by Jessica Roe
I make no move to pull my shaking hands from his, to wipe away the tears falling freely down my cheeks. When I drop my head and shake it, my hair covers my face like a rippling curtain. Tears drip from my chin and land on our hands. “You’re the most selfless man I’ve ever met,” I argue quietly.
“I’m glad you think that. I want you to remember me with feelings of fondness.” He brings our clasped hands up to rest against his cheek. “I only hope that one day I can find a woman who. . .who looks at me the way you look at Nathan.”
Oh God. This is really happening.
We’re over.
I’m not prepared for this, not prepared to be without him. Seth has been my pillar of strength for so long now; I’m not sure I know how to live a life that doesn’t have him in it.
Sobbing freely, I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He hugs me back tightly, offering me comfort even now.
“One day I’ll find a way to pay you back for everything you did for my mom, I swear it,” I vow as acceptance begins to kick in. Because he’s not the only one who has to let go. I have to do it too. I have to let him go so he can find a happiness that I can never give him. That I never would have been able to, no matter how badly I wanted to.
Pulling back just a little so he can look me in the eye, he shakes his head adamantly. “No, Ophelia. I didn’t do it so you’d be in my debt.”
“I know that, but-”
“But nothing. There is no debt. There is nothing to repay me for.”
And I truly believe him. He’s so damned kindhearted. How do I bear it?
We hug again, tearfully. I clutch at Seth’s shoulders with trembling hands like I need them to keep me afloat as I bury my face in his neck. He smells so clean and fresh, with just a hint of aftershave. It’s a familiar scent, a scent that makes me feel safe. But it doesn’t make me feel like I’m home, not like. . .not like it does when I’m with Nathan. “I would have loved you,” I murmur softly into his skin, kissing the spot. “until we were old and grey. And I never would have regretted a thing.”
Pulling back once more, he cups my cheeks between those capable hands. “I know,” he promises sincerely, and then he presses his smooth lips against mine. The kiss is heartbreak, sorrow, grief for a relationship that never needed to end but did because he was strong enough for both of us when I couldn’t be. The kiss is goodbye.
Letting me go one final time, Seth stands and picks up a holdall from the floor next to the bed. I hadn’t noticed it. He must have packed while I was still sleeping.
“You’re leaving already?” I ask pitifully, pulling the covers up to my chin. I make for a pathetic sight; cross legged on my bed with my duvet wrapped around me, tangled hair, makeup staining half my face. It’s not exactly the image I would have chosen to leave him with if I’d had the choice. Or perhaps it is, perhaps I’m glad, because this is a more real version of me than any Ophelia he’s known before. Maybe I’m happy he finally got to meet the real me, if only to say goodbye.
It’s a stupid question – of course he isn’t going to hang around just to make me feel better.
But I miss him already.
Nodding regretfully, he throws the strap of the holdall over his shoulder. “I’ve got a flight to catch, and I just need. . .to be away.”
That’s fair. That’s very, very fair. “I’ll miss you,” I tell him, my croaking voice barely above a whisper. I’m doing my very best not to fall apart, at least not until he’s left the room.
Looking very much like he’s barely holding it together himself, Seth swallows, bobbing his head up and down. “Me too.”
When he leaves, he walks tall and straight. It’s the walk of a brave man.
I wonder if, like me, he’s waiting until he starts up the car and drives away before completely losing his shit.
I’m almost certain that that was the last time I’ll ever see Seth again.
Dad is hiding away in his and Mom’s room upstairs and nobody else is home, so I’m alone while I cry my heart out for a solid hour. Each time I think I couldn’t possibly have more tears to shed, another memory of Seth and I together hits me and I’m swamped with emotion all over again.
Somewhere, very deep down beneath the loneliness and the heartbreak, another feeling stirs. Relief. But I’m not ready to think about that, not just yet.
“Hey, sis.” I glance up with my painfully puffy eyes, surprised to see Micah’s giant frame in my bedroom doorway. I’ve been sobbing so hard I hadn’t even heard anyone arrive back home. “So he left, huh?”
I hiccup. “You knew?”
He nods, coming in to sit at the edge of the bed, much like Seth did earlier. “We talked last night after Nathan brought you home – he wanted to make sure I’d take care of you once he’d gone. C’mere, you big crybaby.” Not exactly as sympathetic as I’d like, but I’ll take it all the same. Micah pulls me into a hug, wrapping me up in his arms. The worn flannel of his shirt is soft beneath my cheek; it’s wonderfully reassuring.
“Okay,” he says sternly after a few minutes. Taking me by the shoulders, he pushes me back and gives me a no nonsense look. “Time to stop being a little bitch and get your shit together.”
I pout, because I’m very sad and very ill and all I want right now is for him to give me all the sympathy, attention and affection. All of the nice things. All of it. “But-“
“But nothing. You made choices, he made choices. He’s gone and you’re still here. You could’ve gone after him, but you didn’t. We all know why.”
“Your brother is right, Phee,” my dad breaks in from the bedroom doorway. For such a huge man, he sure knows how to be sneaky. He leans against the doorframe, so tall he has to duck down for his head to fit. His face is pale and gaunt, his eyes red from secret tears. “It’s time to fix your fucking shit, once and for all.”
