To Say Goodbye

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “I’m not.”

  “You look like you’ve got it together.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Stella looked at Sophia. “That’s all you can do. Just keep trying, Soph. That’s what he would want.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Sophia stared at the floor in silence, the realization that a day’s worth of work couldn’t make everything go away.

  “I guess I should get going.”

  “You want to do something? You okay?” Stella asked, standing now to take a load of towels to the laundry area.

  “I’m okay, Stella. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The two hugged as Stella walked her to the door.

  “Soph?” Stella asked, and Sophia turned around.

  “Love you. I’m glad you’re back. I missed you. Plus, the customers have been complaining. My pink lemonade isn’t nearly as good as yours.”

  Sophia smiled. “Love you back.”

  Then she headed to her car and home, or at least to the empty shell of the home remaining after Tim’s death. She’d put in a day. She’d survived.

  But how many more would she have to get through?

  CHAPTER TWO

  JACKSON

  The heavy liquid skirted down his throat, bubbling as it went. He pulled the glass bottle back and set it on the end table as his free hand flipped through the channels. One lonely lamp across the room gave the living area an eerie glow. He barely noticed, his eyes glued to the television, his feet propped up on the coffee table near the Chinese takeout containers.

  Upstairs, a couple quarreled, someone stomping from room to room. He was already tired of his neighbors, tired of the apartment life. But what else did he have? The rent was cheap, cheap enough to afford on his wages at the restaurant. Plus, he was alone now. He didn’t need much space. He was a bachelor, living the life some men dreamed of. It was a dream that had become his personal nightmare.

  Some things about his life were good. It was nice to be living in one place, to not be at the mercy of the army, to not be constantly relocated. It was good to have a stable routine coupled with some freedom. It was nice to be back in his hometown, to be close to his parents again, to spend time with his family. His sister, Gretta, was only twenty minutes away with her husband and son. It was good to be in close proximity to them. This wasn’t enough to cheer him up, though. Too much had been lost. First Chloe, then Logan. And now Tim was gone.

  True, Tim hadn’t really been a huge part of his life anymore. Life’s business, the hectic state of their individual career paths kept them apart. Life had forced them apart. Now, death had permanently severed any chance of them restoring their friendship.

  That didn’t make the blow any less terrible. It seemed like Jackson couldn’t catch a break these days. Everything crumbled around him, making him paranoid. He was on edge, wondering what would be next.

  His cellphone rang, causing him to jump. Looking at the screen, he saw the name. It was Chloe returning his call. Finally.

  “Hello?” his voice cracked. He hadn’t used it in several hours, sitting in solitude after his shift at La Familia De Rinoldo. Now, it sounded broken.

  “I listened to your messages. All six of them. Jackson, stop calling me. Everything’s been settled.”

  “I know, I just, I thought maybe since it’s Logan’s birthday, we could make an exception.”

  Chloe huffed loudly into the phone. “You know it’s not your weekend. The agreement gave me his birthday this year.”

  “I know, Chloe. But it’s his birthday. I don’t want to miss it. Please.”

  “Jackson, no. You know I’m not making any exceptions. The court made its decision. This weekend is mine.”

  “Please don’t do this.”

  “I didn’t do anything. You did it. You made the choice.”

  “I know I fucked up. But you can’t keep my son from me.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  The phone clicked. It was done.

  Jackson gritted his teeth, trying to quell the surging anger. He wanted to scream, wanted to drive the two hours to Chloe’s new house and flip out. He wanted to hit the man who was now playing his role, who Logan was probably already calling Daddy. He wanted to take Logan and leave the country. Instead, he took another pull from his beer. As rational thought took over, he realized if he wanted to be mad at anyone, it should be himself.

  Yeah, Chloe had messed up. She made her share of mistakes, burned him badly.

  Jackson was the one to make the mistakes leading to the final loss, though, the worst loss. He was the reason Logan was gone from his life.

  He was the only one to blame. His life was on a downward spiral, had been for some time. And there was no one to turn to now, not really.

  When he’d come back into town, he’d hoped to find what he’d been missing, to sort things out. He’d thought this town would allow him to reconnect with the person he’d once been. Now though, with all things happening as they were, he wasn’t sure it was possible.

  He finished his beer, turned off the television, and went to bed, hopeless and alone, wondering if life could possibly get any worse.

  He’d left the army to settle into a life, the life he’d always dreamed about.

  The only problem was the life he wanted to reclaim had collapsed around him. And he hadn’t even known it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JACKSON

  “Order up,” Jackson yelled as he turned back to the Chicken Cordon Bleu he was making. He used his forearm to rub the sweat away from his brow as he busied his hands with the next task.

  His father had thought he was crazy when he’d taken this job at the local gourmet restaurant.

  “Son, you have over ten years in the army. You have experience with a construction crew. Don’t you want to do something more substantial?”

  “I love cooking.”

  “Hmph.” His dad clearly didn’t see a job as a chef as man’s work. As a retired army sergeant himself, Louis Gauge, if he were being honest, held it against Jackson that he hadn’t finished out his military career.

