by S. Cook
Attached to the letter was a picture of him with the dog. The scars on his face were still noticeable, but the stitches were all gone.
The dog was small at the time. A lab puppy, black with big, brown eyes. He detailed his physical therapy. Apologizing for how short the letters were and explaining that he was exhausted.
I wonder if it was like this when I learned to walk the first time? Probably not. It was all new then. Now I have to relearn everything. This all feels like a lost cause. It hurts and my body doesn't listen to me willingly anymore. It's like I'm fighting myself at every turn but everyone keeps saying I'm doing better and talking about hope. But I don't feel any different. It feels the same as it felt right after the accident. When I wasn't dead.
I squinted at the page. These were Gabriel's words. All of them. They were his thoughts and he had been writing to me at least once a week for almost three years. And I understood how he felt because I felt like that now. All the time. The pictures were few and far between, but they showed him getting better.
From bed, to wheelchair, to walker, to cane.
His hair grew out, along with a beard. The dog got bigger too, from a tiny puppy into a massive lab with heavy paws and please forgive me eyes.
He talked about his work. Managing the family business. His parents passing off more and more duties in an effort to keep him occupied until finally he was in control of the whole business. He wrote about it, covering the basics in bits and snatches of information. Manufacturing soap of all things.
I pulled out the last picture he had sent. In all the photos he was smiling. Only with his mouth and never with his eyes. He never looked at the person holding the camera the way he looked at me.
I pulled my knees to my chin and stared at the picture in my hand. The man in the photo was not the man who had held me that morning. He was not the man who had stood next to me urging me to smile so he could capture my picture. The man in the photo was haunted. His green eyes were cloudy and dull.
I tapped the photo against my lips and laid down on the cot, closing the binder. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. Looking at my phone, I saw it was almost nine and I had missed five calls. They were all from him. He hadn't left any voice-mails for me. I stared at the phone, unsure what to do next. It vibrated in my hand.
“Gabriel,” I said slowly, letting his name roll off my tongue.
“You finally answered.”
“Yes, sorry. I was a bit wrapped up.”
“How did your meeting go?”
“Uhm...” I didn't want to talk about it, so I said, “I opened the package.”
“You did?”
“Yes, and I read your letters.”
“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice losing its earlier bravado.
“I guess we should, right?”
I sighed.
“I’ll be right there,” he said.
“Wait...”
“What?”
I bit my lip and glanced around the office.
“Dinner would be nice. Can you pick something up on the way?”
“I’m on it,” he said, and the call disconnected.
It wasn’t even half an hour when I heard his Audi stop in the parking lot. I’d memorized the sound of the engine and the sound of his out-of-rhythm footsteps. I had it all in my mind because I knew when all was said and done, when he left, I could remember everything about him. I went to the front and opened the door for him. He smiled at me, even though the worry was evident in his eyes.
“Hey,” he said and kissed me on the cheek.
“Hey,” I replied with a dull smile.
I closed the door again and made sure to lock it this time.
“Let me take that for you,” I said and took the bag from him.
We walked to the office, where the desk was still in a state of disarray.
“What happened in here?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, trying to catch up on a bit of paperwork. It’s piled up a bit,” I explained.
“That looks like a year’s worth of backlog.”
“Something like that.”
I shrugged, clearing out the cot so that he could sit down. He looked tired and I wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
“Here, sit down. You look tired.”
“I’m okay.”
“So how was your day?”
“I got a call from my father,” he said. “I was supposed to have been back today, and he just wanted to know what was going on.”
“He knows about me, obviously.”
“Yeah.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“Well...”
“You didn't tell him,” I mumbled, “about you and me.”
“Look, Lynette, the topic of you and me isn't something that I want to tell him over the phone.”
“Why not?” I asked.
He placed his hand over mine and smiled slightly.
“Because it’s too important. You deserve more than that.”
I squeezed his hand, as no words were necessary in that moment.
“I have to go back home for a bit,” he said.
“I know.”
“But I’m going to tell them about us, and then I’ll be back, okay?”
“I don't want to disrupt your life, Gabriel.”
“You’re the best disruption my life has ever had.”
I smiled slowly and nodded.
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” I said softly and glanced at the binder beside us. “Do you want to talk about this.”
“You read it all?”
“I did. I had some free time today.”
“You must have questions.”
“That I do.”
I placed the binder on my lap and opened it.
“Why didn't you send these? You knew where I was. Why did you just keep them?”
He was silent for a moment before beginning.
“I didn't know where you were. I had an idea. I knew the town.”
“You knew the bar, though.”
“I found the bar only after I started writing you letters. And by then I had really started to write you. I didn't just want to apologize to you. I wanted to get to know you. But most of all I wanted...”
