Where One Goes

by B. N. Toler

  Her mouth curves slightly. “And our first kiss,” she adds.

  “And the first time we made love.”

  “It would’ve been right here.”

  “And I would carve I & C in a heart on that big tree back there.” Her smile falters as the what could have been thought hits her. “Live those thoughts with me now.” Her brows furrow and she’s about to open her eyes, but I tell her not to. “From the beginning, imagine it with me. It’s as close as we’ll ever get to the real thing, but I swear I’ll take it all with me. It’ll be real to me.”

  Tears break free from her closed eyes and she nods twice to let me know she’s ready to begin. “You start.”

  I stand and move beside her. She’s beautiful. Her dark hair is fanned out around her head, the tips reaching over the blanket and resting on the brittle, fallen leaves surrounding her perfect form. “You’d be at work and I’d show up with flowers,” I begin as I lie down beside her, joining my hand with hers. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to touching her. But as I continue speaking, something miraculous happens. I see myself through her eyes. And I feel as though our souls are connected. Staring across at her, I smile, my heart full with tranquility. A part of me will always be present, through her.

  I have no idea how he’s doing it, but somehow as I imagine what he says, the visual feels so real and has so much more depth to it than I could create on my own. His soft voice smoothly guides me through every event. We’re in the restaurant and he approaches me with lilies; my favorite. His smile is polite. Warm and genuine.

  The way he asks me out plays out exactly the way we discussed. “Date by ambush,” I chuckle as we imagine having dinner and laughing in a back corner booth at Ike and George’s. “You could have at least let me go back to the room to change.”

  “Nah,” he disagrees. “You look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”

  I smile sadly. As lovely as this is—imagining this with him—it hurts.

  “Don’t,” he warns softly. “I need you right here with me, baby girl. We don’t have long. There’s plenty of time to be sad later.”

  Before I can argue, he continues narrating. We’re standing before each other in front of my motel room. The night is chilly and I’m wearing his jacket. I tug it around me and pull the shoulder to my face. It smells exactly how I imagine he’d smell. “Your scent is amazing,” I say.

  “It’s the cologne I used to wear,” he tells me. And I bask in the delicious fragrance of his manly, warm scent.

  My gaze meets his, his soft brown eyes looking at me like I’m a jewel. And in that moment, I don’t feel strange at all. I feel treasured. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. Then he gently places his hands on my face, his long fingers splayed across each of my cheeks, before our lips meet in a tender kiss. The night breeze causes goose bumps on my arms and back, and I cherish his warm mouth. He has given me a rare gift, something I never thought I’d have. The kiss is soft and sweet and it goes on and on until our surroundings seem to swirl and we’re sitting hand in hand in the dining room of his parents’ house. We’re seated side by side as we laugh with his family. Cameron is telling a joke that has us all in stitches.

  “Of course, you’d meet my parents . . . ,” he tells me and smiles.

  “Of course,” I agree.

  As we sit completely still and he narrates, images flash and the sounds of his family fade away. The first image is of us singing to the radio as he drives us around, and we’re laughing at how awful we sound. The next image follows immediately after the first and it’s of us hiking up the mountain through the park while I whine about how far we’ve gone. I can’t seem to keep up with the athletic abilities of a solider. The next picture shows me on Ike’s back as he carries me back down the mountain because I’m a klutz and sprained my ankle.

  “You carried me the entire way back down, huh?” I ask quietly.

  “Yep. Happily.” Warmth blankets me.

  Throughout every image what I notice most are the smiles on our faces. And that causes my chest to ache.

  As he speaks, more images appear of us cooking spaghetti together, me straddling him on the couch as we make out while he cops a feel. Heat radiates through my body as I watch how his hands fist my hair and how our mouths press to the others, achingly hard, as if we just can’t get close enough. The passion in that moment, hits me hard.

  “I love your breasts,” Ike says, breathless.

  “Perv,” I jest and he grins.

  “By now I have a serious case of blue balls, but you’re making me wait.”

  In the image, he’s just taken off my shirt. Even though I’m wearing a bra, he stares at me, his brown eyes fixed on me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I watch myself stare back, and the want and need in that moment is palpable; it’s a living and breathing thing. I need to see this moment with Ike. “Maybe I’m ready by now.”

  In this beautiful daydream, our surroundings swirl and we’re by the river under the large tree staring at one another. Ike’s soft gaze meets mine and while I see want and need, I see pain. This will be every bit brutal as it will beautiful. We’re giving ourselves to one another the only way we can, but afterwards, we must face the inevitable. We must let each other go.

  “Take your shirt off,” I order him. He’s not wearing his normal Army uniform. He’s in a dark button up shirt and jeans. Our gazes remain locked as his fingers slowly undo each button while I slip off my jacket and kick my shoes off. When his shirt falls from his body, my mouth goes dry. He’s perfect. His large broad shoulders and arms are smooth, his dog tags resting against his firm chest. His abs are ripped and peppered with the faintest dusting of hair that trails down into the waist his pants.

  “Now you,” he urges.

