The Last Post

by Renee Carlino

  “I did, but I realized later how it had ignited something in me, too. Maybe I’m not wired the way I thought I was. I didn’t date a lot, Micah. I had flings here and there, but they meant nothing to me when I was younger. I don’t want that anymore. So, yes, I was testing the waters. I wondered if I could be with someone I was already attracted to and then walk away like I had done so many times before Cameron came along. I hate that it sounds like I was using you.”

  I nodded as if I totally understood. “You did sort of walk away.”

  “I didn’t, though. Somewhere in the recesses of my subconscious I was aware of the change happening within me. Someday maybe I can express myself to you better, but right now I am trying to process it.”

  “You’re softer than you think you are,” I said.

  She looked out the window and took a deep breath. “Are you gonna eat that French toast or what?”

  “Why, do you want it?” I deadpanned, and placed my hand in front of my plate, protecting it. “ ’Cause you can’t have any.”

  She quickly stabbed her fork into the French toast, pulling a heap of it away and shoving it in her mouth. I laughed. Still chewing, she said, “This is soooo good . . . even though it’s cold.”

  “Well, I was busy and I forgot about it.”

  Just then the server walked up and asked if we wanted our coffee refilled. She looked exhausted, her hair flying everywhere and her frilly blue apron speckled with food stains. I noticed she had a piece of food or something on her cheek. Laya looked up at her, blinked, and then wiped her own cheek, signaling to the server to do the same. Laya cared about people. The woman didn’t understand, so Laya very quietly said, “You need to wipe your cheek. This place is a madhouse; I don’t know how you serve all these tables. I could never do it.”

  The woman wiped her cheek and said, “Thanks, honey.”

  After the server walked away, I said, “That was really kind of you. I don’t know many people who wouldn’t feel uncomfortable saying that to someone.”

  “Well, who hasn’t had mustard on their face without realizing it four hours after eating a sandwich and then talking to ten different people who said nothing.” She cocked her head to the side. “Hey, maybe we can eat cold French toast sometime at my apartment.”

  “I would love that, though I do wonder why it has to be cold.”

  “Just in case we get caught up . . . in conversation, you know?”

  “Yes,” I said in a low voice. “Smart planning.”

  “Hey, are we flirting?”

  “Are we?”

  “Are we?” I said again.

  “Well, it’s hard not to flirt with me.”

  “True.”

  Just then our check came. We wrestled it back and forth until I finally yanked it out of her hand. I told her she could pay next time and she smiled. I walked her to the subway, and when we reached the top of the stairs going down, she turned around and hugged me. “Thank you,” she said near my ear.

  “You’re welcome.” I couldn’t let go of her. She felt good in my arms. The top of her head fit perfectly right under my chin. I released her just a few inches so I could look into her eyes. “I want to kiss you again, Laya. Can I kiss you?”

  I felt her shiver. She nodded. I kissed her softly, just for a few moments, and then pulled away. “You are gorgeous and you don’t even know it.”

  She shrugged it off and said, “Where are you off to now?”

  “Wherever you want me to be.”

  She laughed. “I have to go home to Pretzel; he has separation anxiety.”

  “Well then, I guess I’m going to church.”

  “Church?”

  “Yes, to pray it won’t be too long before I’m eating cold French toast in your apartment.”

  “It won’t be,” she said, and then she was off. I couldn’t stop smiling as she skipped down the steps.

  On my way back to Brooklyn, I called Mel. “Fuck, that hurt!” is how she answered the phone.

  “What are you doing? It sounds like you’re in a car.”

  “I’m in a cab.”

  “I thought you weren’t being released until Monday,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I hate it there. Taylor, the night nurse, isn’t into me at all . . . figuratively or literally.”

  “Oh my god, Melissa. So, you just left? Who told you you could do that?”

  “My brain,” she replied.

  “What is wrong with you?!”

  “I just wanted Taylor to pay attention to me.”

  Not unusually, I was losing my patience with her. “You’ve had a boyfriend for years. Did you forget about kind, loyal, tree-hugging Kenny?”

  “Why do you think I’m in a cab right now? Oh, wait, I forgot to mention I’m going to your apartment to stay until my flight tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for asking. Keep away from Jeff if he’s there; he’s a walking STD.”

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Melissa!” I yelled, and then the phone clicked.

  23. Spacesuit

  LAYA

  “You’re not here. You’re dead.”

  “I am here, Laya. You can see me; I’m right next to you.”

  “Cameron, you died. I watched it happen.”

  “No, I pulled the shoot. Didn’t you see me floating to the ground?”

  “Why did you say my name like that?”

  “Laya, I said your name like this first. Have you already forgotten about me?”

  “Of course not. How can you even say that?”

  “Come on, why can’t you figure this out? You’re a surgeon, for god’s sake. You should know these things. I have to go.”

  “Stop. What are you trying to tell me, Cameron? Why are you getting blurry?”

  “Because I have to go.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I’ll come back when you know what you want.”

