll only drag out the emotional hell we’re both going through. She needs to begin the healing process and she can’t do that while I’m still here. In these last few seconds, I commit to memory every physical detail of her that I can; her long, dark hair, soft, pink lips, and smooth skin. But the best thing about her is her newfound joyous and spunky personality. I imagine her laugh, how light and beautiful it is. And that makes me grin. These memories are what will hold me through what lies ahead. The remembrance of her and what she has done for me and my family will be what gives me the courage to move on.

  I smile as I stare at her for the last time.

  “Good-bye, Charlotte,” I whisper, and morph away.

  I’m at our place by the water, watching the sun glisten on the water’s surface. Fall is in full effect and I smile slightly. This is my favorite time of year. The pull is so strong, I know if I don’t focus, it will take me at any moment. But I want one more minute. Just one. Turning, I walk back to the giant tree, wishing I could leave Charlotte a little piece of me; a tangible memory she could see and touch. When I look up, I stand frozen in shock. Carved in the tree, in bold letters is I & C inside of a big heart. For a moment I just stare, wishing I could go back to tell her what it means to me. But that’s not an option now.

  “It’s time,” I remind myself as I step closer to the tree and rest my hand over our initials. With one last look at the water, and my hand on the tree, I close my eyes and let the pull take me.

  I finally just let go.

  Grief. What a horrid thing it is, yet I hold tightly to it. The agony I feel is how I remember he was here, that he existed. Sweet, beautiful Ike—he always had a smile on his face. The morning Ike leaves me, my father shows up. When I refuse to leave, he takes pity on me or decides it’s not worth arguing with me, and pays my motel bill for the remainder of the month, shocking the hell out of me. For a brief and beautiful moment, I think maybe he’s come to terms and realized my gift is real, but he obliterates that notion when he informs me Detective Andrews had requested I stay, even though, technically, I didn’t have to. Then, to really hammer the nail in my coffin, he tells me he’ll return with my mother in a few weeks.

  Later that day, Sniper shows up and holds me as I sob. I’m a wicked mess, but he doesn’t mention it. He simply tells me Ike would want me to be happy, and I know he’s right.

  When he finally stands to leave, he says, “I’m not sure if this is the best timing or not, but George asked me to give this to you.” He lays an envelope on the bed beside where I’m sitting. I don’t remember saying good-bye to him or him leaving, but when I look up, Sniper is gone. It must be a good-bye letter from George is all I can think. Maybe it was too hard for him to face me. Maybe he’s worried I’ll go crazy if he says it to my face. I’m not sure what he has to say to me, but I hope he’s at least kind. My feelings for him haven’t changed, and if his letter is a full rejection, I fear I won’t be able to handle it.

  It’s an hour or so before I can bring myself to open the letter. The envelope is thick and I can tell there’s more inside of it than just a letter. My hands are trembling as I tear the envelope open and see what’s inside. In addition to the letter are dog tags. Something feels as if it’s lodged in my throat as I gently pull out the chain with the two small tags attached.

  Clutching the tags to my chest, I fall back on my bed and wail. I’ll never forget the sound of his tags jingling under his shirt as he moved around. Is George giving these to me? I weep for what seems an endless amount of time before I’m able to sit up again. Finally, I manage to unfold the piece of paper that was also in the envelope, and hold my breath, bracing myself for the worst.

  Dear Charlotte,

  Forgive me for writing you this letter instead of talking to you face-to-face, but to be honest, I’m not exactly proud of how I’ve behaved around you the last few times we’ve seen each other. I told you the man you met when you first came here isn’t really me. And that’s true. The real me isn’t the kind of man to get hooked on drugs and sleep with loose women, and I hate that that’s your first impression of me.

  I also told you I want to be the kind of man you deserve and is worthy of your high opinion. That’s also true. But telling you who I really am and showing you are very different things. So I’m going to rehab, Charlotte. I’m going to get clean and get my head straight. I know I haven’t given you much reason to have faith in me, but I hope you’ll wait for me. I hope you’ll stay and give me the chance to prove myself to you.

  If not, I understand. I’ve given you plenty of reasons to leave. But know this, Charlotte . . . When you told me you loved me the other night, something changed inside me. You marked me, and I’ll never be able to let that go or forget it. Please know I’ll do anything to be deserving of that love if you’ll give me the chance.

  I’ll be back in thirty days. You still have a job, too. I’ve worked it out with Sniper. Please be safe and no matter what you decide, Charlotte, please be happy.

  Enclosed you’ll find Ike’s dog tags. Since you gave me something treasured from your brother, it’s only fair I do the same. I know he would’ve wanted you to have them.

  ~George

  Returning the letter to its envelope, I lie back down and cry.

