These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow

by Renee Ericson

  After most of the emotions are let go, I inhale a few deep breaths, and I concentrate on the white space above me. It’s a vast, empty nothing—just like me. I’ve been completely hollowed out.

  My phone blares again, but I don’t have the energy to talk further on a point that’s at an impasse. I turn it off and then nudge it gently to the side of the bed, letting it fall to the floor with an echoing thump. Still in my clothes, I wrap the comforter around my lonely form, creating a cocoon to hold myself together. My arm reaches out and switches off the lamp, and then the room plunges into darkness. The moon and city lights filter through the window near the kitchen area, blanketing the room with a hint of brightness.

  Brent loves me, and I understand his reasons for all his actions and his words, but none of them bring peace to my heart. Only his arms do that, and I don’t have them.

  I tightly fold my own arms around my waist, a poor imitation for what my body needs, and I close myself off from the world, fighting away the reality.

  Thirty-Nine

  Opening my building’s door, my chilled, raw cheeks welcome the warmth. Entering inside, I tug the hat from my head and shake off the snow built up from the light scattering that began halfway through my run. It’s extremely chilly today. Any other day like this, I wouldn’t have ventured out for a jaunt, but I felt that it would do me some good, especially after last night. It’s a routine, and routines always help when I’m feeling unbalanced and unsure.

  Last night, I fell into an exhausted sleep. I awoke this morning feeling slightly better but not great. My emotions were everywhere—frantic, needy, and true.

  I need Brent more than I realized.

  I don’t know where we go from here. I’ve showed my hand and made it clear what I want and who I want, but apparently, my urgency for that person isn’t a possibility.

  So, I’m back to the motions. They’re all I have to get by.

  I’m tired of surviving.

  I want to be living.

  Unlocking my apartment, I enter, toe off my shoes, and pad toward my bed. Dropping to my knees at the edge of the mattress, I scoop up my phone from where it fell on the floor last night. I didn’t have the courage to deal with it this morning, but after my run, I’m feeling much better. Sitting cross-legged on the hardwood, I power it on and discover three voice mails and over twenty texts from Brent.

  I feel terrible. It’s apparent that he’s worried, and I caused his distress with my irrational and impulsive behavior.

  I rise from the floor, take a deep breath, and toss the phone onto the mattress, resolving to deal with it after I’ve cleaned up. I’m still not ready.

  After slipping off my running clothes, I submerge myself under the hot water of the shower, relaxing my entire form. The warm liquid is a shock to my cold skin in a refreshing and awakening way. Once I’m thoroughly cleansed, I’m more at ease and ready to go through the slew of messages waiting for me on my bed. I turn off the taps, exit into the steamy room, and towel off. I quickly dress to retain my body heat and then blow out my hair enough so that I don’t get chilly.

  Rounding the corner, I head straight into the main room.

  “Shit!” I yelp, startled by the sight of a figure in my apartment.

  On my bed, still in his jacket, sits Brent with his elbows on his knees and my phone in his hand. Neatly placed next to him on top of the comforter lays his hat and gloves. Near his right knee, extending upward from the floor, is a large suitcase, bigger than the one he had during his extended stay.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask with my hand over my rapidly beating heart.

  “You wouldn’t answer your phone.” He sets the item in question down near his thigh. “I would have been here sooner if it weren’t for the weather delay. O’Hare is notorious for them.”

  I blink a few times, taking in the fact that he’s sitting right before me. The reality hits that doubting place in my brain when his fingers comb through the top of his ebony hair, tussling it to one side. He stands, grabs his hat and gloves, and takes off his jacket as he approaches where I’m standing at the dressing area threshold.

  “Excuse me,” he quietly says, stepping around me and entering the closet.

  I’m a statue, still in shock.

  He passes by me, and I breathe him in.

  He’s here. It’s real.

  Without a word, Brent hangs his jacket in the same place it lived for two months. I never filled his side of the closet. His allotted drawers are still empty. Even his space in the bathroom, albeit a small one, was never taken over by my items. I never filled any part he vacated.

  Circling back to the main room, Brent rolls his suitcase into the closet area, lays it on the ground, squats down, and unzips it to reveal the contents.

  “Brent?” I question. “What are you doing?”

  “Unpacking,” he answers evenly. “And then, I was thinking maybe we could go out for lunch. How does that sound?”

  The calm demeanor, the calculated answers, and his methodical movements—he’s scaring me.

  I’m so confused. Why is he here?

  Brent unpacks everything from his luggage and makes himself at home. He steps out of the bathroom and then comes to stand in front of me at the threshold of the closet area. His green orbs glaze over, pricking with tears, as he rests his head on mine.

  My heart beats loud and even, praying for him to steal away the distance aching within my soul.

  “I heard you,” he murmurs. “You were right. I was taking away your choices, but I couldn’t see that because I was doing what I thought was for the best.”

  His mouth inches closer to mine, and the heat of his breath sears upon my lips.