“Someone to talk to?” I prompted.
“Yeah,” he said.
He pushed his hair back and out of his face, like he did every time he felt uncomfortable.
“Oh god, you probably think I'm some sort of stalker. Again.”
I laughed, looking at his photo.
“No, I don't think you're stalking me. I do think this is a little weird though.”
“Weird? Yes, it's strange. But does that mean it's not real?”
Gabriel's voice was shaky.
“I don't know. I'm really bad at all of this.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t.” I sighed. “This is just all so much to take in, you know. The binder, what happened with Terry, you, these feelings I have, the bar. I can’t deal with it all at once.”
I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.
“Lynette.”
“No, it’s fine. Forget I even mentioned it.”
“If you’re in trouble, you can tell me.”
“Please don’t. I really don't have the strength to deal with this right now. I’ve had a long and tiring day. I just want to eat and forget about everything that makes me feel like I’m failing. Okay?”
“Okay, I’m sorry if I pressed.”
“I know you mean well. I really do, but can we just forget about my troubles? Even if it’s just for a couple of hours.”
“Sure,” he agreed after a moment.
We ate our food in silence, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. His presence, albeit overwhelming, was comforting and I felt safe, untouchable even. I could conquer the world with him by my side,
and I dreaded the fact that he was leaving in the morning.
Hot tears welled up in my eyes when it came to saying good-bye to him, but I didn't allow them to fall, because then Gabriel would know that I wasn't as okay as I said I was.
Why couldn't I open up to him? Why couldn't I just tell him how scared I was, or how hopeless I felt? He opened himself up to me, completely. He was even going back home to tell his parents about me in person.
“Don’t look so sad, baby,” he said as we stood outside the bar.
I smiled half-heartedly, put my arms around his waist and held him tight. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and I fought hard not to cry.
He stroked my hair and softly said, “I’ll be back.”
I looked up at him and whispered, “Promise?”
“I promise,” he whispered back at me and kissed the tip of my nose.
I finally let go of him, and watched as he climbed in his car, waving at me one last time. As I watched his car disappear into the night, I realized that I had never felt this lonely in my entire life.
A part of me wished that he wouldn’t come back. Sure, it would hurt, but it’d also seem easier. I didn't want him to be a part of my broken, upside down, pathetic life. He deserved so much better. He deserved a pretty girl who came from a functional family, who was wholesome and happy.
I was far from someone like that.
It wasn't even the type of person I aspired to become, because those were unrealistic, unreachable expectations.
I could never be that person, and I would never be good enough for Gabriel.
I knew that, and deep down inside, he had to know it too.
Chapter Fourteen: Gabriel
The air was so much cooler when I stepped out of the airport in Augusta, which was only a short drive to my hometown. It sure as hell beat the hot and humid climate down in Tampa, but I missed Florida already.
I’d only been gone for a couple of hours, but it felt like days, weeks. Especially since I knew that Lynette had to deal with everything on her own now. Not that she wasn't used to it. It didn't matter to me that she was going to lose the bar, or that her father was an alcoholic, or that her life was in shambles. I wanted to help her, and to protect her, but she kept pushing me away.
Her behavior sometimes confused me.
While she tried so hard to keep her distance, a part of her didn't want to let go, and clung on so tight, as if her life depended on it. I understood that she wanted to give the impression that she was strong, but she didn't have to pretend with me.
It was okay to not have your life together all the time. I didn't even have my life together.
My car waited for me in the parking lot, and I climbed in, the familiar smell of the leather filling my nostrils.
The smell of home.
I drove to my hometown, every now and then glancing at my phone. I had sent Lynette a message before I left the airport, just to let her know that I arrived in one piece.
I could tell she’d been sad, hiding it with her jokes and laughter. She wasn't hard to read anymore. I knew she was hurt and kept a lot of things to herself. I didn't want her to feel forced to talk to me.
People like Lynette shut down when pushed.
It was a little hurtful that she felt she couldn't talk to me about the things that were going wrong in her life. I wanted to be there for her, but I knew she had her own reasons.
All I could do was respect her wishes and give her time. If she didn't want to tell me, then so be it.
I turned off the main road and made my way to my parent’s house, because I was obligated to go there first. Knowing my parents, they’d probably be waiting outside, with the whole town, holding ‘Welcome Home’ banners and food that could feed a small country.
Luckily, that wasn't the case.
I parked the car on the side of the road, since my father’s truck was parked in the driveway, and as soon as I climbed out, the front door opened. My mother ran over to me with outstretched arms, ready to grip me tight and never let me go. Even if I’d only been gone a little while.
