Now She's Gone: A Novel

by Kim Corum

  Now it wasn’t a request. It was a demand. I didn’t mind. I leaned over and fetched it out of my pants and handed it to her.

  She propped herself up on her elbow and began to go through it. She cracked up at my driver’s license picture and squealed, “You look like an inmate!” She nodded with approval at my CPR card. She counted my money, checked out my credit cards and then handed it back.

  I waited. I knew there would be something else. There always was with her.

  “Where’s your checkbook?” she asked.

  “My what?”

  “Your checkbook. Where is it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s in the kitchen.”

  She eyed me and I got up and retrieved it. She looked through it and handed it back.

  “I want you to go get me half of what’s in there,” she said.

  “You do?”

  She nodded.

  “Right now?”

  She nodded. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  I groaned and got up, bent and picked up my pants. She let me get dressed and I was headed out the door when she burst into laughter.

  “I was only joking! God, Bruce!”

  I had felt like a fool! A fool! I’m surprised she didn’t let me go all the way to the bank.

  I turned and said, “I want to look in your wallet.”

  She grinned and said, “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.”

  That’s when I knew I couldn’t live without her. That’s why I had to find her. She had my heart and I had to find her to get it back.

  Just then, the doorbell went off. I jerked around and stared in the direction of the front door, then back at the journal. Fuck. Who the hell could that be? I got up and went to it. It was Eric, my business partner and the guy who told Sandy I wanted her number at the strip club. He’s a good guy. I’d known him since we shared a dorm room our first year of college.

  He grinned at me. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey,” I said and stepped aside to let him in.

  He entered and looked around as he made his way into the living room. “The maid on vacation?”

  I looked around at the mess. I shrugged.

  “Sandy would shit if she saw this mess,” he said.

  “Sandy’s not here.”

  He turned and held up his hands. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know. Don’t sweat it,” I said and headed into the kitchen. “You want a beer?”

  He shrugged and looked at his watch. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Come on,” I said and went into the kitchen.

  He followed me and looked around. “I always thought this was the best kitchen you ever designed.”

  I looked around, up at the high ceiling, then at the white marble tile and the stainless steel counters. I had to admit, it was some of my best work.

  “Yeah,” I said and opened the refrigerator. “What kind of beer do you want?”

  He came over behind me and cracked up. I had about twelve six packs of every beer imaginable.

  “Give me that one, man,” he said, chuckling and pointing. “You having a party?”

  “Not anytime soon, I’m not,” I said and handed him the beer, then got one for myself. “You want a glass?”

  “Nah,” he said and held it up. “I’ll just drink it from the bottle.”

  It was just as well. I didn’t have any clean ones. I uncapped mine and held it up, “Bottom’s up.”

  “Bottom’s up.”

  We took a sip then I motioned him out of the kitchen and into the living room. As I cleared a space for him on the couch, I noticed all of Sandy’s journals on the coffee table. I didn’t try to hide them.

  He looked around and said, “So, what have you been doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You coming back to work?”

  I shrugged. “Do I need to?”

  “Nah. Everything’s cool. You could easily not work another day in your life and still be set.”

  I nodded. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

  “I just thought you should know some of our better clients have been asking about you. You were always the best one of us.”

  I nodded and took a sip of beer, then lit a cigarette. I offered him the pack and he took one. I lit it for him.

  “Thanks,” he said and leaned back into the couch. As much as he could lean back. It was an ultra modern Italian leather couch. Not much cushion but a lot of style. Sandy hated it. “I like the way it looks, but it’s uncomfortable as hell!” She preferred the den where we had a big sectional that you just sink into when you sit down. She rarely sat in the living room. The fact that there wasn’t a TV in the living room might have been one of the reasons.

  “So how have things been with you?” I asked.

  “Let’s cut the shit, Bruce.”

  I nodded.

  “I came here to see how you are. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He eyed me. “You haven’t shaved in, what, four weeks?”

  “Right,” I said and scratched my bearded chin. I hadn’t shaved in a while and didn’t plan to for another while.

  “You haven’t worked out, either, I can tell.”

  I shrugged. “What’s the use?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re turning to flab.”

  I glanced at myself in the gigantic mirror we had propped on the floor. I was looking sort of jowly. Maybe I should cut back on the beer and start working out a little. But then again, why should I bother?

  “You look like hell, Bruce.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “Ah, man, don’t. Don’t pull that passive aggressive shit with me!”

  “I’m not.”

  “This isn’t you. You’re not indifferent. If you have anything to say, you can tell me. I’m your best friend.”

  I nodded. He was.

  “You never want to go out. You stay home all alone all day doing God knows what. You’re going to go crazy.”

  “What is this? An intervention?”

  “Do you need one?”

  “No,” I said and crossed my arms.

  “Sure? You look crazy.”

  I said calmly, “When I’m ready, I’ll be back. You can rest assured.”

  “And when is that going to be? A year? Two?”