  Nonetheless, Jackson had wanted to get away from his past. When he came home to Hollidaysburg, he wanted to get away from any ties to his previous life. Cooking seemed about as far away from the front lines as he could get.

  He’d always loved the idea of taking simple ingredients and making something phenomenal out of them. If his dad hadn’t pushed him into the military, he’d have probably gone to culinary school right out of high school. Those days were long gone, however. He was just glad the owners of La Familia De Rinoldo had given him a chance. He liked to work with his hands. He liked the chaos of the kitchen. He liked taking something ordinary and making an experience for the customers with it.

  Life in the army had taught him to handle stress, to be organized, to be efficient. These skills translated well in the kitchen, which he was thankful for. However, other than that, his time in the army had offered him little satisfaction.

  How could it when it had destroyed everything?

  He slid the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. The hours flew by with ease, and soon it was time to clock out. He should have been grateful for another day done. Instead, he was saddened. When your life at home consisted of takeout and television, there was little benefit to being done with work.

  Figuring another night alone in his dingy, neutral apartment wouldn’t do his psyche much good, he decided to visit his parents. His dad might not approve of his career choices, but he was still supportive of him. It would be good to see some friendly faces, to talk, maybe even to play a little poker with the old man. He would probably lose some money. After all, his dad wasn’t called Lucky Lou for nothing.

  Pulling into the driveway of his childhood home, Jackson took a second to glance around. Memories of being a boy flooded in. He saw himself as a six-year-old swinging in the tire swing, which was still in the front yard for his nephew, Jace. He could hear his mom singing him to sleep every night, could
smell the aroma of the chocolate chip cookies she made every Sunday. He glanced to the back shed where he’d experienced his first kiss, saw the tree where he’d endured his first breakup. The home was filled with memories, memories of a time gone by. Memories of a time when he still believed life was fair, was something to be excited about. Certainly, there were bad memories too, especially after Wade. Looking at the house now, he didn’t think of those. He thought of the warm memories, the memories that made him crave his youth, crave a simpler time.

  Jackson turned off the engine, strolled to the front door, and glided his key in the lock.

  “Mom, you home?” he yelled up the steps as he took off his shoes.

  “Uncle Jackson!” a voice bellowed from upstairs. He heard his nephew jumping up and down. He smiled involuntarily, taking the steps two at a time.

  “Jace, my man. What’s happening?” he asked, extending his palm to give the boy five. Jace smiled up at him, giving Jackson a grin that stopped his heart.

  Jace was Logan’s age. Seeing his nephew made him happy, but it also caused his heart to jolt, especially in these past few months. It killed him to think of all the smiles he was missing from Logan, to think about Logan’s toothy grin looking up at another man.

  Jace clung to Jackson’s knee, and he ruffled his hair. Jackson’s mom turned from the meatballs cooking on the stove, her Thursday night specialty. “Hey, honey. Are you hungry?”

  “No, I couldn’t look at food. Just came from work.”

  “You’re getting too skinny. Sit down, eat.”

  “Mom, I’m stuffed.”

  “You look gaunt. You’re not taking care of yourself. I can tell.”

  “Mom. I’m fine.”

  His mom always fussed over him, but now she was even more obsessive than usual. She was worried about him slipping into another depression like he had when he’d come home from the army. It was bad, he would admit. He couldn’t blame her for worrying.

  “Where’s Gretta?” he asked, changing the subject as Jace ran to get his Legos to play with. Jackson leaned on the counter, his mother returning to the stove.

  “Working late tonight. There’s a huge bridal party coming in after store hours. Some highfalutin customers. I’m watching Logan because Jonathan is also working late. An important trial’s happening.”

  Jackson grabbed a few Hershey Kisses from the candy bowl, shoveling them into his mouth. His mother turned around at the rustling of the paper. “I thought you couldn’t think about food?”

  “It’s just candy.”

  “Well, if you don’t eat with us, I’m going to think you have something against my meatballs. Since you’re a gourmet chef and all.”

  “You know I love your cooking, Mom.” He walked over to give the sometimes-sassy woman a peck on the cheek.

  “Well, I don’t know. You haven’t been around much. I’ve missed you. Are you okay?”

  She looked at him seriously. He looked away. She could always tell when he was lying.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Honey, how could you be? It’s been a terrible time. What with Logan gone, and now Tim. It’s been awful.”

  “I know.” God, did he know. He didn’t need a reminder of how tough things had been. He cast his gaze to the floor, trying to stop his mind from heading down the dark path it had traveled so many times lately. Mercifully, his mom’s words snapped him out of it.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad news.” Jace mercifully returned to the room, forcing Jackson’s mom to change the conversation. He quietly went to the corner of the kitchen, dumping his Legos all over the floor. Mrs. Gauge simply sighed, shaking her head at the mess. As one of her beloved grandchildren, though, Jace could easily get away with just about anything. The obsessively organized, clean-freak woman didn’t say a word to him as he played.

  “How’s Sophia holding up?” she asked, turning back to their conversation.

  Jackson shrugged. “Haven’t seen her since the funeral.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just thought it would be weird. What am I supposed to do? Stop by, chat her up? I barely know her.”