My mouth drops open when I hear Dad using language I’ve never heard him use before, and it makes him grin, if only for a moment. He likes that he just shocked the crap out of me. Micah stifles a snigger.
“Daddy, you don’t understand.” If he knew about Nathan. . .
“I understand,” he replies firmly. “I understand, Phee. It’s time we left the past in the past where it belongs. Your mother would want you to be happy. I want that too.”
And it’s in that moment that I realize that he really does understand, and I have never, ever loved him more.
Chapter 32
Nathan
I’M RAW, I’M empty, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with my life now. At all. It’s funny – I didn’t have this problem before Phee came storming back into my heart. I had purpose, I had focus. And now I have a whole lot of. . .nothingness. Because nothing seems to matter, not without her here with me.
One thing I do know is that I can’t keep on the way I have, because I’m going to destroy myself to the point of no return. Which is why I made the decision to completely quit drinking, before that became a problem I couldn’t fix. No more alcohol for me, whether it be socially or a coping mechanism to deal with my shit. No drinking at all. Indefinitely. It’s been a week now since I last saw Phee, and over a week since I’ve had a thing to drink. It’s been hard, getting through the days with a completely clear head, but it’s the right thing to do. I’m sure I’ll thank myself for it one day. Or my liver will, at least.
But I miss Phee. I fucking miss her so much it physically hurts, more than I ever imagined possible. Those ten years without her I thought I’d fully grasped the pain of missing somebody like that, but I’d been wrong. Because this is a new level of pain; an almost unbearable one. But bear it I fucking do, day and night.
I’m nothing more than a robot these days. Devoid of feeling, emotion. Getting through my days because I have to and not because I have anything to look forward to, to live for.
Maybe it’s about time I got that dog.
The gallery is having an unusually quiet morning; I’m glad for it. I need the peace, the space. I n
eed to be alone within these walls, amongst this art, where Gramps’ presence is stronger than it is anywhere else. I wonder what he’d have to say about the decisions I’ve made recently. He never would have approved of my giving up Phee. He always did love her – almost as much as I did.
My cell buzzes in my pocket with a text. I don’t look up from the paperwork I’ve been scanning for a full minute, considering ignoring it. If there were an emergency whoever it was would call, not text.
But I’m human and incapable of ignoring my phone for long.
Nash, again. He’s gotten into the habit of texting every couple hours to check on me, and if I don’t respond he’s guaranteed to show up an hour later with some bullshit excuse. The guy needs to chill.
But in all honesty I appreciate it – it’s pretty great knowing I have people in my life who care.
Meet me in that empty building on Maple St. Ten minutes. Get your ass here now.
Ah man, what does the guy want this time?
I know the place he’s talking about – Fortune is only a small town after all. The building was a fancy restaurant up until about six months ago when old Andrea decided to close the place down, pack up and move to Spain to be with her Spanish lover. Good on the wrinkly old broad. The place has stood empty ever since, waiting on someone to come buy it and give it life again.
I shoot him a message back asking what he wants because I’m not in the mood for company, but he doesn’t reply. When I try to call it’s only to find the fucker’s gone and switched off his cell. Standard Nash.
Hell, it’s not like I have to show up. I could just stay here in my nice, quiet gallery where no other humans lurk, since I’m not exactly a people person these days. But on the other hand I don’t have anything better going on and I could probably use the distraction. Anything to take my mind off my own thoughts, off her.
So even though I don’t want to – I don’t want to do much of anything these days to be fair – I get my shit together and lock up the gallery so I can go meet my best bud. I can’t begrudge the guy this one thing really; he’s been an awesome friend to me when I’ve needed him the most, especially recently. Least I could do really is give him an hour of my time.
The building is only a couple of blocks from the gallery so I walk over, my hands stuffed in my jeans pockets as I take my own sweet damned time. February may be coming to an end, but the temperature is still bitterly cold outside so I pay for my stubbornness.
I expect Nash to be waiting outside for me but there’s no one around, and I get no answer when I knock. Trying the door, I’m surprised to find it unlocked, but I let myself in anyway.
“Yo!” I call, stepping into the empty, dusty space. “Nash, you motherfucker. Where are you?”
Nash isn’t here.
Yet I’m not alone.
A throat clears in a doorway behind me and I spin, my heart kicking up into overdrive. It feels like it’s the first time it’s had some proper work in a week now.
Phee.
I shouldn’t. . .I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always Phee. She always shows up when I’m least expecting her. But I am surprised, because this is one time when I hadn’t been prepared to see that face. I’d assumed she’d already have left New York with Seth now the funeral is over and the thrift store up for sale. But she’s. . .but she’s here. She’s in Fortune. She’s in this building. She’s standing right in front of me. She’s goddamned here.
Like I’m not in control of my own body, I take a cautious step back. I don’t know if I can handle having my heart broken again, and why else could she be here? How many times can one man be knocked down before he no longer has the power to pick himself back up again?