  “Is the firm falling apart?” I asked.

  “Well, no, it isn’t, but—”

  “When it starts to fall apart, let me know. And I’ll be there to fix it. Until then, leave me the fuck alone. I started that firm by myself, if you will recall, without your or anyone else’s help. I took out loans I had no idea how I was going to pay back. I did things I said I’d never do to make it as successful as it is. And now I’m taking a fucking break. You don’t like it? Get your ass out. You didn’t show up until it started to show a profit anyway.”

  He nodded. I was right. I had to do everything myself.

  I added, “If you can’t handle running it, let me know and I will find someone who can.”

  “I appreciate that, Bruce, but I am not here as a business partner. I am here as a friend.”

  “Then stay out of my business.”

  He was biting his tongue, I could just tell. I knew why he was here. Move on! Get on with your life! She’s gone! Give it up! And I would. When I was ready. I knew one day I would be ready to let her go. That day hadn’t arrived yet, but when it did, I’d be done with her. And I knew it. And I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him.

  He said, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “No, Eric,” I said. “It’s not so bad. Not really. Knowing the woman you loved and trusted didn’t love or trust you back is actually a good thing.”

  “Don’t pull that shit with me. You’re dying inside.”

  “No, not really.”

  “Yeah, you are. What’s it been? Two, three months?”

  “No, it’s been longer than that. Over six now.”

  “Is it getting easier?”

  “Is w
hat getting easier?” I asked and stared at him.

  “Living without her.”

  I looked away and all of a sudden I felt myself throw the beer up against the wall. The bottle didn’t break; it only dented the wall and fell to the floor. Beer poured out and onto the dark oak floor.

  I turned back to him and said, “Yeah. It’s getting easier every day.”

  He looked shocked. “Jesus Christ.”

  “That’s how I feel, Eric. Right now. I’m pissed off. Maybe in a few hours, I’ll break down and cry. Maybe I won’t. I might sleep till noon tomorrow and I might not. I might wake up and want to die instead. I might not. That’s how I feel. It changes.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  I put my cigarette out and lit another one. “Listen, man, I know why you’re here. I know what you’re doing and I really appreciate it. But this isn’t really something you can help me with.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever get over her?”

  I eyed him. I almost wanted to hit him, but then I almost wanted to hug him. He knew me better than I knew myself and he knew the questions to ask that would get me interested enough to answer. He didn’t beat around the bush.

  “No,” I said truthfully. “I won’t. I mean, I will move on. Eventually. Not anytime soon, but eventually. But I’ve got a hole in my heart right now and when it heals, there’s gonna be a scab.”

  He almost smiled at me and said, “I’m not here to say anything about Sandy, but I do want you to know as far as I know, she loved you. She really loved and cared about you.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Did that private detective ever call you?”

  I took a hit off my cigarette and said, “No. He’s still looking. Not much to go on, you know?”

  “Right,” he said and put his cigarette out.

  I eyed him and decided to test him, “So why do you think she left?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t ever tell. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “You always had a crush on her, didn’t you?”

  He was taken aback, I could tell. But my suspicions were confirmed. He’d always liked her a little too much. He was always a little too nice to her. But how I really knew about his feelings was by the gifts he’d buy her for her birthday. They were always expensive little knickknacks, once a crystal egg which had to cost him a fortune. Sandy had been clueless to his feelings and told me when she got it, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing? Why would he buy something like this?”

  I just shrugged and let it go. She’d taken the egg with her when she left, along with his other gifts.

  I told him, “It’s okay, man, lots of men dug her. You can’t marry someone with an ass like hers and expect that no one will notice it just because you put a ring on her finger.”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, only sat there and tried to gather his dignity. Then he blurted, “She called me.”

  “What?” I said and jumped out of my seat. “Where is she?”

  “She didn’t say. Her number came up unlisted on my cell.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She asked about you. She asked how you were and I told her you were fine and she said ‘thank you very much’ and before I could say another word, she hung up.”

  “Is that all?”

  He nodded. “That’s all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now,” he said and took a sip of beer.

  “When did she call?”

  “Last night. About midnight.”

  “Shit,” I said and my emotions began to run rampant inside me. “Oh, fuck! I know what she’s doing! She knew you’d tell me to make me suffer more.”

  He stared at his shoes.

  “Why can’t she call me? Why didn’t she call me and ask me how I am?”

  “Like I said, she’s probably got her reasons.”

  I glared at him. “Stop protecting her. That’s my job.”

  “Get a grip, Bruce. You’re right. She called me so you’ll keep hanging on. I almost didn’t want to tell you but here you are looking like a fucking lunatic. She’s fine, okay? She sounded fine! Stop worrying about her and move on with your life!”

  “It’s just not like her to do something like this. She’s never played games with me.”

  “Bullshit. She’s played you since the day you met her.”

  I was on him before he could blink. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up off the couch.

  “You don’t know what goes on between people, asshole,” I hissed. “And don’t think you know what went on between us. Got it?”