  “You were so close to Tim though.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “I just think she would appreciate it if you stopped by. Plus, it would be good for you. It would be good for you to socialize.”

  “With Tim’s wife? You think that’s a good idea?”

  “I didn’t say take her to bed, Jackson. Jesus.”

  Jackson covered his eyes with his hands. “I would hope not. My God. Do you always just say what you’re thinking?”

  “Pretty much. Which is why I’m also going to say it’s time for a haircut. And a shave. You look like you’re homeless.”

  “It’s only been two days. Stubble is sexy.”

  “Not in my book,” she said, turning to get the meatballs off the stove. “Go get your father. He’s in the garage. Tell him dinner’s ready.”

  “Will do.”

  Jackson traipsed down the stairs to the garage, beckoned his father to come inside, and returned to the kitchen. He smiled to see a plate at his seat at the table.

  “Mom, I said I’m not hungry.”

  She ignored him, ordering Jace to his spot as she told Jackson to have a seat.

  “Louis, please say grace,” she ordered, and her husband complied.

  _______________

  “Hey, man, come on in,” Jackson said as he opened the door the following night. Evan was a few minutes early, as always. The punctuality engrained in their minds during their time in the army had never left Evan’s personality, even though he too had ended up abandoning the career path in favor of civilian life.

  They hugged the typical masculine, one-hand slapping hug, trying not to dismiss too much manliness or to let too much emotion creep in.

  When Evan had called on Monday to say he’d be in town this weekend, Jackson had smiled.

  “Of course I’ll be home. Stop by, buddy. Can’t wait to see you.”

  Each life stage was punctuated by different friendships, different connections. For Jackson, his twenties were marked by his friendship with Evan. Together, they’d been through boot camp, served two tours in Iraq, and survived a few close calls. Civilian life had taken them in different directions, but Jackson couldn’t wait to see him again.

  “How’s it going, buddy?” Evan asked. Jackson gauged his appearance. It was strange seeing the spikey, gelled hair where the standard military haircut had once been.

  “It’s going. Working. That’s about it. How about you?”

  “It’s awesome. Anna and I are getting married.”

  “Congrats. That’s great.” Jackson smiled as his friend beamed, obviously thrilled. A part of the words stung, though. Jackson didn’t want to admit it, wouldn’t let the cold emotion creep into his face. He sat stoically on the couch as his buddy animatedly discussed the details of his life—the engagement, the decision to elope next month, the new house.

  Jackson was happy for him. He really was. He didn’t begrudge his friend the happiness he deserved. But as Evan chattered on, Jackson’s mind drifted away. He was taken back, back to a time when his life was in order, a time when he too thought marriage could fulfill him.

  _______________

  Beads of water still dripping from his closely shorn hair after his shower, he sauntered to the kitchen. He was shirtless, just as she’d always preferred him, his six-pack rippling. His army workouts had kept him in top condition, even in these past few months as he prepared for his return to civilian life.

  It felt so undeniably good to be home. When he was away, he’d missed home like crazy. The past year had been the worst, though, knowing Chloe was home with their young son, alone, while he was off fearing death every moment. He hadn’t wanted to miss a second, had been sick thinking about all the milestones breezing by. He’d hated leaving her alone with Logan, hated being away from his wife. His heart ached with every letter, every phone call
.

  But that was over now. He’d walked away from the family tradition, walked away from the army life. He’d given up his combat boots and M-16 to return home to a traditional life. He was nervous about finding work, about fitting back in to the civilian lifestyle. Standing at the edge of the kitchen, taking in her brunette curls softly falling down the curve of her perfect back, watching her as she washed the dishes from dinner, he couldn’t help but smile. He would give up anything to be here with her, his gorgeous wife.

  She’d come into his life when he wasn’t even thinking about love, had walked into the bar at the perfect moment. He’d been home on leave, had looked up from the bottle of beer he was having with Evan to see her coming in with a few friends. From the second he’d seen her bronzed skin, her perfect, chocolate locks, he been mesmerized by her.

  Now, the woman who had stolen his gaze at the bar was his wife. Mrs. Gauge.

  He ambled behind her now, wrapping his hands around her hips as she scrubbed a dish. He reached up to softly brush her hair to the side, his lips finding her neck. He waited for her customary murmur, the parting of her lips, the stretching of her neck to give him better access.

  Instead, she’d shrugged him away. “I have to finish these before Logan wakes up,” she said. He reached for the dish in her hand, ignoring the suds that were everywhere. He placed the dish in the water, reached for the nearby dishtowel, and dried his hands. He spun her around in his arms. Pressing against her, he leaned in to resume kissing her neck.

  “He’s sleeping. He’s out like a light. I just checked. Forget about the dishes. I’ve missed you.”

  She stiffened, and his gut lurched. She’d been distant with him since he returned a week ago. He thought it’d just been the nerves of him returning, the stress of them adjusting to real married life. Maybe it was just awkward for her now that he was home. Maybe it was the stress of an almost toddler, the exhaustion of parenting alone. He couldn’t blame her for feeling cold.

  She sighed audibly and pushed him away. “Jackson, I didn’t want to do this. Not now. But I’m going to be honest with you.”