by Marni Mann
“How did I get so fortunate to have you?”
“Whitney,” I said as loudly as I could, only above a whisper, “I’m the lucky one.”
Fifteen
Prior to the bombing, one month would have stood for thirty monotonous days, filled with meetings and mundane conversations, maybe a trip to a country far away. The month leading up to Whitney’s departure, I could break the time down into hours, remembering each one as it passed but all moving so quickly. I wanted to break the face of the clock just to make it stop ticking.
We spent as much time as we could together. Afternoons outside in the park, dinners on my balcony, nights in my bed. She told me about her fears, her inability of speaking Spanish, not having the proper tools and medicine to care for the patients, afraid she would lose them to the lack of resources. I confessed the challenges of the new rhythm I was trying to find at work, determining the space of the boundaries I was still setting, searching for the enjoyment that I’d felt in my twenties whenever I stepped off the elevator onto my floor.
One of us was being pulled by a west wind, the other by a strong east breeze, held together by a sea of emotions.
The future of our relationship was the one thing we didn’t discuss. It was clear neither of us knew what was going to happen, what life would look like from either side once she got on that plane. I certainly didn’t want to spend our last four weeks discussing scenarios and teary what-ifs. I wanted to hold her as close as possible, celebrating the time we had left.
But before I could even fully fill my lungs, we arrived at the finish line. Whitney told me she wanted to spend her last night with Emily, so the evening prior was ours. During the afternoon, I had Alfred drive us through the city, as though we were tourists, a last glimpse of our beautiful Boston. She clung to me in the backseat, my arm wrapped over her shoulders, as we passed landmarks she could grip in her memory as tightly as I was holding her. When she thought of home, I wanted her to remember it through my eyes, my descriptions, my voice.
He dropped us off at my condo for dinner. This wasn’t the first time I’d stood in my kitchen without the help of my walker, making something for us to eat. But it was the first time I’d ever attempted homemade sushi. When planning the final menu in my head, there was never a question of what it was going to be.
I spread out the rice, slicing the different fish, making a variety of rolls. Whitney sat at the island, watching me with a smile as I made a spread that we eventually ate on the balcony.
When she got up to get our bottle of wine from inside, I circled my hands around her thigh, stopping her from taking another step. I pressed my face into her navel, inhaling the scent of her skin.
Don’t go, I wanted to whisper.
But I stayed quiet, gazing up at that gorgeous face, hundreds of unspoken thoughts passing between us.
The impending uncertainty caused me to pull her closer, needing to feel the strength that had bonded us these last four months.
I couldn’t lift her into the air and carry her, hold her against a wall, or toss her onto a cushion—my back still too incredibly fragile. But I could clasp my fingers with hers and walk her into my room, turning when I reached the edge of the bed.
“I need you,” I whispered, devouring her lips.
She tugged my shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor, and I did the same with the small tank top she had on, our shorts and my boxer briefs following. I unhooked her bra and sat on the end of the bed to slip her panties down those stunning legs.
“Don’t move,” I said as she attempted to close the distance. “I want to look at you.”
As I admired her body, I memorized each curve even though I could see them with my eyes closed. I studied her hips and narrow waist, tits that my hands yearned to hold. I ended at her face, those full cheeks and pouty lips. A brown-blanket stare that ached as it covered me.
“You’re breathtaking.”
“Caleb,” she said in the softest tone, surrounding my neck, kissing me.
I wandered down her sides, gripping her ass, lowering until I reached the wetness of her pussy. She moaned as I rubbed her from this angle, her sounds telling me how badly she wanted me, the feel of her showing me she was ready.
I leaned back until I was lying on the bed and said, “Crawl to my face.”
Her knees hit the mattress, and she moved over me until her lips were inches above mine. I instantly swiped her with my tongue.
She fisted my hair, groaning, “Oh God.”
I needed her taste going down my throat, savoring her for as long as I could.
I slid two fingers into her, driving them in and out, using the same speed as my mouth. And while I flicked across her clit, I glanced up her body, watching her back arch, her hips shift with every beat.
Her hair was falling over her tits, the lights from outside revealing the beauty of her skin.
A vision I would never be able to unsee.
I swallowed the drips as they fell from her pussy, relishing her flavor, and just when I felt her start to climb, she was gliding down my torso.
She exhaled, “Now, I need you,” as she straddled my waist, my cock immediately plunging inside her.
“Whitney …” I hissed, grasping her. “Fuck me, you’re so wet.”
Her tightness clutched my shaft, squeezing me as she bucked over my lap.
If I attempted any movements, she would promptly stop me, so I sat up tall, taking in her eyes with my stare, and watched this exquisite woman make love to me.
She sank to the bottom of my base, grinding in a circle before rising to my tip. My arms wrapped around her, holding her as close as I could get her, enveloped in a way where I felt the deepest, most intimate parts of her.
“Caleb,” she roared, lips directly in front of mine, feeding me each inhale. My hand dropped down the front of her, brushing across her clit, listening to her scream, “Yesss!”