  He didn’t back down. “Fuck you, Bruce. If you want to sit around here and die, then be my guest. She’s gone and she isn’t coming back. And if she does, she won’t be the same.”

  “You know what? You’re an asshole!”

  “No, you’re the asshole!” he yelled and caught his breath. “Bruce, we all loved her! I loved her! Why do you think I’m not married? I stood around for years and waited for you two to break up.”

  He stopped and shook his head. I shoved him away from me.

  “Look at me! When I heard about her leaving, I broke down and cried like a fucking baby! All these years watching you two fall deeper and deeper in love has turned me to shit! And for what? Nothing!”

  I told him, “You’re a fucking asshole!”

  “Maybe I am. But the point is, she could be off with someone, Bruce. She could get any damn man she wanted and the problem is, she knows it. And you’re sitting here letting this shit eat you alive. No fucking woman is worth that!”

  God, I hated to admit it, but the bastard was right. She could be fucking some other man right now. Moaning his name. It made so angry to think of her giving herself to someone besides me.

  “I had one afternoon with her,” he said. “No, nothing like that, don’t even think I’d do that to you. I came over to see you and you were out. And we sat around and watched TV. I sat here all afternoon and listened to her talk about nothing, never once got the courage up to touch her. We ate popcorn and waited for you to come home. It was one of the best afternoons in my life! That’s how pathetic I am!”

  I looked away from him.

  “And that’s all I had, Bruce! You had ten years. I had an afternoon. Consider yourself lucky. Even if she had her faults, you’re better off.”

  He started out of the room. I watched him go.

  He stopped at the door. “I don’t hate her. I hate what she’s done to you, that’s all.”

  I glared at the wall.

  “I won’t come by here again and bother you anymore,” he said. “If you want me, you know my number. Otherwise, go fuck yourself.”

  And with that, he left. I wished he had never come.

  His Mother Hated Me

  “Hey You!

  I hate that. ‘Hey You!’ It’s so stupid sounding. Fuck it. I’m not putting it in anymore.

  Anyway.

  That’s how safe I felt with Bruce. How much I trusted him. After our first date, I didn’t see any reason why we shouldn’t live together. I knew he’d be over every night anyway.

  And it would kill my mother.

  I didn’t really plan on marrying Bruce. I still had this idea of moving to LA.”

  There it was again, LA! I would have to tell the private detective to check there. Maybe I’d go myself and stay a few days. Maybe. I thought about it. Maybe not.

  What if she doesn’t want to be found?

  I stopped reading and looked up. Who cares what she wants? I had to see her. I knew I should just stop caring and move on, but I had to see her at least one more time. When I saw her, I’d tell her how I felt. When I saw her, I’d…

  I’d probably break down and cry like a little girl. God! I hated this shit. I went back to reading.

  “I liked him a lot at first and knew it was only a matter of time before I fell in love. I didn’t know if I wanted that or not. Two broken heart
s were enough at that point. He was so good looking and successful that women would flock to him. It was worse than it had been with Wayne and Frank. I handled it better, but it still ate me up to think that he might sometimes look back at them at the women who flirted with him.

  I am so glad I’m over stupid shit like that now. But, him being perfect would really please my mother and that I didn’t want. I wanted to torment her a little. So, I begged him to tell her that he was some sort of a bum. Or that he fixed motorcycles or something for a living. Maybe he could be a tattoo artist. He was perfect and everything she would have wanted for me. And I just didn’t want to give it to her! I mean, I wanted him, but I didn’t want her to know he was this perfect man, the whole package, as they say, so she could pat herself on the back about it.

  He did it! He told her he was a mechanic. She shook her head and later tried to get me to break up with him. I refused. When she found out he was this ultra-successful architect and that he’d started his own company, she just said, ‘I knew you’d find a good one, Sandy! I just knew it! Hold onto him!’

  That’s the only thing I didn’t like about Bruce—the fact that my mother loved him.”

  That was just like her.

  “I told him I was just the cocktail waitress at the club and he bought it. I said something like, ‘It’s easier than in a real bar and the tips are better and I have to pay for school.’ I wasn’t in school, but that’s what I said. I think I could have told him anything, come to think about it, and he would have bought it.

  I know enough about men to know what they think of strippers. They’ve got no respect for any woman who’d take off her clothes for money. Even as open-minded as he was, he wouldn’t have even considered asking me out if I had been on that stage that night stripping.”

  She was wrong. I would have groveled at her feet and she knew it. And yeah, I did figure it out. She made a little too much money being a “cocktail waitress.” It bothered me at first, but then again, if I had said anything, she might have taken it the wrong way and broken up with me. I accepted it as I accepted her. Besides, what guy wouldn’t want to be with a hot stripper?

  “But I didn’t really want a relationship. He was so right for me, but I still had that stupid idea of moving to LA, maybe looking Frank up and trying my luck at acting. I told him all this, leaving the Frank part out, of course.