Crossing Paths

by Melanie Stinnett

  I tried to call June all week to see what made her leave. When I finally got in touch with her yesterday, she obviously knew my brother was married, but it was difficult to get any more information out of her. I’m just hoping that when I get home she will open up about the whole situation. She said she’s not mad at me, but I wouldn’t blame her if she stayed upset for a while. I still think I did the right thing, but sometimes, the right and the wrong solutions don’t give very different outcomes.

  Feeling a hand rest on my shoulder, I look up to see Liam smiling sweetly down at me. “You ready? I think it’s time to go,” Liam asks.

  “Sure. Cohen, do you want to ride with us?”

  “No, Julie’s parents should be here soon. I’m going to ride with them. I’ll see you there.”

  I give his hand a quick squeeze and then he shakes Liam’s hand. Liam and I walk out the front door and head to the vehicle with my parents. Liam and I sit in the backseat of my mom’s car. He holds my hand the whole way, and I am lost in bliss. I do feel a tinge of sadness that Julie will never meet Liam. She always wanted me to find someone special.

  Saturday

  Riding in the backseat of Julie’s parents’ car reminds me of our first date.

  We called it a real date although her parents were with us the whole time. They even sat next to us during the movie. Our hands rested on the cup holder in between us. We eventually got up the nerve to hold hands, but no other portion of our bodies touched during the entire movie. Our palms were sweaty, and I had to drop her hand to wipe mine on my jeans several times.

  It’s hard to say whether my nerves would have been better if her parents had at least sat on a different row. As I wipe my sweaty palms on my black slacks now, I look over to the empty seat next to me, remembering the love Julie and I shared. It was wonderful and short-lived, but it was worth every minute.

  We pull into the parking lot of the church. Laura leads me to a side door where the minister greets us. I give him a quick handshake and head into the small hallway. Flowers and potted plants line the room, and I wonder why they haven’t placed them in the church. As I walk around the corner, the sanctuary comes into view, and I quickly realize that there is no more room. Colorful flowers, potted plants, small figurines, teddy bears, and cards fill the front area. An easel, holding a large picture of Julie, sits beside her casket.

  I stop in my tracks, staring at the open lid. Can I handle this? I close my eyes, bend my neck from side to side, and take in a series of deep breaths.

  “Son, you don’t have to go right now. We can just sit,” Julie’s dad says to me, placing his arm around my shoulders.

  Even after everything, he still calls me son. After the accident, I often wondered if he would stop referring to me as his son and begin using my given name again. If I were to tell the truth, I thought they would disown me completely. At this point, I’m not sure what value I bring to their lives, except for pain and suffering.

  We sit on the second pew, reserved for family, and I continue to stare at the open lid. All at once, it beckons me and disgusts me. I have been through every emotion since Wednesday. After we realized Julie wouldn’t be recovering, I went through the stages of grieving, but a therapist once told me that I would likely go through them again when her death became final. I wonder what stage I’ve returned to now.

  After forty-five minutes of staring at the open lid and feeling people file in around me, I decide to see her again. I walk alone, placing one foot in even steps before the other, to the front of the sanctuary. Why this room can’t have a different name during sad events, I’m not sure. This room is nothing like a sanctuary to me. I have no peace and no rest. It doesn’t provide me with shelter or refuge. Instead, in this moment, I feel like an animal being viewed from a distance. I can feel everyone’s eyes on my back as her face comes into view.

  She is pale and beautiful with her golden hair falling softly over her shoulders. They have chosen to put her in a white-and-yellow gown as if she were just sleeping. Her favorite color was yellow. The gold band that I gave her when I proposed still fits around her ring finger although it’s very loose.

  As I look down to my left hand, I realize I didn’t wear my ring today. Closing my eyes, I try to push out the thoughts of what others will think. They will just have to understand. If they want the truth, I haven’t worn my ring consistently for over a year.

  I reach out to Julie’s face and brush my hand against her cheek lightly. Once I feel that I have gazed at her for long enough, I return to my seat and continue staring straight ahead.

  Soon, the service begins. We have it all planned out. The preacher speaks, music plays, and people sing. Then, it’s time for the part I am dreading the most—they call on me to speak. I stand tall and walk up the steps to the podium. When I adjust the microphone, it squeals loudly for a moment. I see a few people cringe at the sound, but most people just continue to look at me with what I see as mixed emotions of pity and distaste.

  Placing my notes on the flat wooden space, I begin. “Julie was my wife for ten years.”

  Breathe.

  “From the moment she entered my life when I was ten years old, she captured me.”

  Breathe.

  “When I turned sixteen, she missed my birthday party, but later, she brought me a cupcake decorated like a baseball. Many of you have had her cupcakes, so you know that from that moment on, my heart was hers.”

  I don’t look up to see a reaction. Breathe.

  “We got married young and struggled through college together. Well, I guess she plowed through school and started a career while I struggled through college. She was always supportive, always giving of herself. She loved her job. She loved making something that people could enjoy during special times in their lives.”

