The Proposal

by R. R. Banks

  I felt like my life was unfolding in front of me. I was thrilled for Michael and the promising future that he had thanks to the program ahead of him. The promising future that we now shared. I knew that his childhood had not been easy for him. He had spent the first few tender years of his life listening to the bitter arguments between his parents. He had told me that it was actually a relief when they finally decided to divorce. Over the years he had many friends come to him broken-hearted because their parents were going through a difficult time or had decided to separate, and he had never been able to really understand why they were so upset about it. He believed that things would be better now that he didn't have to listen to the fighting or try to shield his little sister from it.

  Things had gotten better for him, at least during the times that he was able to spend with his father. Andrew had moved on and healed. Within a year of his divorce from Natalie, he had remarried a beautiful, delightful woman I had become very close to in the two years that I had been with Michael. They had two little boys, and when Michael was there in that home with them he felt safe and loved. He felt like he had a family. It wasn't like that when he was at home with his mother. Natalie had begun to unravel in the months before the divorce and it had only gotten worse after. It seemed that the happier and more functional that Andrew was, the worse things became for her. So, she spiraled into darkness and took her children with her. Michael did everything that he could to protect his sister, which meant that he often got the worst of Natalie's rage. I often wondered why he didn't tell his father what he was going through. Maybe Andrew could have saved him.

  Now Michael wanted to save himself.

  Going into this program was about escaping his past as much as it was about building his future. I knew how excited he was to leave home and embark on this new adventure. He believed in himself more than I had ever seen him, and his aspirations were making him more and more excited and hopeful for the years that lay ahead. Now those years definitely included me. I had never admitted it to him because I didn't want to discourage him or make him feel guilty for wanting to move ahead, but I had always worried that his moving forward would eventually result in our relationship dissolving away. I was staying closer to home to go to college, but he was a year ahead of me which meant that I still had to finish out my senior year before I could even begin my college career. I worried that it wouldn't just be the space between us but also the differences in our experiences and what we were going through that would make it impossible for us to maintain over the years what we had been together. I wasn't afraid of that anymore. I knew now that we were firmly and irrevocably embedded in each other's hearts and that he felt the same deep commitment that I did. He didn't want to leave everything behind. He wanted to bring me with him.

  My parents weren't thrilled when they found out about the engagement, but they were happy for me even if they worried that I was far too young to be making that type of decision. I reassured them that I didn't want them to give me permission to marry before I was eighteen, that we would be waiting at least until after I graduated, and that seemed to ease their worries. They had gotten married when they were only nineteen and twenty-two, so I knew that they understood the intensity of our bond and that they knew young marriage could not only work but be amazing. They knew that this was going to change the plans that I had for my future. I couldn't very well stay close to home and go to the university that I had intended to if my husband was hours away, which meant that I needed to start considering schools closer to Michael. I could still study teaching, I reassured them. I could still make sure that I followed the dreams that I had for my future. I would just do them with Michael by my side.

  We had very little time to celebrate our engagement before he had to leave. But I thought about Michael every day. He was the first thing that came to mind when I woke up in the morning then the last thing that I thought of each night when I looked through the window and said goodnight to the moon, remembering one of our first dates when he told me that any time that I missed him I could simply look at the moon and know that no matter where he was, it was the same moon, and it would carry my love to him. Throughout each day I filled notebooks with my thoughts in the form of letters to him. I planned our wedding and I thought about our future. Some of those letters I tore out and mailed to him, others I kept for myself. I mused that one day I would share them with our children and our grandchildren while I told them our love story.

  Most of the communication that I had with Michael while he was in his program was through the periodic emails he was able to send me. I knew from before he left that he wasn't going to have consistent access to a computer and that any communication that I received from him would be precious. That's how I looked at every message, no matter how short. Within just a few weeks of him leaving, however, the messages begin to change. I started to notice strange things about them. His sentences started to run together, sometimes sounding as though he had forgotten words or had skipped ahead to something else that he wanted to tell me without finishing his first thought. I did my best to read through each one as carefully as I possibly could, so that I could understand what it was that he wanted to say to me, but it became harder and harder for me to ignore the worried feeling in my stomach, and the voice in the back of my mind that told me something was wrong.

  I talked to Andrew about the messages and about the worries that I had. Together we planned to go visit Michael. It would be a wonderful surprise, I told myself. He would be thrilled to see me, and I could ease all of my fears and worries by saying that he was just tired from how hard he was working. Finally, the day came when we arrived at the training facility. Several states away from the primary campus, this facility looked nothing like a college. It looked cold and daunting, and I felt a shiver roll through me as I thought that this was where Michael had been spending all his time for months. It was a family visitation weekend, but Michael hadn't expected that we would be able to come. He knew that I was busy at school and that it would be hard for his father to get time off work. I knew that it hurt him when I told him that I wouldn't be able to come, but that only made me more excited to see him now. I knew he would be so happy and so proud to show us everything that he had accomplished.

