Single in Sitka

by Katy Regnery

  I don’t know how to do this, I think as we ride back to Amanda’s house in silence.

  When I fell in love with Wendy, it was just her and me. I could give her every moment of my time. I could think about her nonstop every second of the day. Now? Thoughts of Amanda need to be sandwiched in between thoughts of my kids and vice versa. No one gets all of me. There just isn’t enough of me to go around. It’s exhausting. And tonight, it was dangerous.

  I don’t know the whole story yet, but from what I can put together, Meghan probably got separated from her siblings and was found by a predator who ingratiated himself to her by claiming to be a friend of her mother’s. After getting her a balloon and some cotton candy, he was planning to take her to an abandoned barn to take a hayride that didn’t exist. And then what?

  Jesus.

  It makes an almost unbearable chill go down my spine.

  What if Amanda hadn’t found her?

  I could have lost my baby tonight.

  Wendy, I’m so sorry, I think. I promise I’ll never let anything like this happen ever again.

  But how? How exactly am I going to keep that promise?

  Because when I’m with Amanda, I’m consumed by her—in large part because I don’t get to see her enough. All of my feelings, my longings, my wants and needs are bottled up during our time apart. And then when she’s in front of me? I’m blinded. I can barely see anything but her, my own children included!

  We need to be in the same place. Geographically. It’s hard enough to make a relationship work when you live near each other. Long distance, as much as I wish it was possible for us, just doesn’t make any sense.

  One or both of us needs to move.

  And if we can’t, or won’t, make that happen, we need to let go of each other. The sooner, the better. Before we become more attached.

  Except, we are attached.

  I care deeply for her. Today, when I had a perfect opportunity to tell my girls that I didn’t love Amanda, I couldn’t say it. Why?

  I glance to my left, resting my eyes on her profile for a second.

  Because I’m already in love with her.

  And when there is no part of me surprised by this revelation, I realize that I’ve probably felt this way for a little while now. Maybe even since that rainy day, so many weeks ago, when she was walking by the side of the road crying and demanded that I leave her alone. I couldn’t then, and I can’t now.

  There’s got to be a way for us to be together in a place where we both feel safe and happy and fulfilled. The world’s a big place. Maybe our destiny doesn’t lie in Sitka or Seattle. Maybe the home we build together is somewhere else entirely.

  But where? I wonder, sighing heavily as I look out the window at the city she loves and hope we can find some common ground somewhere to share together.

  ***

  When we get back to Amanda’s apartment, she grabs a toiletry bag, a towel, and a change of clothes and says she’ll shower and change downstairs at the pool so we can use her bathroom.

  I blow up the air mattresses and make the kids beds as they shower, brush their teeth, and change into pajamas, then we sit together on Amanda’s couch and talk about what happened tonight. I ask Meghan if the man touched any part of her body other than her hand, and she tells me that he didn’t. I apologize to Chad for giving him too much responsibility in an unknown place and reassure him that losing Meg wasn’t his fault.

  Gilly tells me that right before Meghan appeared with the stranger, Amanda had taken off her shoes and handed them to Gillian.

  “She was going through the mesh fence,” she says. “She told me to stay put...that she was going out to that old barn alone to find Meg.”

  “Alone?”

  Gilly nods. “She wouldn’t let me come because she said it wasn’t safe. She told me to wait for you.”

  An image of that barn pops up in my mind. It was pretty far away from the perimeter of the carnival grounds...dark and abandoned, maybe thirty or forty yards away. And Amanda was going after my daughter alone? What the hell was she thinking?

  And that’s when I realize that she wasn’t thinking. Not about herself, anyway. The only person she was thinking about was my baby girl, and suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for her; it courses through me like a drug. She would’ve walked into a dangerous situation to try to save my daughter. It humbles me to realize how selfless she is, how much she must care about me and my kids. I want to see her. I need to talk to her.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, turning off the light to my left, “it’s been an exciting day. How about you all get some sleep, huh?”

  They get onto their mattresses and snuggle under their blankets, side by side by side, and I kiss each one on the forehead in turn.

  “Hey, um, Dad,” says Chad softly when I get to him.

  I squat alongside his bed. “What, son?”

  “I’m...s-sorry,” he says, his voice catching.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I say.

  “Not about that,” he says with a soft sob. “About...Amanda. About not l-liking her.”

  “Ah. Well...I can’t force you to like her,” I whisper, tousling his hair.

  “B-But I do. I do like her,” he says. “That’s why I’m s-s-so mad at m-myself.”

  “Because you feel like you’re betraying your mom?”

  “Uh-huh. Yeah.” He sniffles softly.

  This kid, my oldest, my boy scout, who’s taken on so much responsibility since his mom passed away. It’s a wonder he doesn’t break under the strain.

  “You’re worried that liking Amanda means you don’t love your mom?”

  “S-Sorta.”

  “Let me ask you a question: do you think your Mom would’ve been friends with someone like Amanda?”

  “I dunno.” He shrugs his small shoulders under the covers. “Probably. I mean...she would’ve gone into that b-barn alone to get M-Meg, right?”