Her hips rocked over me, her pussy contracting more with each thrust. She was teasing my orgasm, bringing it closer to the surface with every dip.
And when I finally heard, “I’m going to come,” I started to explode.
Her pumps got faster, and she moaned, “Ahhh!”
That was when I lost control, nibbling on her neck before my mouth found hers. The second our lips touched, I panted, “Baby,” and emptied myself inside her.
I squeezed her with everything I had while she rode out the shudders passing through our bodies, each thrust only strengthening our grips.
When she finally stilled, she stayed on top of me, our chests aligned with sweat, our breaths in sync.
“Whitney …”
Still clinging to me, she whispered, “I know.”
Emotions bled from those simple acknowledgments, from our fingers biting into each other’s skin. Even though there was only silence in the room, words were being shared between us, ones that I’d never felt so loudly before.
Sixteen
Even though Whitney had spent last night with Emily, celebrating her final evening in Boston, I was taking her to the airport. Alfred placed her things in the trunk while she climbed into the backseat, my arm circling her waist, bringing her as close as possible.
She kissed me and rested her head on my shoulder, her warmth immediately covering me. “Hi.”
I took a minute to breathe her in, my eyes closing, my lips pressing into her hair. Even her shampoo smelled of coconuts. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’m positive I forgot to pack everything.” She tilted her neck to look at me. “Yes … but no.” There was grittiness in her voice that told me she’d been crying.
I’d thought about this moment for the last four weeks, what it would feel like when we were finally here, how difficult it would be to watch her leave. Now that the date had arrived, the countdown minutes away, it felt unfathomable. That when I went to sleep tonight, my arms wouldn’t be around her, and there would be a cold, empty side of the bed instead.
And that would
be true for the next twelve months.
“This is so hard,” she whispered, breaking a long pass of silence.
I pressed my nose into her cheek, signs for the airport in my peripheral vision.
“I knew it would be tough, but I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Her tone turned congested, signaling the tears weren’t far away. “First, Emily. Now, you.”
I squeezed her tighter, and Alfred pulled into the airport, taking the necessary turns to her departure terminal. He parked along the curb, where he set her things, and then he opened Whitney’s door and got back into the driver’s seat.
She gave me her hand and helped me onto the ground, and soon, we were standing on the narrow sidewalk, my fingers clasped with hers.
Her gorgeous eyes welled, each drip breaking my fucking heart. “I don’t know how to do this, Caleb.” She paused, biting her trembling lip. “Nothing I want to say seems right.”
As she inhaled, I surrounded her face, my lips against hers, tasting the saltiness as the tears dropped to my mouth.
When I pulled back, her eyes were telling me their own story. “I’ve fallen for you. Not tripped, not landed on my hands and skinned a knee. I’m talking completely, totally, head-over-heels … fallen.”
I kissed her again, swallowing her admission, each syllable adding to the chain that was clenching my chest.
“When will I see you?”
I shook my head, the answer so unknown.
Traveling on a flight that far, in a position that still caused me so much pain, wasn’t something I could consider at this point. If I gave her an approximation, I wanted to be able to deliver. I wasn’t the guy who was going to fill her with bullshit and renege.
“But you promise I’ll see you again?” When I didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Say the words, Caleb. I need to hear them.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You will.”
She stood on her toes and wrapped me in a hug, clinging to the back of my shirt with her hands.
“You need to be careful out there,” I said. “Those villages aren’t Mass General.”
“Of course.”
I held her so tightly that I wasn’t sure she could breathe. “If I can’t be there to protect you, I need to know you’re going to be all right.”
“I’ll be fine—that I can promise.”
As I captured her lips, I felt a rattle in her arms and a quiver in her navel. “Baby, you’re going to do amazing things for those countries. I’m already so incredibly proud of you.”
“I wouldn’t have had the courage to go if it wasn’t for you. And aside from this”—she touched the spot over my heart—“that’s the biggest gift you’ve given me.”
I lifted her fingers, kissing each knuckle. “I had Alfred put something in your bag. It’s small, nothing extravagant.” I kept her hand up to my face, the softness of her skin brushing my lips. “Since your journal was filled with cities you wanted to see, I gave you one that’s for the places you’ll be visiting. Write about your experiences, the beauty you see while you’re there.” Something began to chew away at my stomach. “Maybe, one day, I’ll get to read those words.”
“Caleb …” She clutched my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.
“I don’t want to let you go.” Emotion was clawing up my body. “I want to kiss you tomorrow morning while you’re sleeping on my chest and sweep your long hair off your cheeks.” The feeling reached my throat, burrowing there, not going any further. “And I want to cook dinner for us in the evening and have you climb on top of me after, giving me that beautiful body of yours.”
“Oh God,” she cried.
I loosened my grip, reclining her back so I could take in her eyes. “I love you, Whitney.”
The tears reached her chin and weren’t slowing. “I love you.” She held me tightly, her whole body now shaking.
