This Is Not How It Ends

by Rochelle B. Weinstein

  Okay, Charley, I’m going to say goodbye now. I’m not very good at goodbyes. Wherever I’m headed, it won’t be the same without you. I’ll miss you. Especially that sexy bum of yours, but I will rest comfortably knowing you’re smiling, understanding a bit more about yourself and what it is you truly need.

  Be happy, my love. We only have one ride on this merry-go-round. Don’t fall off.

  Eternal, endless love,

  Philip

  PS—The Pappy Van Winkle is waiting for you. Cheers to my two favorite people.

  Pass with care. Only Philip.

  Sunny licked my eyes and cheeks. I fell back along the pillows while quiet sobs escaped me. There was so much to digest. Months of strange behavior culminating in Philip’s greatest act: saving me. Shaving his head, the vomiting at the hotel, the calls to Natasha’s house, the beeping sounds. Philip had been sick. He wasn’t rejecting a baby. He wasn’t rejecting me. His body couldn’t physically meet mine.

  When he shared his fear of falling with me, I should have told him I would have been there to catch him.

  My initial reaction was being upset, questioning why he chose to isolate himself, but as was typical when it came to Philip, I only felt his tender devotion. And if he doubted the outcome, he did everything he could to ensure I’d be okay. Every piece was in place. My father. Ben. Philip. All the men I’d loved and lost. Philip was giving them back. He was giving me back. It was far better than a fairy tale.

  Philip knew about Ben. I don’t know why this would surprise me. His selflessness was a trait I’d always admired. I folded the page in half and rested it against my chest. None of the other papers mattered. All these months later, and Philip continued to take care of me. To impart life’s most valuable lessons. To love me enough to give me permission to follow my heart and live my best life. The answer I’d been searching for was here. I rolled over and reached for my phone.

  “Lib”—my voice shook—“it’s me.”

  I read her the letter, and we cried together. I told her about passing with care, the drawer filled with papers, and she reminded me how timing is everything.

  “Go to New York,” she said.

  My silence went on too long.

  “You’re not really going to argue with the dead, are you, Charlotte? Philip handed you a gift.”

  I didn’t tell her what I’d been thinking. Ben was gone. Not just physically gone. He was with someone else. He loved someone else.

  “Girls’ trip. You and me. NYC. No is not an option.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. And you will. You’ll do it for Philip. He’s offering you a second chance, and you’re going to take it.”

  CHAPTER 43

  May 2019

  It was my father by way of Philip who convinced me to go to Ben. I’d lived without his advice and guidance for years, and he was the person who finally broke me, proving to me that love was worth the risk.

  Just days after I found Philip’s letter, we met on a clear morning at a restaurant overlooking the Gulf. He’d flown down for a few days to spend time with me.

  I recognized him at once, though he was older, heavier. We had the same eyes, and his hair was thick, patched with gray. We didn’t hug, but we shook hands for quite a long time.

  He showed me pictures of his daughter, and the teacher in me wanted to steer her through life, while the much older sister wanted to hold her hand for the journey.

  When he asked me to tell him about myself, I found myself disclosing everything. It was like opening a sacred chest and spilling out the contents. My mom. Her illness. Philip. Even Ben. We talked about his secret history, the years of hiding and shame. He cried a few times, and I felt his struggle. I understood my father’s inability, his imperfection, and the heavy burden he carried, and I knew I had a choice. I could hold a grudge, or I could embrace the time we had left and relish a fresh start. I thought of Philip and his lasting messages. Forgiveness is a gift. Life holds no guarantees. Happiness comes with risk.

  “But then I fell in love, Charley. His name was Julius. Our feelings were sewn together before we ever spoke. Julius came from a strict Catholic family. We both had our demons, the pressures society placed on us. Today, the world’s kinder, but it wasn’t always that way. I’d been beaten up. I’d been ostracized. Julius begged me to get the help I needed. He refused to share a life with me if I didn’t. I couldn’t come out. I couldn’t stand up to myself or my own family. I couldn’t be like him. I was too ashamed.