  * * *

  MY SHEETS WERE drenched with sweat but the cold air in my room was making my teeth chatter. I couldn’t get warm. I tossed and turned before finally switching on the bedside lamp. The moment the light went on, I remembered my dream: Cameron coming to me in the very spot I was currently lying in. He had never been in that apartment.

  Before he left, he said he would come back to me. I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to imply about me deciding what I want.

  Getting up, I noticed a shard of light streaming through the opening in the curtain. It was still daylight. I never slept during the day, but after breakfast with Micah I had come home and collapsed onto my bed in a daze.

  Looking at the clock, I realized I it was only three in the afternoon. I had only slept an hour. Just long enough for Cameron to haunt my dreams with cryptic messages. Or for my subconscious to send me on a dangerous journey back to a deep state of mourning. I walked to the kitchen and stared at the contents of the refrigerator.

  Not long after that, I found myself on my living room floor, drinking wine alone. I knew it was wrong to deal with my emotions that way. I thought maybe if I drank until I passed out, he would come to me in my dreams again, but in the dark cavernous valley of my mind, I knew better. Don’t we all?

  The taste of the wine hitting the back of my throat made me buckle over and gag. What was I doing to myself?

  The phone rang, jarring me. Unplugging it from the charger, I saw that it was Cameron’s sister, Krista. I tried to evaluate how drunk I was and if she would be able to tell in my voice. The bottle was already close to being empty.

  Something made me answer. Maybe it was fear that it would be someone else telling me Krista had died while climbing. The thought haunted me every day. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Krista.” I exhaled loudly into the phone. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’m happy to hear your voice,” I told her.

  With an irritable tone, she said, “I haven’t been climbing, so stop putting your negativity out into the universe.”
Krista was a tomboy through and through. She didn’t sugarcoat anything.

  “I wasn’t doing that,” I said.

  “You sound like you’ve been drinking.”

  “Well, I’m not. And I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

  “I can tell, Laya. I can tell when you’ve been drinking. I remember all the phone calls right after Cameron died. You sound like you’re back in that place.”

  As I prepared myself for a Krista lecture, I quietly took the last swig directly from the bottle.

  “I had a dream about him last night. He didn’t die.”

  Silence overtook the phone lines for several seconds.

  “He’s gone. How many times do I have to repeat how dead my brother is? This is hard on me, too.”

  “I’m sorry. It was just so real. It felt like I could touch him. He told me I needed to figure out what I wanted.”

  “You’re not responsible for Cameron’s death, Laya. I don’t know what exactly you’re grappling with or what figuring out what you want means, but your dad told me you were easing back into your fellowship, taking steps in the right direction, and feeling better.”

  “Don’t you have dreams about him?”

  “Yes, Laya, I do, but it doesn’t mean it’s him.”

  “And?”

  “The dreams about my brother are always happy dreams. They’re memories I replay in my head. I don’t dream that Cameron is coming to me telling me to do this or that. He never told me not to climb El Cap.”

  “Lucky you. I guess I still don’t understand why you climb and want to risk your life at every turn.”

  “Did you understand why Cameron did it?”

  “I never thought he’d die like that.” Our conversation was curt but heavy.

  “No one did.” She paused and took two deep breaths. “That’s not why I was calling you.” For a moment I thought she was going to bring up Micah even though there was no way she would know about him, unless my father had mentioned it. “I’m pregnant. I wanted to tell you personally that you’re going to be an aunt.”

  Saying I was shocked would be putting it lightly. I had never even asked Krista if she wanted to have children. I knew she had an on-and-off boyfriend, but they didn’t seem serious. “Is it Brian’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you happy, Krista?”

  “I’m really happy. Climbing seems the furthest thing from my mind now. And if I ever do climb again, it will be with ropes and harnesses, and it has nothing to do with what happened to Cam. I admired him. He wasn’t perfect, but he loved us. I only wish he were here to be an uncle to my kids.”

  “Hmm . . . kids, as in plural. Are you having twins?”

  She laughed. “No, but I know I want more than one.”

  My brain was flooded with questions. Would I ever have a baby? Did I even want kids? Would life have been different if I had a sibling? And how did I not recognize before the bond Cameron and Krista had? It was so evident with Micah and Melissa. When I looked back, I realized Cam and Krista were as close as siblings could be.

  When we hung up, I went to my computer and blew the layer of dust off the keyboard. My thumb hovered over the cursor. Five minutes passed before I finally began typing.

  LAYA BENNETT to CAMERON BENNETT

  Remember when . . . ? Three. Two. One. See ya.

  There was nothing to say to him. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of water. I dialed my father’s number and then hung up. I dialed Cameron’s number and listened to the outgoing message.

  Before the beep, I hung up quickly. It was six p.m.

  I dialed Micah and got his voicemail as well. “It’s Laya. I wanted to see if maybe you’d want to come over next weekend and have breakfast for dinner? I’ll be in and out of the hospital this week but I’m free Saturday and Sunday. Give me a call back when you can.”

  Pretzel came up to me, sat, and barked once, breaking me from the nonproductive state I was in. After I fed him, I went on a cleaning rampage. I threw old clothes into a box along with some of Cameron’s belongings. It felt liberating to get rid of his gear and, in a way, make space for change.