  This next part is going to be hard to say out loud. I close my eyes and steel myself against the hurt. “A little over two years ago, her accident was the worst night of my life. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough to her for letting her leave the house alone that night. I loved her very much. I loved her with my whole heart. I will miss her smile and gentle attitude for the rest of my life. I know you share in this loss, and I thank you for giving your time to honor her memory.”

  I have three more paragraphs written on the paper, but instead of going on, I fold it up and begin to walk off the stage. I chance a quick look through the crowd as I step down the stairs.

  She’s here. Instantly, my shoulders relax, and I find a small smile to send her way.

  Saturday

  My eyes are filled with tears as he speaks. Between Texas and this pew, I have questioned why I decided to come here a million times, but for some reason, my body just kept moving forward. To avoid any fuss over my arrival, I didn’t call Liam or Caroline to tell them I would be here. Selfishly, I wanted to hear his good-bye to her, so I could know a little more of the truth.

  As he begins to speak, I can hear his voice shaking. His words are succinct and to the point. He adds no unnecessary meaning to anything. He gives tribute, apologies, and thanks. Then, he is done. He never looks up from the podium as he speaks, and I am fairly certain he won’t see me. When he nears the final step, he lifts his head a fraction of an inch and instantly catches my eyes.

  My body goes warm, and I wish there was a way to hide the blush that is creeping up my body to my face. His shoulders straighten slightly, and I think he’s smiling. I give a weak grin, worrying about what others around me might think if they notice his gesture. After all, we are at his wife’s funeral.

  I can see the back of Caroline’s and Liam’s heads. They don’t turn. After a few more songs, a slideshow begins. While I know I should probably stick around and at least say something to my best friend and my brother, I see this as a good time to get away since everyone is focused on the beautiful pictures of her beautiful life.

  I slip out of the back pew and walk into the restroom. I’m staring at my image in the mirror, trying to accept the kno
wledge of what I now know. His wife was hurt over two years ago, and she died last week. He wasn’t wearing a ring when we met, and he didn’t wear a ring today. He loved her. I could see it in his eyes. He adored her. But then, why me? Why did he want me if he loved her?

  I can hear the voices of people as they leave the sanctuary. I want to avoid running into anyone, so I leave quickly and head to my rental car. While stepping into the driver’s side, I begin to think about why I came here. I didn’t come to simply attend a funeral and then run away. I came to take a chance, hoping that Cohen might be willing to tell me his side of the story.

  Looking down to the funeral program in my lap, I turn it over and find the address to where family and friends will be gathering to visit after the service.

  Sitting in the car on the side of the road outside of her house, I start to wonder what I was thinking. I turn on some music and let the sounds and lyrics wash over me as I decide what I should do.

  After about forty-five minutes, I see Cohen get out of a car with a man and a woman who I assume are Julie’s parents. Not too long after, Caroline and Liam arrive and walk into the house.

  Is it wrong of me to be here? Will people think I’m being disrespectful? Maybe I should go back to Vivian’s house and wait for Caroline and Liam there. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest.

  “June?”

  I hear a soft knock on the glass. Opening my eyes, I see Vivian. “Oh, hi. I was just leaving. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. Please come in and eat with us. I know Caroline and your brother will be glad to see you.”

  I agree and begin to get out of the car. My legs feel shaky, and I’m more nervous than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  She walks me around the back of the house. Leaning in close to my ear, she says, “Cohen will be glad to see you, too. Why don’t you sit in one of the patio chairs on the deck? I’ll go find Caroline and Liam.”

  No one is outside, but I can hear people talking just inside the doors.

  I sit for what feels like an eternity before I see the door begin to open.

  Cohen steps through the doorway, holding a glass in each hand. He blinks at me a few times, as if trying to make sure his vision is clear. After a few moments, he extends one glass to me, and I sit there, my body frozen.

  “It’s just iced tea,” he says.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asks in return, placing the glass on the small table beside me.

  “Well, um…I-I don’t know.”

  “You flew across the country, and you don’t know why you’re here?”

  I shrug in response, and he moves to sit in a chair a few feet in front of me.

  “Please tell me you came to let me explain.” His expression is soft and hopeful.

  “Sort of,” is all I can say.

  We sit for a few minutes, sip our tea, and look out on the perfect backyard of Julie’s parents’ house. I’m beginning to feel a little awkward with the setting when Cohen speaks.

  “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want to tell you everything.” He pauses, closes his eyes, and takes in a breath. “I want your forgiveness and understanding. I know I don’t deserve those things, but I want them because you are the first woman that has made me feel like love is a possibility again.”

  “I’m so sorry about Julie. You obviously loved her. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Why were you so sure you wanted to pursue me but so unsure about sharing this with me?”

  Cohen sighs heavily and leans forward with his elbows against his knees. He looks down at the wood planks of the deck. “My wife was a shell of a person after her accident. She never spoke a word, she never engaged with anyone, and she required care around the clock. Julie never responded when I kissed her or told her that I loved her. She never reached out for a hug when I walked in the door. She died during that accident, and from that moment, I grieved the loss of my wife.