  “But the best thing is for us to be together. It’s the only thing that matters.” His familiar palms slide up my arms and around my back as he pulls me into a firm embrace. “I left you once before, and I’ll never do it again. You need me, and I need you. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  “I’m here. With you.” The soft cells of his lips whisper across my own. “I told you I would always come for you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  His fingertips press their pads into my flesh. “Last night, I realized I was losing you. I could hear it in your voice. You were heading somewhere I swore to myself I would never let you go again.”

  “About last night—”

  “Shh…”

  He presses his mouth to mine, instantly pilfering away my want and confusion. Every shallow crevice in my heart is filled with his soul sealing to mine. The world around us is forgotten, leaving only two people joining to make one.

  I’m living again.

  I’m no longer going through the motions.

  This is life. This is love.

  “It’s clear what you need,” he says, his mouth grazing my own. “And it’s the same as me, but I still won’t take away anything from you.”

  I peek around his shoulder. The closet is full with his clothes, and his empty suitcase sits in the corner.

  “How long are you staying?” I ask.

  “Forever,” he responds, not missing a beat.

  There’s not even a question in his reply. There’s no debating his words.

  “How? You have a scrimmage on Tuesday and next weekend, too.” I search his expressionless face. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re the answer. I told you.” His hands cup my face. “I looked everywhere else, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. In the end, all that matters is that you’re with me. I don’t need anything but you. I’m taking away the distance, so it’s no longer an issue.”

  “Brent…you can’t give up everything for me.”

  “No, what I can’t give up is you.” His breath catches. “You’re the reason I live, Ruby—the reason my heart beats, my blood flows through my veins, and my lungs take in air. You’re the only reason I wake up every day. This”—he takes
my hand and places it on his hard-thumping heart—“has no purpose without you. And neither do I. In order to thrive, all I need is the person standing right in front of me.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, tears escaping. “Are you really serious?”

  “Yes.” His thumb brushes away the wetness drawing a line to my chin.

  “I can’t let you do that,” I choke, slipping out of his arms and into the wide space of the apartment.

  I turn to face him where he remains in the dressing area entrance, his hands hanging heavy.

  “You can’t just quit everything. Do you know the kinds of things they were saying about you? Your talent? Your—”

  “I don’t care!” Brent charges toward me and takes my face in his hands. His eyes are fierce and hungry. “You are not sending me away again. You don’t get to do that anymore! I’m not going to ask if you want me to stay.” His fingers curl into my hair. “You’re my entire life. I. Love. You.”

  “I love you, too,” I stutter through all the bubbling emotions. “With everything I am.”

  “Then, what are we talking about?”

  His mouth is on mine before I can catch a breath. My fingers hastily explore his jaw, his neck, and his head of hair before finding their way to the hem of his shirt. There, they peek and flirt with the warm bare skin beneath, another point of remembrance and home.

  His body is my home. His soul is where I reside. And his lips are the doorway to it all.

  “Brent,” I breathe, trying to pull away.

  “Stop.”

  He shuts me up with his wicked tongue, rubbing and sucking my own. All I need is him. One touch, one kiss, and everything melts away. All the emptiness and worry, the hollow ache in my chest—they’re gone. I’m instantly revived, and my being is whole. There’s so much comfort and ease now that he’s here. My anxiety and dismay feel like they were all for nothing.

  I press my body to his, and the warmth of his chest consumes me as he continues to slay me with his mouth. He knows what I need, and he came here to give it to me. He’s willing to give up everything for me.

  My stomach caves with guilt.

  I never asked for that.

  I could never live with that.

  “Just take me with you,” I implore against his jaw. “That’s all I want.”

  “You’re not quitting school.”

  I stop kissing him and step completely out of his arms. We hold one another’s gaze for a long time. It’s stretched out enough for me to realize the gravity of what he’s doing and what he’s proposing. There’s something romantic and beautiful in it, but it’s not practical. It’s fraught with future resentment.

  “You can’t do this,” I tell him. “I love you and need you in so many ways, but I could never live with myself if you stay.”

  “I don’t see it any other way. I’m not taking anything away from you. You made what you want clear.”

  “I know, but…” I grunt, frustrated by the hand we’ve been dealt over and over again. It keeps us fighting for each other, yet still we remain apart. The obstacles we face are never-ending.

  He takes a cautious step forward and then another. After one more, his arms are around my back. I tuck into his chest, and he rests his chin on my head. Our breaths work in rhythm, accompanying the beat of our hearts.

  “What are we supposed to do?” he asks into my hair.

  “I wish I knew.”

  “You know, if you weren’t so stubborn, this would be a lot easier.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I lift my chin, tilting my view toward him. “And if you weren’t so overly romantic and wonderful, this would be a lot easier, too.”

  He smirks, shakes his head, and then tightens his embrace around me. “I’ll work on being a dick, if it will make things easier, of course.”

  “Seriously, who flies across the country overnight on a whim and offers to give up his rising career just for some girl?”