  She’s nervous. And it’s beautiful. Her arms cross as she reaches down for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, her long hair moving up with her shirt, but tumbling back down her shoulders and back as she tosses it aside. Even though I’m only imagining this, the image is so clear and feels so real. Stepping toward me, her hands move to my belt and begin undoing it, before she works on the button of my pants. Before she pulls them down, my hands graze her shoulders as I reach around and unhook her bra. It falls to the ground and I step back and admire her, memorizing every detail of her body that I can. Quickly I pick her up and lay her on the blanket. The day is warm, but there’s a slight chill in the air causing her skin to pebble with goose bumps. I pull her jeans and panties off and quickly remove my own. Before kneeling down and pressing my body to hers, I stare at her, naked and waiting for me. Fuck, she’s exquisite. My insides ache with want for her, but there’s a pain there, too. This is it. This is all there is for us. But it’s more than I thought I’d get so I’ll seize it. Once I feel her under me, her breasts against my chest, I tug the side of the blanket over us, keeping as much warmth around us and between us as I can.

  “Are you ready?”

  She licks her lips and nods yes. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”

  Time stands still as we become one. Sadness lingers in her eyes as our gazes remain locked. She knows I’ll be gone soon. I’ve never experienced anything so agonizingly beautiful. I pray I’ll get to remember this on the other side, that whatever higher being there is will allow me to hold tightly to this memory. This is only a dream; the two of us imagining what could have been in another time or another life. Her breath on my neck, her hands and fingers pushing into the flesh of my back; all tragically beautiful memories I need because I’m not sure I can endure eternity without them. Grabbing my face, she slams her mouth to mine, kissing me fiercely. I push back, cursing the world that I can’t get closer. My thrusts quicken as she claws at me, catching my lips between her teeth, driving me fucking crazy. I pull my lips from hers as she cries out, her body tensing.

  “I love you, Ike,” she cries as a tear drifts down her cheek. With the tip of my tongue, I collect it before joining m
y mouth to hers again. It’s only moments later when she cries out in pleasure, and I finish seconds after, resting my forehead to hers as we both fight to catch our breath. I kiss her neck, her jawline, and her lips once more as she whimpers. Sitting up, I pull her to my side and tug the blanket over us. Her head rests on my shoulder as we watch the water glisten. I’d give anything to do this for real, not just imagine it.

  “How do I let you go, Ike?” she whispers.

  I have no answer for that. So I retreat back into our dream where I squeeze her tighter. The background changes and we’re at the bank of the river, and together we take turns narrating the life we’ll never have together. We watch a million memories play out before us, just over the water’s surface. Some of my favorites are our wedding day, the way she smiles at me when she reaches the altar. Another is her asleep on the sofa, her belly swollen and round with our child. And of course, the day our daughter is born, cradled in Charlotte’s arms as Charlotte smiles lovingly at me.

  The images play on in beautiful and chaotic order. They’re not all perfect, in some we fight, but those are followed by the ones where we make up.

  “I guess you never figured out I’m always right,” she jests as we watch an image of her throwing a pillow at me as she shouts.

  “No,” I say as the image shows me grabbing her and kissing her fiercely causing all her anger to melt away. “I just like to stir you up so we can have epic makeup sex.” She chuckles softly and nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck. “What are we missing?” I ask her.

  This,” she says just before she describes the image of an old man and woman sitting side by side in rocking chairs. It’s us after a lifetime together. She slips her wrinkled hand in mine as we stare out into the mountains from our front porch, watching the splendor of fall.

  In this fantasy, I kiss her temple, closing my eyes and praying she will have this one day. And I pray it’s with George. She loves him just as she loves me; fiercely. She’s crying quietly, tears softly seeping down her beautiful face. Leaning toward her, I say, “When you miss me, come here and talk to me. This will always be our place.”

  “Will you be here?” she weeps.

  “A part of me will always live here . . .” Looking back at the tree behind us, I sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t carve that I & C in the tree for you.”

  “I’m sorry for a lot of things, Ike,” she whimpers as she attempts to stifle a soft cry. The moment feels tragically painful, reaching in the deepest part of my soul. And although I hate to leave her, I need a few minutes to sort myself out before I unravel.

  “Charlotte,” I say, and squeeze her hand tightly. “I need a bit of time alone. I’m sorry, I just . . . Will you be okay here?”

  “Sure,” she says, quietly. “I’ll go back to the motel. You will come back and see me, won’t you?” Her gray eyes linger on mine, hope and sadness etched across her face.

  Brushing my knuckles against her cheek, I reply, “I promise, baby girl.” Then I morph away.

  When I open my eyes, Ike is gone, so I remain still, lying on the blanket and staring at the sky. Everything we just imagined together felt so real; so content. But real or not, he’s leaving soon. There are no words to describe the pain I feel inside right now. The ache is endless, reaching from my toes to the tips of my hair. It is a relentless, gaping hole of torture. When he goes, he will take a part of me with him; a part that can never be replaced because it is his—he owns it. He was the first person in a long time that offered me comfort and friendship. And I realize the agonizing pain of letting him go is exactly how George has felt for a long time.