  I’ve been gone thirty days. Not a lot of time, but it felt like an eternity. Now, I finally get to go home and face the real world again. I’m fucking nervous as hell. Anxiety has taken over because I know I have to look everyone I love in the eye and face what I’ve done. I know my family will forgive me; Sniper, too. But it’s her I’m most worried about. Can she really forgive me for the way I’ve behaved? I’ve been a colossal dick, a sentiment con
firmed by Sniper more times than I care to count. I’ve spent the last month digging up the bones of my past and facing them, but behind all of the shit, I had to figure out the millions of things I had to learn to forgive myself for. The one thing I know for sure is I need her. Hell, I love her. I’ve just been too much of a chickenshit to tell her. I crave Charlotte like if she were my next breath. She’s been there in spirit the entire time, telling me, I don’t want to lose you, too. Rehab was a bitch to get through. The shakes and night sweats I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But I’d made a promise to my brother, and damn it, I intend to keep it. He deserves that much from me. I’m lucky I made it out of my self-deprecating hell. It’s a damn shame my anger has kept me away from her for this long—from accepting her for who she is. But through it all, I never stopped wanting her.

  The last night I saw her, after leaving the Mercers,’ I’d been impressed. The way she restored their sense of calm was nothing short of a miracle. As if their pain was healed instantaneously. Later that night, when she’d climbed in my lap and kissed me, I knew there was no way I could ever let her go. But in that moment, there was no way I could keep her either. I was a fucking mess; barely clean and just coming out of a quasi-relationship with a woman I had no fucking business seeing. Charlotte deserves better than that, but for some reason, she loves me. She wants to be with me, or at least she did. And to give her the best, my very best anyway, I had to go and fix me before I started anything with her.

  My father has just picked me up and is driving me home from rehab, making mindless small talk along the way, but my mind is stuck on her. How is she? Where is she?

  “How’s Charlotte?” I interrupt him; unable to hold it in any longer. My father smiles, but never takes his eyes off the road.

  “She’s well, I believe. Why do you ask?” And the way he’s smirking I know he knows why I’m asking.

  “You know why, Dad,” I mumble.

  Picking up his stainless steel travel mug, he takes a long sip before saying, “She’s a great girl, George. I hope you can convince her to stay.”

  My fingers instantly intertwine, full of tension as I squeeze them until the tips turn white. “Is she talking about leaving?” I ask tentatively, my throat growing tight at the thought. I couldn’t blame her if she is. It’s not like I’ve given her much of a reason to stay. And fuck me if I don’t want her to.

  “Her mother and father were just down here for a week or so. Word was they begged her to go, but she refused.” I let out an audible breath, full of relief. She stayed. Maybe, just maybe, I have a chance. My father continues talking, and I have to fight to pay attention. “The trial for Casey Purcell’s killer is in a week or two. She said she’d at least stay until after the trial.”

  “Where is she now?” My nerves are on edge, and I shake my right leg, the anticipation burning a hole inside me.

  He cuts me a sideways glance and smirks, his eyes twinkling with mirth at my expense. “She’s at our house, waiting to welcome you home.”

  Rubbing my chin as I grin briefly, I quickly wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I take a deep breath and prepare myself.

  Don’t fuck this up, George.

  “Cameron, if you eat one more of those ham biscuits I will strangle you!” Beverly yells as Cameron flees the dining room, where a meal fit for kings is spread out on the McDermotts’ large table.

  Sniper, Anna, and I chuckle as Cameron shoves another biscuit in his mouth as he rushes by us.

  “I’ll be back for the cookies,” he mumbles around the food in his mouth, although it’s barely audible.

  “They are bloody good,” Sniper says. “Beverly used to send Ike care packages with them. Greedy bastard would only give me one or two.”

  “Are you nervous?” Anna whispers as she loops her arm with mine. Since the night Roger and George fought, Sniper has kept her abreast of my gift and all the events that transpired between Ike, George, and I. She accepted it rather easily, and we’ve become very close since.

  “Extremely,” I answer honestly as she leads me onto the front porch. I’ve waited for George for the past month knowing my feelings for him have not changed. I’m just not sure how he’ll react to me being here. What if he changed his mind about us while in rehab? Regardless of the butterflies in my stomach, I’m so proud of him for going to rehab, for wanting to get better. And if I’m being honest, it gave me a chance to get myself together, too. I was devastated after Ike left, and I needed some time to cope. My heart still hurts every day for Ike, but slowly, it’s getting better. My hope is George and I can move on from here. But deep inside there’s a fear that maybe he won’t feel the same. Maybe he won’t want me anymore.