  “For more than two years, I have blamed myself for that accident. I allowed Julie to leave the house that night. I was the reason the accident happened. I talked myself into believing that I lost my chance at a lifelong love because of what I had done…until your eyes met mine at that airport. With every page of the magazine that hit me and then with the force of your body against mine on those steps, you revived my heart. I began to see past what I had been through, and now, I can look forward to what could be.”

  “So, why did you leave before explaining any of this to me? Why didn’t you tell me you were Caroline’s brother?”

  “I don’t know how it got past me, but I didn’t make the connection that you were Caroline’s friend at first. When I did realize, I wasn’t sure how to tell you without sharing everything…and I wasn’t ready to share it all. Then, I got the call that Julie was sick. I felt like I needed to tell her and her family that I was ready to move on. I needed to have her blessing even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear or understand me.”

  We sit again in silence. I’m contemplating everything I know now, and I’m trying to make sense of how I feel about it all.

  “So, what does this mean?” I ask.

  “June, I haven’t allowed myself to feel many happy emotions. Like I said, I grieved the loss of my wife over two years ago, and it feels like the grief owned me the whole time. If you’ll let me, I want to let go of that grief and try to find something happy with you,” he says, standing and pulling me to my feet.

  As he cups my cheek in his hand, I lean into his touch.

  “I don’t know, Cohen. It’s so much to take in, and you still live across the country.”

  “I can be anywhere. Don’t let the distance be what stops us. Please…just give us a chance.”

  I close my eyes, and feel him pull me into his embrace. My hands surround his waist, and I bury my face into his chest as tears begin to fill my eyes. I’m full of so many emotions—sadness for the loss of Julie, happiness that Cohen and I might find a second chance, and nervousness about how all this will work out.

  We stand this way for a few minutes, enjoying a new moment together.

  When I hear the back door open, I try to pull away, but Cohen holds me tightly. Over his shoulder, I see Caroline and Liam walking onto the deck.

  “June, I’m so glad you came,” Caroline says, smiling.

  “Me, too,” I say, reaching my hand out to her.

  She runs to join our hug.

  Liam also comes toward us, and when he steps behind me, I feel his hands rub my shoulders gently.

  “Um, Caroline…I can’t breathe,” I say, laughing.

  “Oh, sorry.” She releases her arms and takes a small step back.

  She smiles at me as Liam returns to her side, and I can’t help but smile back.

  “We better get inside before people start to wonder where I am,” Cohen says, still holding me to his side.

  Hand in hand, Caroline and Liam walk back into the house. I tug at Cohen’s arm, keeping him outside for a moment longer.

  “Are you sure you want me here?”

  Cohen pulls me in front of him and places his hands on my cheeks. “I don’t want you anywhere else but near me. I should have never let you leave my side after the first day you crossed my path, and I don’t plan on letting it happen again.”

  Our journey to this point hasn’t been easy, but I’m starting to think easy might be overrated. I smile up at him, and together, we walk into the house.

  Four Months Later

  It’s November. I’m wearing short sleeves, and it’s freaking hot out here. Running my hand through my hair several times, I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my anxiety. With my other hand, I begin tugging on the bottom of my button-up shirt. I have to get rid of this nervous energy. Just walk forward, put one foot in front of the other, and walk up the steps. It won’t be that bad.

  I’ve visited Houston several times to see June, but this will be my first ti
me meeting her parents. Caroline told me about their Sunday dinners, so I flew in a day early to make sure I could be here. Knowing her entire family is aware of the difficulties we faced during the first few weeks after we met doesn’t help to calm my nerves.

  After another few seconds of delay, I force my legs to move. I step up to the front door and press my finger against the doorbell. Before I have a chance to swallow the lump forming in my throat, the door swings open to reveal a woman. She’s smiling at me as if I were presenting her with a check from the Publishers Clearing House.

  “You must be Cohen!”

  She rushes to where I’m standing and embraces me in a hug.

  “Um, yes, and you must be Mrs. Deckert.”

  “Don’t be silly. Call me Karen. Come on in.” She continues smiling as she steps through the open doorway and gestures into their home.

  “Cohen!” June exclaims.

  When she throws herself into my arms, I pull her in tight to my chest.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers in my ear.

  “Me, too.” I smile down at her, and for a moment, it’s as if we’re alone.

  During the past few months, we’ve taken the time to get to know each other better. When I’ve been able to, I work in Houston, and when I have to be in Seattle, we talk on the phone or video chat. Things haven’t been easy with our busy schedules, but we make time for each other. For me, it’s been worth the sacrifice. So far, she seems to feel the same way. It still amazes me every day that she decided to give our relationship a chance.

  Caroline breaks into my thoughts as she gives me a hard pat on the back. “Hey, brother. It’s about time you got here. I’m starving,” she says, walking toward the dining room.

  “Hello to you, too.” I laugh at her obvious comfort in June’s parents’ home.