  I kept telling myself that as Andrew and I roamed the grounds of the facility. All around us families were reuniting. I could see their excitement. I could feel their energy. But we couldn't find Michael. We searched for him everywhere that we could think to look. We attended each of the welcoming activities and ceremonies, scouring the crowds and hoping that we would catch sight of him. Every time that a group passed by me and I didn't see his face, a little bit more of that hope disappeared. I forced the smile to stay on my face, telling myself that as long as I was smiling, as long as I looked positive, everything was going to be alright. I didn't have to admit that I knew that something was terribly wrong.

  "Where is he?" Andrew asked. "Where did he go?"

  I shook my head.

  "I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "He has to be here somewhere. He didn't mention to me that he was going to be anywhere else this weekend."

  "He didn't mention it to me, either."

  I nodded, letting out a breath.

  "Well, that means that he has to be around here somewhere. We probably just missed him. Remember, he doesn't think that we're here. The other students know that their families are here, so they probably made sure that they were visible. I'm sure that Michael was just in the background somewhere."

  Andrew offered me a meager smile.

  "You're right. Let's go to his dorm and wait for him."

  We walked across the grounds, both of us trying to ignore the happy voices and laughter around us. There was a heaviness over both of us, though neither of us would say anything to the other. When we arrived at the dorm, we approached the desk. A guard looked up at us expectantly.

  "Hi," Andrew said. "We're here to visit Michael Long. Could you let us into his room?"
r />   "No," the guard said.

  "Oh, well, then could we wait for him here?"

  "No, I mean, he's not here. He's been moved out of the dorm."

  I saw the color drain out of Andrew's face. His hands touched the edge of the desk and I could see them trembling. I remembered my own shaking that way not long before when Michael knelt in front of me and slipped the diamond onto my finger. I touched the diamond now, trying to feel Michael in it, trying to reassure myself.

  "What do you mean he's been moved out of the dorm?" Andrew asked. "He's my son. Why wasn't I informed?"

  The guard seemed completely unaffected by Andrew's insistence and I got the impression that this was not the first time that he had dealt with an angry or even panic-stricken parent. This made my stomach sink even further and I took an almost involuntary step closer to Andrew.

  "Your son is eighteen, sir. He is an adult. There was no need to inform you of anything."

  My eyes closed, and I squeezed my lips together. My mind filled with images of two nights before Michael left for school. A room filled with balloons. Candles creating little points of light in a darkened room. The taste of his kiss blended with the sweetness of the icing. That night we celebrated Michael turning eighteen. It was a milestone that had then seemed like his gateway into adulthood. Now it was the stumbling block that was keeping us from him.

  "I understand that my son is eighteen, but he is still my son. If something has happened, I deserve to know about it."

  Andrew was getting angrier and his voice was rising. I could see his hands gripping the side of the desk so hard that his knuckles were turning white. A door behind the desk opened and a man who looked several years older than the guard, and who was dressed in a suit rather than a uniform stepped out. He looked at Andrew and me with a disarming expression.

  "Good afternoon, sir. Is there something that I could help you with?"

  Andrew turned his attention to the man and let out a breath, trying to get himself back under control.

  "My son is supposed to be living in this dorm, but this man has just informed me that he no longer lives here. He won't tell me where he is or why he was moved out of the dorm."

  "What is your son's name?"

  "Michael Long."

  The man's face darkened slightly. The next few minutes went past me in a blur. I knew that people were talking, but their words sank into me without voices. I didn't hear them, but I felt them as they seeped into my brain and became my reality. I didn't remember walking out of the dorm or going across the grounds again. The next moment that I was aware of I was sitting in a cold, silent room. The dark blue carpet and floral furniture looked like it had been chosen to bring a friendly, even home-like feeling into the space, but somehow it only worked to make it more imposing and uncomfortable. I was waiting for a doctor to come and talk to us, to explain to us why Michael was in the hospital.

  A few seconds later the doctor appeared at the door and stepped just inside. He had only started speaking when something about what he was saying struck me.

  "Michael," I said.

  "What?" the doctor asked.

  "Michael. His name is Michael. You called him Jeff."

  The doctor looked at me strangely and glanced down at the chart in his hands.

  "It says here, Jeffrey Long."

  I nodded.

  "Jeffrey Michael Long. He has always gone by Michael."

  "Jeffrey was my father's name," Andrew said. "I named him after him, but I never intended him to be called that. He's only ever been called Michael."

  "I'm sorry," the doctor said. "I didn't know."

  "You didn't know?" I asked. "How can you be treating him and not know what people call him?"

  The doctor looked at me with a still-expressionless face.

  "When Jeff came in--"

  "Michael."

  He gave a single nod.

  "I'm sorry. Yes. Michael. When Michael came in, he wasn't in any condition to speak to us. He couldn't communicate. We only had his identification card to go by, and that has his legal name on it."

  "He hasn't corrected you?"

  "No. He is still having only periods of lucidity."

  I knew what that meant. I knew that the diagnosis they had said when we came in meant that the future he had planned was now tattered.