  “I guess that was her plan.”

  “Mom loved anyone who...you know...who loved us.”

  “Yes, she did,” I say. “You were the most important people in her world.”

  “They could’ve b-been...f-friends,” he says, reaching up to swipe at his nose.

  “Then maybe you could be friends with her too,” I say. “You only get one mom. You had a great one. But in this life, you can have unlimited friends, which is kind of great.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He sniffles again, then settles his head back against the pillow. “Maybe she and I could be, you know, just friends.”

  “I think she’d really like that,” I say, leaning down to press my lips to his forehead again. “And I think your mom would’ve been okay with it too.”

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice getting deeper and drowsier, “she would’ve been okay with it.”

  “I love you, son.”

  “Love you, Dad,” he says, his eyes fluttering closed before I’m standing all the way up.

  Just as I straighten up to my full height, the apartment door opens, and Amanda steps inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “All asleep?” she whispers.

  “Almost,” I say.

  There’s a palpable tension in the air between us. Conversations that need to be had and words that need to be exchanged are hovering, lingering. It’s heavy and overwhelming, and all I really want to do is get into bed beside her and get lost in the curves and valleys of her warm body.

  “Tired?” I ask her.

  “Exhausted,” she answers.

  “Can we talk a little bit?”

  “I guess we should,” she says, placing her towel and bag on the hallway table. Her bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry about today. I’m sorry it was such a disaster.”

  I cross the room, sweep her into my arms, walk down the hall to her bedroom, and deposit her gently on the bed. “Get under the covers.”

  “What about you?”

  I pull off my T-shirt and tug down my jeans until all I’m wearing is a pair of b
oxer briefs. I slide under the sheets beside her, reaching for her. “Come here.”

  She scoots closer to me, until our heads are side by side on matching pillows and our noses are almost touching. “Worst day ever.”

  “Not even close,” I tell her. “You saved my daughter’s life. I call that a win.”

  “Barely,” she says. “And Chad hates me.”

  “He doesn’t,” I tell her, reaching up to thread my fingers through her damp red hair and push it gently off her cheek. “In fact, tonight he told me he was sorry for how he’s been acting and he’s hoping you two can be friends.”

  “I’d really like that,” she whispers.

  “Gilly and Meg are already crazy about you.”

  “I’m crazy about them too. All of them.” She pauses. “But, Luke...another minute. Another thirty seconds, I would’ve missed her. He—that...that bastard would’ve dragged her through the fence to that abandoned barn and...and—”

  “You were there,” I tell her, nuzzling her nose. “Would you really have gone into that barn alone?”

  “Of course,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I would’ve done anything to save her.”

  “I think...” I pause because I didn’t know I was going to say this tonight, but suddenly the words are on the tip of my tongue and I want to say them—I want her to know. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  She takes a deep breath, then exhales, the sweet, warm puff of air caressing my face. “I’m falling in love with you too.”

  Whatever I expected her to say back, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the bounty, the generosity, the sweet satisfaction of her feelings in remuneration for mine. I’m overwhelmed. For the second time today, tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I’m grateful that it’s so dark, that she can’t see.

  I lean forward, finding her lips with mine, licking away the saltiness of her tears and pulling her into my arms. Our bodies are tired, but we reach for each other, stripping each other down to nakedness and offering the comfort we can only find by sharing the most secret, sacred places of our physical being.

  And after we have quietly and tenderly found release, we curl up against each other, letting our eyes close as our breathing finds a common rhythm.

  I love this woman and she loves me, and I vow to do whatever it takes to figure out our future.

  Chapter 15

  Amanda

  It’s been two weeks since the debacle at the carnival, and though Luke and I talk on the phone every night, we’re avoiding the major issues between us: distance and a plan for the future.

  We talk about the kids a lot—Gilly and Meg love their summer camp, and Chad has been mowing lawns for spending money—and he asks about my job. He tells me about his work too, making me laugh about the recruits who got caught “fraternizing” in the janitor’s closet and how one of his female students bowed out of the class because she found it too challenging. He was especially sorry about that, since she’d showed a lot of promise. I send him pictures of Kai, who has four chins and has started smiling (I refuse to believe it’s gas.)

  The days are long without him near me, but I haven’t got any vacation time to spare, and we decided that a visit during Labor Day weekend, when we’d have an extra day together, made the most sense. The problem is that it’s only mid-July, and that means six weeks until I see his face again. I know this is what long distance looks like, but it’s getting me down. I’m so fucking lonely for my man.

  Leigh is taking the lead on our July piece—a story about motherhood—which leaves me working as her researcher/editor this month. It surprises me that a topic I would have imagined somewhat foreign to me on a personal level suddenly feels so interesting and organic. I can’t get enough of articles about parenting in the 2000s, and when I read one blog post that speaks to the maternal instinct of stepmothers, I instantly flashback to taking off my shoes by that muddy field and handing them to Gilly.