  “Julius eventually let me go. He said if his super conservative family could come around and accept him, I could accept myself. He was a fighter. He fought me. The breakup was messy and the aftermath worse. I got into a bad crowd. Drugs. Drinking. Harmful one-night stands.

  “My point, Charley, is this. Figure out what you want. Not what you think Philip would want. Not what Ben wants. What you want. Don’t be like me. Don’t give up on someone you love. You’ll never know when you’ll have another chance.”

  My eyes glazed, thinking about my father being alone all those years. Who had it worse? It was hard to say. “What changed?”

  I wasn’t imagining the mist that formed in his eyes. “My life was messy and full of bitterness. I had hit rock bottom. Literally. I had no home. No job. Nothing. Self-loathing spread through my body like a disease. And then Philip called. You had just met. He wanted to meet your pilot father.” He waited for me to respond to my little fib, but I remained silent. “He sent me pictures of you. He told me about your life. Your mom.” He stopped to wipe his eyes. “Philip saved my life, Charley.”

  A still calm came over me. “He basically told me to get my shit together and forbade me to contact you until I did. He had no idea I had sunk so low, but I listened to what he said. The man is nothing if not formidable.” This got me to laugh.

  “I went into heavy-duty counseling, cleaned up, and came out of the closet. Do you know how many years I wasted in quiet suffering?” The weight of his burden scratched my skin. It felt uncomfortably familiar. “Here’s the thing, Charley, if you’re dreaming, you’re not really living. You have to fight, you have to chase the dream, or else it dies. And a part of you dies along with it. I found Julius again. Our timing worked. He was getting out of a relationship, and I opened my heart to him. He’s my partner. He’s the father of that little girl.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand into his. I didn’t pull away. I wasn’t sure we would ever have the father-daughter relationship I’d imagined, but I was willing to try.

  “I called Philip, and I’m guessing by then he was sick. He knew of the possibility you’d need me, and he knew no matter the circumstances, I was ready to face your disapproval. He loved you. All he wanted was to do for you, to give you the things that maybe he couldn’t. I know my leaving had to have changed you. I’m sure it affected your ability to trust yourself and those around you. I had a choice and I walked away. You have a choice, too.”

  Hearing those words from my father’s mouth, I felt a release. The future was there all along, and once it revealed itself, I couldn’t let it go. “I want a family. I want kids. Lots of them. I didn’t think I did. I didn’t think I could trust it. And I’m sorry Philip couldn’t give it to me. Whether it was because he was ill or something else, I’ll never know for sure, but I want it now.”

  He found my eyes and held them in his. “You deserve to be loved, Charley. Wholly. Deeply. Your heart is big, and though there’s a broken part, there’s a large piece that has the capacity for pure joy. Don’t be afraid. Go after what you want. You may never have another chance.”

  I listened, tears springing from my eyes because it was him, my father, the one who first made me doubt, who now gave me clarity.

  CHAPTER 44

  May 2019

  My story with Philip began on a plane, and it would end on a plane.

  Liberty and I were tucked in first class on American Airlines (her insistence). “If we’re going to find y
ou a prince, we’re going to find him in style.”

  My certification came through that morning, and I was empowered and proud, two fine characteristics to take a leap on. “You were a wise investment on my part, Charlotte.” She laughed while sipping a Bloody Mary. The bracelets up and down her arms clinked together.

  “I’m worried about Sunny,” I said. Though Paul had been happy to extend his visit by a few days to help out with Sunny, I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “What if he doesn’t like my father?”

  “He’ll be fine. Gay men and dogs love each other.”

  “This is a mistake,” I told her, stretching my legs out in front of me.

  She leaned over the seat and stuck her pointed nose in my face. “The only mistake is that you’ve waited this long.”

  New York was warm and dry, teetering on the brink of summer. The city was sizzling with throngs of tourists, and with that kind of energy, it was hard not to feel alive and hopeful.