  Just then a woman in scrubs appeared at the door, followed closely by Michael. He was wearing a sweatsuit and though I could still see him, the person he really was, he no longer looked like him. He gazed at his father and then at me, then back at his father. For a few seconds, he didn't seem to know why he was there.

  "Your sister is here," the nurse said leadingly, gesturing at me.

  "I'm not his sister," I said through gritted teeth. I stood, taking a step toward him. "I'm his fiancée."

  The nurse looked embarrassed, but Michael's eyes brightened slightly.

  "Gwendolyn," he said, his voice powdery as though he hadn't used it recently.

  I closed the space between us and he took me in his arms. I felt myself melting into him, closing my eyes and pretending that nothing had changed, that all of this wasn't really happening. I stepped out of the embrace and started to lean to kiss him, but Michael turned to look at the nurse.

  "I told you that she was here. You said she wasn't."

  "What?" I said. "What do you mean?"

  "I heard you last night. You were singing in the hallway outside my room, but when I came out to see you, you weren't there. I tried to find you, but they said that you weren't even here."

  I shook my head.

  "I wasn't here last night," I told him. "I just got here this morning."

  Michael glared at me angrily.

  "No," he said. "I heard you. Why are you lying?"

  I felt like the breath had been taken out of me. I didn't recognize him anymore. I looked at the nurse and then the doctor, my mouth open, words not coming out.

  "I think that it's just about dinner time," the nurse said as if trying to break the tension. "Come on." She took Michael by the shoulders and started leading him out of the room. "Let's go get something to eat."

  The doctor told us that we could return the next day and that he would try to tell us more about what was happening. Andrew agreed, and we left the hospital, nothing left to do but to go to the hotel we had reserved and wait for the next day. We were walking across the parking lot when we heard a voice coming from behind us.

  "Mr. Long?"

  Andrew and I turned around and saw a young woman rushing toward us with a bag in her hand. She held it out to him.

  "These are Jeff's belongings. The doctor said to give them to you."

  "Michael," I growled at her, the tears finally spilling over the bottom lids of my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. My voice rose to a scream. "His name is Michael!"

  I didn't realize that I was lunging toward the woman until I felt Andrew's arm wrap around my waist and start dragging me back.

  Present day…

  I brushed the tears away from my cheeks and shook my head. I wanted to put the thoughts back in the section of my mind where I had delegated them. I knew that they would never go away. Those memories and the emotions that they brought up would never just disappear. Now though, it was a new rush of emotion that cut through me. I could still hear myself screaming at the nurse, and now when that went through my mind, I saw Garrett in front of me. I heard his voice sliding through his gritted teeth as he explained Jason's name. The assumption that I had made and the pain that it had caused felt like a rock landing in my belly.

  I was still seething about my confrontation with Garrett, but now I also felt bad. My emotions felt torn and raw inside of me. I hadn't meant to hurt Garrett, but I also felt hurt by him. He obviously wasn't who I thought he was and now any chances that I might have had at pursuing a relationship with him were gone. With that, though, came even greater determination to reach out to Jason. Garrett had told me to back off, to not do my job, but I wasn't going to liste
n to him. I felt like I was all that Jason had. Garrett didn't know what he was doing, what type of damage he could be causing for Jason's future. If I didn't intervene, he was going to turn out exactly like his father, and while he was being touted as such an amazing fire chief, I could see now that he wasn't the person who everyone thought he was.

  I looked back at The Reverend.

  "You were right," I said. "I never should have even thought about a relationship."

  Chapter Eleven

  Garrett

  I glared at the black leather bag sagging on the floor in front of the laundry room. I felt like we were in a stand-off. If I stood here in the hallway glaring at it long enough, maybe it would vaporize. Or at the very least, unzip itself and tip into the washing machine. Unfortunately, there was no such luck and I eventually walked up to it and grabbed it.

  This is ridiculous. Jason needs to start doing his own laundry.

  I brought the bag into the laundry room and opened it on the folding table, immediately regretting my actions. The table was now coated with fine red dirt and I got a face full of the smell of a teenage boy's baseball uniform after a long practice. I closed the bag as fast as I could and stomped out into the hallway and to the bottom of the stairs.

  "Jason, get down here."

  A few seconds later he came lumbering down the stairs, looking startled.

  "What did I do?"

  "I have no idea, but it smells like something died in your baseball bag."

  "Oh. Yeah. Coach had us run extra laps today and since he wants me to diversify and try catching, I did it in pads."

  He was grinning widely, and I couldn't help but feel a pulse of pride go through me. It had been several weeks since my showdown with Gwendolyn -- Miss Martin -- and something seemed to have clicked in Jason. He had tried out for the baseball team and made it. He had calmed down and gotten rid of most of his attitude. And while I wasn't expecting to be clearing space on the mantel for any student awards anytime soon, I also hadn't gotten any more calls from the principal or letters home from his teacher. He seemed to have made a meaningful turn and I felt both relieved and hopeful that this was just the beginning of the improvements I had wanted for him. For both of us.