  “Well you look fabulous,” she says, as she bumps my shoulder with hers; bringing me out of my thoughts. Of course I do; Anna dressed me. I’m wearing a burgundy dress with three-quarter sleeves and tights with boots. Anna put my hair in a high ponytail and I’m wearing a little more makeup than I usually do. But even the cutest outfit and makeup can’t cover the dread I’m feeling inside.

  “They’re pulling in,” Cameron announces as he steps out on the porch and nods his head in the direction of the driveway. And my heart skips a beat. Beverly and Sniper join us on the porch, and Cameron wraps an arm around Beverly’s shoulders and kisses her temple when she becomes teary-eyed. Sniper takes my hand and squeezes it, giving me a wink; letting me know everything will be all right. Breathe, Charlotte.

  When Henry parks his car, I once again have to remind myself to breathe. I’m so damn nervous my legs are shaking. Having my legs give out on me would not be good right now. Sniper, Anna, Cameron, and Beverly fly off the porch and surround George the moment he steps foot out of the car. I can barely see him as he’s lost in the tiny crowd surrounding him. After a few moments, they seem to break and his gorgeous, dark eyes meet mine, sucking the breath right out of me. They’re clearer now, and not so foreboding. As the others chitchat amongst themselves, he slips away and walks toward me. My heart hammers in my chest as he watches me with every step he takes. He looks amazing, so much better than when I last saw him. He’s put on a little weight, filled out a little more, and his hair is trimmed. Light panting breaths release from my mouth as I will myself to stand still. When he finally reaches me, he takes my hand and runs his thumb over the back of it. Caressing it lightly.

  He worries his bottom lip for a few seconds as he stares down at me. “How are you?” he asks, his voice deep and husky, making my insides curl.

  “I’m good,” I manage after a beat. “How are you?” I add. “Y-you look really good, George,” I finish in a nervous stutter.

  He smiles and nods in agreement. “That’s because I’m clean.”

  The others sidle by us, quietly, all of them giving quick, knowing glances. It’s no secret to anyone George and I have some things to work out, and it makes my heart burst with happiness that they’re all rooting for us. It’s nice to know I finally feel at home here, and they want to see us happy and together.

  Once they’re all inside, George remains steady and continues to hold my hand. He pulls me toward him and slams my body to his. I tense for a moment from shock, but quickly mold to him as I tentatively wrap my arms around his neck. He holds me to him, tightly, breathing into my neck. And it feels amazing. My chest presses firmly against his. The electricity between us is palpable. A long minute passes where neither of us says a word. When his mouth finally finds my ear he whispers, “I’ve missed you like crazy. I gotta spend some time here with everyone, but I’d like it if we could leave together afterwards. I need to tell you some things. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” I whisper, still holding onto him for dear life. He doesn’t let me go, and I’m not sure how long we’d remain standing here if not for Cameron popping his head out and clearing his throat.

  “I hate to break up this lovers’ moment, or whatever this is,” he motions his hand wildly in our direction, “but Mom says we can’t eat until you two come in. A
nd I’m a growing boy,” he adds. “I need to eat.”

  George snorts as he pulls away from me and turns his head to Cameron. “We’ll be right in.” Cameron, satisfied with this, leaves us and George’s gaze finds mine. “Just in case I forget to tell you later, you look beautiful tonight, Charlotte.”

  Warmth crawls up my neck and covers my cheeks as his heated stare stays focused on mine. Before I respond, I look down and realize he’s wearing my brother’s necklace. My fingers brush over it softly as I smile. “You’re wearing it.”

  Swallowing hard, he takes my hand and presses it to his chest. “I have your brother’s necklace, and you have my brother’s tags.” Then he tilts his face down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling me inside to join the others for dinner.

  Dinner went great. Everyone laughed and reminisced, and when the subject of Ike came up, George asked me questions about my time with him, and I take that as a good sign. When I became teary-eyed, he’d handed me his napkin to wipe my face and squeezed my leg under the table to comfort me. George told us about his struggles with addiction, how and why he thinks he came to be in that bad spot in his life, and he apologized to all of us for any hurtful things he may have said or done.

  When the evening ends, we all collect our coats and before I step outside, Beverly pulls me into her arms and hugs me tightly. “Thank you for saving my son,” she whispers before kissing my cheek. I smile at her but I know George decided to go to rehab on his own; that’s something I can’t take credit for.

  “You two be safe tonight,” Cameron winks as he gives George a one-shouldered hug. “And by safe I mean—”

  “Cameron,” Beverly warns.

  “What?” Cameron feigns ignorance. “I was going to say wear your seatbelts—by safe I meant wear your seatbelts. What did you . . . ? Oh, Mom, come on. Dad, we’ve gotta do something about this woman’s gutter mind. She’s a bad influence on me.”