  Liberty and I walked the bustling streets and their crowded sidewalks. We stopped only to gaze up at the magnificent skyscrapers jutting into the blue sky. The sounds and smells filled my nose—Ben was near, I could feel him in my bones.

  I had this recurring dream about Ben’s new restaurant. I’d be roaming the noisy streets at dusk, the sun escaping behind the city skyline. A charming brick restaurant with cozy outdoor seating would appear. Fairy lights strung from above; aged brick swathed with ivy. And I would just know. This is Ben’s. He’d be sitting at the bar, nursing a tequila, waiting for the dinner crowd to breeze in. He’d sense my passing through the door and turn around. Our eyes would meet, and everything would fall into place.

  But it didn’t happen that way.

  Liberty grabbed her laptop from her suitcase the minute we got to our room overlooking Madison Avenue. Before I could unpack my toiletries, she was typing in the passcode for the internet and googling Ben Hearst. Goose. I had my fantasies about what he’d name her, his new restaurant. “Sari” was the name of his first award-winner. Jimmy’s. Charlotte’s Web. Something that made people stop and wonder, remembering he was the poor chef who had lost his wife on these mean streets.

  Liberty mouthed, Tin Hi. When she saw my puzzled expression, she repeated it again. “Tin Hi.”

  “That’s the name?” I asked. “What language is that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s spelled T-I-N-H-I-E. All caps.”

  “Let me see.” I headed over to the screen, stumped by the bizarre phrase. TINHIE. “What does it mean? Does it say?”

  We scrolled down the web page, past the picture of Ben in his white garb—Ben with his newer, shorter haircut—Ben’s eyes, holding on to mine. It offered no explanation for the strange word that Liberty had googled, which connected us to a Facebook and Twitter account of a young girl from Indonesia. Liberty typed: What does tinhie mean? Google’s answer: Do you mean tinie?

  Liberty wrote down the address on the hotel’s note paper and stuffed it in her pocket. “Let’s go.” When I made no effort to move, she said, “Come on, Charlotte, it’s time. We’re here, get moving.”

  I caught my reflection in the mirror. “I can’t.”

  “There’s no such thing as can’t. We’re going.”

  “He might not even be there. It’s early.”

  “I’ll call,” she said. “Want me to call?”

  I shook my head no. I didn’t want to know. My heart raced. This is a mistake, I told myself. It had been easier confronting my father.

  “Give me the address,” I blurted out.

  She fetched the scrunched-up paper and passed it my way. I entered the information into my phone to see if it was close enough to walk or if I needed to take an Uber. Uber it was.

  “You call me the second you can,” she said. Her green eyes were filled with magic and a thrill that latched on to my heart.

  I looked down at my jeans and the white V-neck T-shirt. A long leather cord dangled from my neck with two gold charms, one for courage and one for hope. I rubbed them with my fingers and glanced back in the mirror. My hair was long and light from the Florida sun. “Here,” I said, reaching for my hand. “Take this.” Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as I dropped the diamond in her hand. “You guard that with your life,” I said. “I just need to do this with a clear head. Ben deserves that much.”

  I was in the Uber, and just my luck, it was Sergio’s very first day. He had a friend with him, Sonia, and she passed this information along because, well, Sergio didn’t speak a lick of English. The ride started out friendly enough. I remarked how she was a good friend, this Sonia. Sergio drove while holding his phone up, opened to a map program that wasn’t Waze. “I think it’s against the law to hold the phone while he drives,” I kindly told Sonia. “And he should probably use Waze. It’s much more accurate.” Which would have come in handy when he missed a turn and we had to venture through one of the tunnels, where there was an accident and our trip went from twelve minutes to thirty-four. By then, I was annoyed, but tried not to show it. My patience was wearing thin, but I smiled.

  I was in love. And I was going to tell the man responsible for that.