“Oh, Gabriel. I’m so glad you’re home.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to her. Typical overprotective, loving mom.
“Hey, Mom. I’m home.”
She threw her arms around me and hugged me.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“I was gone for a week,” I pointed out and she laughed.
“Let me see you,” she said and gave me a thorough look-over.
“I still look the same, Mom.”
“Have you eaten? You’ve wasted away,” she said as she practically dragged me up to the house.
My dad was on the front porch. He stood and hugged me.
“Good to have you home, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Roscoe burst out the door like a raging bull and clambered over me.
“Hey, buddy. Did you miss me, huh?”
“He’s been sulking ever since you left,” Mom said.
We all went inside with Roscoe on our heels. My mother headed straight for the kitchen.
“Your mother’s been cooking up a storm.”
“I smelled that the moment she hugged me.”
My mother loved cooking, especially for me and my dad. She believed that all of life’s problems and difficulties could be fixed by a hearty meal, which was probably why I had the natural inclination to feed Lynette.
“How are you doing? You’re looking a little tanned,” Dad said.
“It’s a different kind of sun down there in Tampa. Feels like it could burn the life right out of you, not even to mention the humidity.”
“Tropical weather never did me well either. I remember the days when I traveled to Florida. I was convinced they’d have to bury me there.”
“At least now I know you weren’t exaggerating.”
“I never exaggerate,” he grumbled.
“Since when,” my mother asked as she entered the room with a fully loaded plate of food. “There you go, honey. You must be starving after your flight.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said gratefully with a smile.
I’d learned not to argue with my mother when it came to food. This was just one of those times where I smiled and thanked her. Who know how long she stood in front of the stove preparing this for me, so I wasn't about to insult her.
She watched me take a few bites and then seemed satisfied that I wasn't sneaking it to Roscoe.
“So, how was your trip?” Mom asked. “Your father tells me that you ran into a few complications.”
I exchanged glances with my father and nodded.
“I did.”
“Did you manage to uncomplicated them?”
“Well, I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Like I said to you over the phone we have time to hear the story,” Dad said.
I sighed and placed the plate on the side table.
“Oh, this can’t be good,” Mom muttered under her breath.
I smiled briefly and looked at them.
“Terry’s sister was not what I expected. When he told me about her, he described this young girl who had stars in her eyes and hopes and dreams. The girl I met was nothing like her.”
My Mom seemed confused. “We don’t follow,” she said. “What are you saying?”
“Lynette is dealing with a lot right now. Her father is an alcoholic, the bank is about to foreclose on the bar that her father owns, but she manages. Her staff are unreliable and she’s going to lose the bar, and she doesn't want to tell me about it. I know she’s going through a lot, and even though she keeps pushing me away, I want to help her. I want her life to be better, and easier. Not only because Terry asked me to.”
“It sounds like you really care about her,” Dad said.
“I think he does more than care,” Mom whispered to him but loud enough for me to hear.
I glanced
over at her and nodded ever so slightly.
“You’re in love with this girl,” Dad said matter-of-factly.
“I definitely feel something for her, something that I’ve never felt for anyone else before.”
My parents exchanged glances and their gaze rested on me again. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, awaiting the impending lecture that would arise from this information.
“So when do we get to meet this girl?” Mom asked with too much fake enthusiasm.
“You’re not upset?”
“Gabriel, we’ve never heard you talking about a girl, or a woman in that way before,” Mom said. “You’re different, a good different, and we’re happy for you. Your smile finally reaches your eyes again.”
She reached over and covered my hand with hers.
She was right.
I was different before. I left Maine on a mission to meet Terry’s sister and help her any way that I could. I left my home with the sole purpose of fulfilling my duty to Terry, and not breaking the promise I made to him.
I owed him that, even though it would be difficult to look at Lynette and not think of Terry. All the late-night conversations we had in our tent, or the jokes we made to lighten the mood whenever there was another empty sleeping bag, another fallen brother.
Never in my life did I expect to pick up a woman in a gay club and take her back to a cheap hotel room. I didn't expect Lynette to be that kind of woman either, but the longer I came to know her, I realized that she wasn't that woman.
Nor was I that man any longer.
We’d both changed. We changed each other and we changed ourselves in the process.
“Son?”
“I promised her that I’d be back soon.”
“And you should. It sounds like she needs you.”
“I know and trust me when I say that I want to jump on the next plane to Tampa, but there are a few things I need to do here first.”
***
The next morning I drove out to Long Pond in my dad’s truck. Roscoe sat on the seat beside me, his head hanging out the window. All my life, I wished I could be as carefree as a dog letting his ears blow in the wind, but life didn't always give you what you wanted.