  He disengages his arms, walks toward the kitchen area, and then faces me, leaning his backside against the counter.

  “This guy does,” he replies. “You’re not just some girl. You’re not even a girl. You’re the woman my whole world revolves around.”

  “And my world is you.”

  Forty

  “Are you going to miss me?” Brent asks, nose at my ear.

  “Likely, but I doubt I’ll have time.”

  “That’s true. We’ll be together again before you know it.”

  “In just a few days.”

  He kisses me hotly on the mouth and then exits out the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. At the steps, he turns around and waves. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Very soon.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  When he’s out of sight, I close the door and relish in the anticipation of what’s to come. I will see him again and soon.

  We have a plan, and it’s one we’re both willing to work with.

  Meandering through my apartment, it feels lighter but not empty. I walk into the dressing room, open the closet, and finger the garments Brent left behind—not because he forgot them, but because he’s coming back. I switch on the bathroom light, finding a small sense of peace at the sight of his toothbrush next to mine. These items live here now, and he does, too.

  More importantly, he lives with me.

  After talking about our options, we knew that neither one of us was going to budge on letting the other person give up on any dreams. In the end, the most important thing was that we were together. It didn’t matter where because our home was only with each other. The rest was just geography.

  It is going to take some adjustments, but that’s how love goes. We are both prepared to give up everything for each other, so these tiny sacrifices are easy to accept.

  Life is full of concessions when love is in the picture—especially a true, all-encompassing love like ours. Putting us first was the only thing we could agree on, so we compromised on the rest. It’s not ideal, but we get all that we want for ourselves and for each other.

  Switching off the light, I venture into the main room of our apartment, letting my fingers graze the furniture full of memories from our new beginning. I think, in some ways, Brent’s subconscious had a plan when he bought these. He was putting up stakes in my space in more ways than one.

  Taking a seat on the warm brown leather chair, I rest my computer on my lap and open the most recent email from Brent. I’ve read it a few times now. He sent it after we jointly made the arrangements together, and it still warms my heart. It’s full of our tomorrows, and there are many.

  I’ll see you in San Jose in four days. I love you.

  Below his note is an itinerary of flights for the next six weeks, some for him and some for me, spread three-to-five days apart. It’s not practical. It’s almost ridiculous. I don’t even allow myself to think about the cost. That was part of my concessions—to allow him to pay for it all. Brent was like a kid in a candy store with the freedom to give us everything. I never knew he was holding back so much, all because of me.

  He’s not holding back anything now.

  We’re in this together. We want the world for each other and with each other.

  Love is patient, impractical, and sometimes hard. It has made us crazy at times and broken us into a million little pieces. It has healed us both, filling in the cracks created by our lives and our past, and welded us into a stronger, more permanent fixture. It has bound us together for what I now know will be forever because neither one of us will have it any other way.

  The Day

  Today is the day I’ve been working toward for the last two months. I’ve made all the arrangements, and after the game tonight, I’m telling Brent. It’s been difficult to keep this secret from him, especially with the entire behind-the-scenes steps I’ve been taking to wrap up my life in Chicago ahead of schedule.

  Since that moment we made the decision to make us work no matter what, my he
art has been at peace. We see each other weekly, if not more, and it’s been just enough to keep us moving forward with our relationship and with our lives—mine in Chicago and his in L.A.—that we began before coming back together as a couple. The balance might be difficult for some but not us. Loving him is easy.

  Taking my seat next to Cohen, I tug my hat tightly over my ears to shield away the cool spring Chicago breeze blowing through the stadium. Brent’s team is playing an early-season game this afternoon against our local team, and his brother flew into town since it’s closer than many of the West Coast games. It’s good to see Cohen again. We caught up about a month ago in Salt Lake City at another one of Brent’s games.

  “Hey, guys,” Mara says, plopping down next to me with pretzels and drinks in hand. “It’s too freaking cold for this.”

  “Has New York made you soft?” I ask, taking one of the pretzels. “Or are you just bitchier?”

  “Shit! I’m like a kitten compared to the lions out there.”

  “I’m sure you fit in purr-fectly.”

  “Cute, Rubes,” she replies. “Not clever or obvious at all.”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t going for clever.”

  She sits back, buttons up her jacket, and adjusts her gloves. Mara coming into town was my idea. Since she and Kenzie moved for Mara’s new job in New York, I haven’t seen Mara at all. I’m planning to make that leap and move to California in the next month. This might be the last time we can easily see each other, so she made the trip at my request. It’s almost a last good-bye.

  Over the winter quarter, I made arrangements to finish my last and final classes for graduation remotely. My advisers have agreed to work with me as long as I come back to present my final projects at the end of spring quarter. I already made the preparations to sublet my apartment, and I have movers lined up to ship the two pieces of furniture that matter to us most out to California.

  It’s my gift to Brent and to us to allow us to be together. While a traveling relationship has been fun and seeing Brent has been my world, this setup is not ideal.