  At this point, I’d stopped with the small talk. Sonia could tell I was upset, and Sergio was probably considering quitting, as he ran a red light to get me to my destination. When they dropped me off in front of TINHIE, Sonia apologized profusely. I told her not to worry, even adding, “May this be the worst thing that ever happens to him in his new profession.” Part of me believed my kindness.

  TINHIE. Strange. But sort of beautiful.

  The restaurant was tucked away on a breezy street beside a flower shop. There was no outdoor seating. No fairy lights. Only an awning draping the glass window with the weird word spelled out in all caps.

  I tugged on the door handle and entered a large, modern white space.

  Ben was so close.

  A man behind the bar, which was tucked in a far corner, called out to me. “We open at five.”

  I took the steps toward him, hoping he couldn’t see the tremor in my fingers. “I’m here to see Ben.” He eyed me while wiping down bar glasses. He was a thin man with wiry arms and a kind face. “I’m an old friend. From the Keys.”

  “They’re away,” he said, turning to find more glasses. “He and the Mrs. left for the weekend.”

  The man was behind the bar, doing things men do behind bars. Bending, cleaning, wiping, filling. I stood in quiet shock. He stopped what he was doing and took note. “Ma’am, you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, steadying myself. I reached inside my bag and took out Philip’s letter. My fingers shook as I ripped it in half and crumpled it into a ball. Then I handed it to the man. “Would you mind throwing this away for me?”

  He took the paper in his hand. “Are you sure you’re all right, ma’am? Do you want a drink?”

  I shook my head, inching nearer to the bar. “Can I ask you something?”

  He looked up with a smile. “Anything for a pretty lady.”

  “What does T-I-N-H-I-E mean?”

  “Well, you know what they say—if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Trust me,” I said, “there’s very little left of me. Spill.”

  His dark eyes homed in on mine. “It means nothing. It’s not even a word. It’s an acronym.”

  “What does it stand for?”

  “This is not how it ends.”

  CHAPTER 45

  May 2019

  Just when I thought I had no more tears left in me, they began to fall. I ran out of the restaurant, leaving the poor man in my wake. The name was all wrong. It should’ve been TIHIE, because this is how it ends. I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone, but my fingers couldn’t dial. I told Siri to call Liberty. I shouted at her, as though it was all her fault.

  Liberty picked up, and I couldn’t speak.

  “Charlotte?”

  I was sobbing into the phone. “It’s over.”

 
I literally crumpled onto the pavement. It was spotted with bird shit and piss, but I didn’t care. I sat right there on the curb and cried. “Tell me where you are,” she said. “I’ll come get you.”

  I don’t know how I got back to the air-conditioned hotel, though the cool air slapped me awake. I focused on Liberty, on her arm thrown around my shoulders, and bowed my head, turning from the guests filling the lobby. Streaks of dried-up tears clawed at my face, and my legs weakened with each step.

  Once in our room, I fell on the bed while Liberty pulled up a chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She was rubbing my hair. “You did everything you could, Charlotte. You followed your heart. Not everyone gets that chance. You’ll never have to wonder . . . no should’ve, no could’ve. You took the leap.”

  The more I listened to her, the worse I felt. I took a leap and failed. I sacrificed . . . for nothing. To lose everything that mattered. I never knew how badly I wanted Ben until Ben was lost to me forever.

  “I’d like to go home,” I told her. I expected an argument, one of her soul-soothing speeches about not dwelling on this, followed by an energy drink to diminish swollen emotions. But there was no sermon, no smoothie, and she dialed the airline.

  Six hours later we were back on a plane to Miami, giving new meaning to the New York minute. I slept on and off while Liberty hummed to the music on her phone. I dreamed of Philip. He was in the hospital, though he wasn’t sick. He was standing over me and our baby. A little girl with his eyes. Ben dropped off a gift. It was a white rabbit with a pink satin ribbon. But every time he handed the rabbit to me, I dropped it. I’d reach down and pick it up, and it would again fall. The baby was wailing. Philip and Ben laughed. I woke up in a damp sweat.