  In the alley behind my apartment, I found a dumpster. Before I threw the box in, I said out loud, “Three, two, one, see ya.” Liftoff.

  Inside, I went back to the computer and transferred my money into a few different accounts. I invested in random stock I had never even heard of and I set up a fund for my little embryonic niece or nephew. The TV was on in the background, advertising a very extended St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital commercial showing children and babies with childhood cancer. It made me cry. I had a real-world example to finally apply it to. I was going to be an aunt!

  Maybe Cameron was also my real-world example. My experience with him would color not only my personal life but my professional life with more intense feelings. I hoped it would make me a better doctor. I had seen death in my profession. But witnessing my own husband’s tragic demise was different. I understood grief, loss, compassion.

  The commercial was still playing when I found the St. Jude’s website, where I located the phone number. I called and set up a five-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer to the organization. It was for the children, but it was also for the loved ones who suffer along with them. There are always people left behind in the shadows, asking God why. People who blame themselves for something totally out of their control. I then donated the same amount to the space camp I attended as a child, to the neurosurgery department at the hospital, to a homeless shelter up the street from my house, to an abused women’s shelter, and to a community-based project that helped the children of single parents.

  At eleven thirty I checked my phone. There were no messages so I climbed into bed, dozing off and wondering why Micah hadn’t called back. I set my mind to focusing only on the positive, and somehow, I fell asleep easily and peacefully.

  24. Exposed Rafters

  MICAH

  Mel greeted me at the door of my apartment. “What’s up, Pickle?”

  “Is that my new nickname . . . and why?”

  She opened the door wider. “Because you’re so sour. Come on in.”

  “Thanks for inviting me into my own apartment. Where’s Jeff?”

  “Hell if I know. God, my leg is killing me.” She wobbled over to the couch and plopped down. “Why don’t you guys have a TV? This is lame. And this couch is disgusting. I don’t even want to think about what has gone on in the very spot I am sitting. Have you gotten rid of that twin-sized bed you pretend is charming?”

  “Maybe you should go back to the hospital where you belong. I actually got rid of the bed a long time ago and I never thought it was charming. Anyway, you should talk. Don’t you still have that stupid Elmo doll from when we were three?”

  “Don’t talk about Mo-Mo that way.”

  I grabbed two beers from the fridge, popped them open, and handed one to Melissa, who had already made herself comfortable in the spot where I always sat. “I’m thinking you should try a mental hospital this time.”

  “You’re being sour again,” she chided. “Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

  “No. I’m irritated that you jumped ship because you weren’t getting hit on by members of the hospital staff.”

  “You try spending weeks in that place. You should see the scrambled eggs they serve. There is no way they’re real. They come in the same exact shape every day. A perfect rectangle. I think maybe they make some kind of casserole and cut it with a knife.”

  “Our conversations are always so profound, Mel.” I sat in the armchair next to her. “Does Kenny know you left?”

  “I changed my flight and I leave in two hours. I’m gonna surprise him tonight. Oh, how was breakfast, by the way?”

  “It was really good. I feel like I want to spend every minute with her but I have to give her space.” I yawned loudly.

  “Is baby Micah tired?”

  “Yes, I’m exhausted from working on Steve’s st
upid Glossette apartment building. I’ve been putting so much extra time in on the stupid square box he designed. And I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Nice talking to you.”

  “Don’t be snotty, Mel, I’m just tired. How are you getting to the airport?”

  “Um, a cab, duh.” She stood awkwardly and walked toward the door. It was she who was wearing a sour face now. “Nice to see you, shithead,” she said under her breath.

  Despite her brattiness, I actually felt bad. “No, Mel, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She turned and scowled. “Why don’t you ever come to Maine to visit me?”

  “I’ve just been busy.”

  “You weren’t busy when you were sitting in Mom and Dad’s cabin trying to, quote, find yourself.”

  “Shut up. I needed that time away. It was self-care.”

  “I bet. Kind of like all the self-care you did as a teenager.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I walked her out to the street and hailed a cab. She got in and shut the door. When she looked up at me through the window, I mouthed, I love you, jerk, so she flipped me off as the car drove away. I walked back up the stairs, laughing.

  Instead of working, I scrolled Facebook and saw Laya’s vague post. I wondered if she had run out of memories. I listened to her voicemail inviting me over the following weekend, and I thought about calling her back then, but it seemed too late to return the call. I would respond in the morning.

  At ten forty-five, Mel called. I figured it was to let me know she had gotten home safely or to apologize for being a child when I simply didn’t want her to miss her flight.

  “Hello?”

  She was sniffling loudly. “Micah?”

  “What’s wrong, Melissa?”

  “He’s such an asshole. I came home and found him naked in the Jacuzzi with that yoga slut, Keri. He was . . . oh my god . . . she was . . .”

  “Your friend Keri? The one who gave him that holistic crap to give to you?”

  “She’s not a friend . . . obviously.” Mel’s sobbing turned to a loud mewling sound. “I found them . . . hold on, I’m going to throw up.”