  The other half of my heart belongs to George. And that pain is altogether different. Against my initial better judgment, I fell for him. And boy, did I fall hard. George could own his part of me, take it and love it, treasure it even, but he’s choosing not to. And in that, I feel hopeless and lost. How do I move on without a complete heart? How do I navigate through life with nothing but an empty chest of what-ifs? It bothers me to go back into that dark place, but the pain is becoming too much to bear. I had a plan. To end it, and as sad as it may sound, a part of me believes that would’ve been better than this. Losing the McDermott brothers will be my undoing. Ike saved me, but what for? To go back to the life I’ve lived for the last five years, but this time carrying the pain of having loved and lost? I have no idea if George will ever speak to me again, and I don’t want to say good-bye to my best friend. I did it once with Axel, and I almost didn’t survive. How can I possibly do it again? Am I really destined to be all alone?

  I shake my head at my darker thoughts. I could never regret it; not one moment of it. Meeting and loving each of them has been my life’s greatest accomplishment. I didn’t know what life was until death came to my door. And I had no clue what love was until Ike forced me to live. He gave me a second chance at life when he brought me to this town and showed me the beauty of it. ‘Where one goes to rejuvenate,’ he had joked. I lived in a consuming darkness—barely getting by—and he brought me to the light. And although the pain is unyielding, I won’t forget my brief time in the warmth, and I refuse to let it go.

  I let out a snort when the magnitude of how fucked up our situation is hits me. I just imagined a lifetime of love with Ike. We laughed and loved and fought, and it was beautiful. Our situation is so complex. I love them both, equally and for very different reasons. And while a tiny little voice inside of me whispers that it was wrong to share that with Ike—even though it was a dream—when my hopes are for George to come to his senses and make me his, I’ll never regret it. If George had been the soul that found me on the bridge that night instead if Ike, I would have imagined that beautiful life with him. But he didn’t. It was Ike that found me. And it is Ike who loves me enough to understand that he shares my heart with his brother.

  Hopping up, I shake the blanket off and I make my way back to Sniper’s truck. Once inside, I pop open the large toolbox in the backseat and remove a large hunting knife.

  Walking back down toward the shore and gripping the knife tightly, I decide there’s only one thing left to do where Ike is concerned; show him what he means to me.

  By the time Ike appears back at the motel, I’ve already showered and put on my pajamas. I’m lying in bed when suddenly he’s there beside me. He rolls on his side so his eyes are level with mine. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers.

  “Hi,” I reply and muster up the best smile I can. “Did you go see George?”

  “This morning before you woke up.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s going to be okay. He said good-bye to me.”

  My eyes widen. “So he believes you were there?”

  “I think so,” he answers and nods. “I don’t feel that weight anymore.”

  I want to cry—because I’m not at all ready for him to go—but I feel like that’s all I’ve done for days and days. “When, Ike? When will you go?”

  Ike closes his eyes and swallows hard. He doesn’t have to say it; I know it will be soon. “We should say our good-byes now, Charlotte.”

  The finality of it all hits me. This is it. How am I supposed to sum up how much he means to me? There aren’t enough words meaningful or poetic enough to show how I feel or that would do him justice. Lamely, I say, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  Ike gives me his signature sly grin. “What will you miss most? My amazing sense of humor, or this hot body?” He motions a hand down from his head to his toes.

  I can’t help but chuckle through the tears I refused to shed only moments before. “Your ass. That’s my final answer. Mostly that hot ass of yours,” I laugh.

  Ike laughs out loud, his eyes twinkling. “I knew you only liked me for my epic ass. You’re so cliché,” he jests.

  We both grow quiet and I take another stab at expressing my feelings for him. “I’ll miss your laugh, your killer smile, and Ike, you do have a killer smile. Sometimes it hurts, it’s so beautiful. I’ll miss how you always f
ind a way to make me laugh. I’ll miss the sound of your dog tags jingling under your shirt as you move around.” His soft brown eyes stare into mine as I speak, soaking up every word.

  “I’ll miss your potty mouth,” he tells me, and we both grin. “I’ll miss how calm and peaceful you look while you’re sleeping. You have no idea how badly I’ve wished I could touch you when you’re sleeping, your skin so soft and smooth. And I’ll miss your courage and kindness.”

  “Thank you, Ike,” I say, as my lip trembles. “I’ve never thanked you for saving me.”

  “Oh, baby girl, you saved me,” he says, softly, as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “I’m dead and I still got to fall in love with my best friend. I’m a lucky bastard.”

  “D-do you think we’ll see each other again? On the other side, I mean?”

  He takes a deep breath. “I do. But not for a long time,” he insists. “You’re going to grow old, Charlotte. You’re going to live a long and beautiful life. The happy life you deserve.”

  “But when it’s time, if you can, will you try to find me? Will it be you who welcomes me to the other side? I want to know that you’re okay.”

  “Come hell or high water,” he promises. “And I mean it. If I can be the one to bring you over to . . . wherever it is, I will. But I need something from you.”

  “Anything,” I weep softly.

  “Wait for George. He has a plan. Give him some time, he’ll come around.”

  I wipe my face on the pillow my head is resting on and nod. “I want to, but what if he doesn’t come around?”