  I would have done anything to save Luke’s daughter in that moment; it makes me realize that not only am I attached to him; I have feelings for his kids too—real feelings, despite the fact that I’m not their birth mother or even their stepmother. And yes, I’d like to be their friend, but I realize I’d like to be more than that for them: just like the exclusive relationship I have with their dad, I’d like to be someone unique and special in their lives too. But it’s confusing to feel this way about young people who are not mine, two of whom have very vivid memories of a mother they loved and lost.

  My feelings for Luke don’t wane or tire from the distance between us but have deepened to the point of aching. We don’t say “I love you” when we hang up every night—I guess we’re not quite there yet...but hearing about his life on a daily basis makes me long to be with him. I show up for work on time. I still go to yoga twice a week. I still meet up with friends for brunch on Sundays. But in general, being far from Luke is making me listless. What’s the point of going out with friends when he’s not there? When he isn’t sitting beside me, laughing at some clever comment or sharing his opinion on the topic at hand? And coming home to a quiet, empty apartment? It magnifies my yearning for him. The distance between us has frustrated me for quite some time, but now it’s making me sad, and a little—I hate this word, but I grudgingly have to admit it’s accurate—depressed.

  So when Leigh proposes a girl’s day out toward the end of July, I’m only too happy to say yes. She tells me she’ll pick me up at ten o’clock on Saturday morning but won’t tell me where we’re going. It’s a surprise.

  “Hi!” I call, racing out of the front doors of my apartment building and hopping into the passenger side of Jude’s Seahawks-purple Ford Mustang convertible.

  “Hey!” she says, grinning at me. “Throw your bag in the back!”

  As she pulls away from the curb, I glance at her. “Okay. Spill it. Where are we going?”

  “Where have we always gone when we needed a getaway?”

  “Whidbey,” I say automatically. “Wait! Are we going to Whidbey Island today?”

  “Of course. I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

  “I thought maybe you were taking me to the Outlet Collection,” I say, referring to an outlet mall in Auburn about thirty minutes south of downtown. “For some retail therapy.”

  “Nah. Too close to home. We need a minigetaway, girl. You’re a mess.”

  Wow. Okay. That’s Leigh, pulling no punches.

  “Are you comfortable going all the way there?” I ask. “I mean, are you okay being away from Kai all day?”

  “Well,” she says, “Jude has enough pumped milk to feed that child for three days, let alone one, and besides, it’s time.”

  “Time?”

  “Uh-huh. I love my baby, but it’s time for Mama to have a day off.” She sniffles softly, her emotions a little softer than her words. “It’ll be good for me.”

  “Now who’s a mess?” I ask, handing her a tissue.

  She swipes at her eyes. “Allergies.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Okay, fine. We’ll be messes together. You can miss Luke all day, and I’ll miss Kai all day. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I say as she turns onto the I-5 going north.

  While I see Leigh at the office a good deal and stop by her house at least twice a week since Kai was born, it’s been a long time since we had a girl’s day out together, and for the first time in a while, I feel a lightness in my heart, like everything’s going to be all right.

  “I needed this,” I say.

  “I know,” she answers, glancing over at me. “You gotta figure this out, Manda. You... Luke... Sitka... Seattle.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “It’s not as hard as you’re making it either.”

  I shift in my seat to face her. “Listen, I’ve visited Sitka, and it’s not a place I could be happy. I mean, it’s gorgeous, of course, and the downtown is cute, and the people are nice, but it’s not me, Leigh. There are ei
ght thousand people there. The Arts and Culture section of Sitka on Wikipedia consists of a few historic buildings and one annual, week-long festival. The news department of the Daily Sitka Sentinel has two reporters. Once you’re there, you’re trapped. The only way off the island is by plane or boat. I just...I can’t give up everything here and move there. I can’t.”

  “It’s small. I get it.”

  “It’s not just small. It’s miniscule. Besides, I’m not into hiking and wildlife, and that’s practically requisite for living there. I’m into libraries and movie theaters. Plays and museums.”

  “Sitka doesn’t have a movie theater?”

  “One. Single screen,” I lament.

  “You could write,” she says. “A novel or—”

  “I’m not a novel writer,” I point out. “Plus, I love my job...and my writing partner.”

  “But Luke and his kids are there,” Leigh points out. “And you want to be with them.”

  “I do, but I’m afraid...” I pause, because I hate what I’m about to say, even though it’s the truth. “I’m afraid I’d grow to resent them if I moved there only for them. Luke will be at work all day. The kids will be at school. I’ll be alone in Sitka, and that’s just not where I want to be.”

  Leigh nods as we speed up the highway toward the Mukilteo ferry. “And he definitely isn’t interested in moving to Seattle?”

  “I think he thinks Seattle is literally the seventh circle of hell.” I take a deep breath and sigh loudly. “I wish I could say it’s just because he hasn’t given it a chance, but he has. He grew up here and went to college here. And he’s come to visit me twice. He doesn’t like the city. It’s not for him, and I get it. I really do. Look, if Meghan had wandered off in Sitka, one of eight thousand fellow citizens would have walked her back to her father, older siblings, or aunt. It’s small and safe for raising kids. Only four violent crimes in the past five years. Seattle’s crime rate is...significantly higher.”

  “You’ve been doing your research,” says Leigh.