I cupped her face, studying a gaze I knew as well as my own. “When I met you in the emergency room, your brown eyes were the only things that gave me hope.” I pressed my nose to hers. “And when I look at you now, that’s all I see.”
“I pray that hope is strong enough to get us through this.”
I kissed her one final time, and in a voice that burned, I said softly, “Good-bye, Whitney.”
She shook her head. “I can’t say that back to you; it hurts too much.”
She gathered her things that Alfred had placed on the curb and stepped toward the terminal. When she was only feet from the door, she turned around, watching me with eyes that watered. Her hand lifted into the air, and she waved, blowing me a kiss before she headed into the entrance.
“Don’t go,” I whispered as she walked through. “Whitney, don’t leave me.”
But she continued, disappearing through the tinted glass.
I backed up until I felt the SUV behind me, my focus never leaving the entrance, waiting for her to come through it and rush into my arms again. I searched the faces of everyone who passed by, hope building each time until I realized they weren’t her.
I didn’t know how long I stayed there, but at some point, I climbed into the backseat and closed the door, my eyes still on the same spot.
“Would you like me to take you home?” Alfred asked.
“In a minute. I want to see if she changes her mind.”
I continued staring.
Hoping.
“Caleb,” Alfred said, “I don’t think she’s coming back.”
I slammed my hand into the seat in front of me, gripping the leather, shaking it. “But I love her, Alfred! I love her, and she’s fucking leaving!” I banged it with my fist. “Goddamn it!” The emotion finally rose above my throat, burning as it fell from my eyes.
Alfred squeezed my arm. “I think she might have left you something on her seat.”
I hadn’t noticed the folded piece of paper with my name written on the front. When I opened it, there was the list of goals she had made when I got out of the hospital. We’d checked off every line, accomplishing each one during our time together.
Except for the item on the bottom that she had added without my knowledge.
Visit Whitney in Peru.
That was the moment when I knew she wasn’t coming back.
“What can I do to help?” Alfred asked.
I swallowed, taking several breaths, and wiped my face. “You can get me the hell out of here.”
“Right away.”
I held the paper against my chest, watching Boston through the glass of the backseat, eventually rolling down the window. The summer air was warm against my face, but there was a breeze coming in.
Just like the wind.
The one I’d felt at the finish line.
But this time, I remembered the darkness, and it hurt more than anything.
Part Two
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
Except they’ve never felt pain like mine …
Seventeen
Whitney
April 15, 2013
“On your days off, how do you manage to make everything look so freaking cute?” Emily, my best friend, asked from the doorway of my bedroom. “Like that hat, for example, which would make my ears stick out like an elephant.”
“Oh, stop it.” I tucked the bottom of my jeans into a pair of UGGs, fixing the collar of my chunky sweater on the way up, and moved in front of the full-length mirror. “You’re the epitome of cute.” Several hairs had come out of my messy braid, and I shoved them back into the folds along with the ones that had escaped my pink Red Sox hat.
“Now, I know you’re drunk.”
I laughed, swiping away a mascara flake that had fallen to my cheek. “Not even close.”
“Are you almost ready?” When I nodded, she added, “I’m going to grab my purse. Meet me in the kitchen.”
“I’ll be there in two seconds.”
She left, and I gave myself a final once-over, making sure the top came down low enough and the
jeans didn’t look foolish with the boots. Satisfied, I slung my bag across my body and met Emily in the kitchen, looping arms as we headed to the elevator.
Since the bar we were going to was in the Back Bay and we lived in the West End, near my job at Mass General, we took the train. It was completely packed, and Emily and I crammed into a small pocket by one of the doors.
“Thank God,” she sighed as we got off at our stop. “I’m pretty sure the man next to us was trying to swallow me with his armpit. And let me tell you, the scent wasn’t kind. At all.”
“We’ll get you some beer, and you’ll forget all about it.”
Her blonde hair blew in my face as we rushed up the stairs of the train station and hurried down the crowded sidewalk and into the bar. We stood in the entryway, looking for Fiona and Rebecca—nurses I worked with at the hospital—and I spotted them at a table toward the middle of the room.
“My God, the city is busy today,” I said, hugging Rebecca.
“Of course it is. We can expect nothing less,” she replied. “Have you taken a look around in here? It’s insane.”
Emily and I were fortunate that our girls lived in this section of town and came to this bar all the time, convincing one of the waitresses they were friendly with to reserve us a table.
Fiona and I kissed cheeks, and I sat on one of the open stools, next to Emily, beers already waiting for us on the high-top.
“You guys are good,” I said, lifting the cold bottle in the air, waiting for them to do the same.
“To marathon day,” Rebecca said, and we all clinked and took sips.
“Good Lord,” Emily groaned, glancing around. “This place is cray. I bet we could sell this table for a thousand dollars right now.”
“You’re selling?” I heard in a man’s voice.
I swung my neck to the right, where a redheaded guy was standing just behind Emily and me.