“Hey!” Phee greets, overly cheerful. She’s overcompensating for the ridiculous case of nerves she’s trying to hide. But I know her too well – I can see the rigidness of her body, can detect the subtle shake in her voice. Most people wouldn’t see it, but I do. She never could hide her emotions from me. Still can’t.
I say nothing, holding myself back in all ways, simply watching her with a cocked head as she edges into the room. She doesn’t even really look at me, like she’s afraid to make eye contact. Instead, she glances around the large room, eyeing up the walls, the ground space, the balcony on another level that overlooks the room below. Anywhere but at me. Whereas I, I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“So I thought this is where the bar could go,” she launches into an unasked for explanation, gesturing to the long back wall. “And that side over there would be perfect for the stage, ‘cause then people up on the balcony would be able to see the performers too. You know, we don’t have a balcony area at Shark back home. This is quite exciting for me. Lame right?”
What in the fuck is she talking about? I continue to watch her in perfect silence, stood completely still, in contrast to the way she nervously flits about the room, in constant movement. She wrings her hands again and again, and flicks her hair behind her ears more times than I can count.
“This is the perfect location for me to open up another Shark, really,” she twitters on. “Nellie has gone above and beyond taking care of our baby alone while I’ve been gone. She’s proven she no longer needs me there to run things – she can do it by herself. I think she’s enjoyed the challenge, to be honest. We’re doing well these days, we have the funds. I definitely think we’re ready to open up another Shark in a new location.”
She shoots me a quick glance from the corner of her eye to gauge my reaction before turning away again to look up at the balcony, as if she’s pondering all the possibilities of the place.
Phee isn’t mincing her words. She’s explaining things to me, spelling them out as clear as day, but my mind is stuck, surrounded by a thick mist and nothing is finding its way through.
“Yes, now is the perfect time to expand,” she carries on quickly when it becomes clear that I’m still not going to reply, not going to give her any indication of what I think of her plans. She still has on her cheery voice, higher pitched than normal. “Fortune doesn’t have a place like Shark. I mean obviously it has bars and it has a music store, but it doesn’t have a bar that caters specifically for live music. There isn’t a place for performers to go to get themselves heard.”
She’s rambling. A lot. Another nervous trait of hers. I continue to let her ramble because I’m still in a state of shock that she’s even stood here right now and not off planning her wedding with Mr. Perfect.
I’m more confused than ever.
Finally she runs out of things to ramble about and she turns to face me, looking at me properly for the first time. Her big brown eyes are filled with tears. She looks terrified, but there’s something else shining in those eyes. Something that looks a lot like hope.
“I hope to God I’m not too late,” she utters quietly, sincerely, taking a step towards me. That false cheer is gone now. She’s entirely genuine. For a moment I think she’s talking about buying the building, until I realize what she really means. My heart almost stops right there and then. “I hope I haven’t ruined things for good.”
Still, I can’t form words. Still, I can’t move a muscle. I’m a statue made of marble, staring at her stonily as she trembles before me.
“I know I’ve hurt you,” she cries, a tear escaping down her cheek. “But I love you, Nathan Alders. Nothing has ever been truer than that. I love you so much. Always have, since the moment you pulled me from that lake. I never stopped loving you for a minute, even I did bury it for a while, and I’ll keep loving you ‘till the day I die, for the rest of my life. It’s ingrained into every cell of my body. My love for you, it’s as much a part of me as my need to breathe, as my heart beating in my chest.”
No one has ever, not in my whole life, given themselves to me the way she just did. It means so much, more than I could ever say. And yet I’m silent. I’m still. Fuck. What’s wrong with me?
Visibly shaking now, Phee steps so close that we’re almost toe to toe, and all
I can do is stare down at her. She goes to reach for my hands, hanging lifelessly by my sides, but pulls back before we actually touch.
“I’m here to beg you for another chance, Nathan,” she confesses earnestly, working past her fears. She spent so long keeping herself closed away from everyone because of me, because of what I did to her. I can’t imagine the courage it took to lay her heart out like this. “What the two of us share. . . Well, it’s crazy and most of the time it doesn’t make a whole lotta sense, but I love it and I love you and I’ll fight for you any way I can. I’ll fight for us. I would never, ever throw us away again.
“I’m moving back home permanently, to Norson Lake. Hell, to Fortune if you’ll have me. More than anything all I want now is for us to have the life we should’ve had all those years ago.
“Seth is gone now. He knew that I loved you and he let me go. He knew that I’ll always love you, and only you.”
I can tell she isn’t done, that she’s ready to beg some more, because I still haven’t said a thing. I still haven’t given a single indication that I’ve even heard anything she’s said to me, let alone understood it. I’m just staring at her with the most gormless look on my face as I try to process everything happening here in front of me. Because how can a man go from being a miserable pit of loneliness to the happiest bastard alive in such a short space of time?
And then, finally, her words find their way through that mist in my brain, like a beam of shining light, showing me the way home.
Phee loves me.
Phee loves me and she wants me and it’s real. This time I get to keep her and it’s fucking real.
This woman, she doesn’t have to beg me for anything. Not fucking ever. She’ll never have to beg me for a thing because I’m hers. Completely hers. Forever.
“Nathan, please say something-”
