The Space Between Us

by Anie Michaels

  If my father had cancer, he would have told me. I spoke to him every Sunday. Why wouldn’t he tell me that he had cancer? I would have dropped everything and gone to Willow Falls. I would have been there for him, taken care of him. A tear fell from my cheek and landed on my hand on my lap. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I looked into the mirror and saw my face, red and wet with tears.

  “Baby, are you ok?” David was in front of me, kneeling on the ground.

  “Did that man tell you what he told me?” I asked him, trying still to fit all the pieces together.

  “He said that your father passed away today,” he answered gently. “He said he had cancer.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Why wouldn’t he tell me he had cancer?” I kept asking the question, but in the back of my mind I knew why he didn’t tell me. I leaned into David and let him comfort me, let him hold me, let him bring me to bed and wrap his arms around me. The entire time I was wishing it were someone else.

  “What about your fundraiser?” I was all cries and sniffles and tears.

  “Charlie, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he whispered against my hair.

  There was a long silence between us. He stroked my hair and I continued to cry and wail. Eventually I felt like I cried all the tears I had in me. I was wrong, of course, but I was stable for the moment at least.

  “I need to go to Willow Falls.” It was difficult to call it home. For the last thirteen years I hadn’t felt like I had a home, really.

  “We can book flights tomorrow. I have some vacation time saved up.” My insides froze up at his words. I didn’t know before he’d mentioned coming along, but the last place I wanted David was in Willow Falls. In the five years we’d been together, I never found a reason to bring him there and now wasn’t the time to figure out why.

  “You don’t have to take time off from work to come with me. I can go by myself.” He rolled so that he was on top of me, using his hands to brush my hair away from my face.

  “I will go anywhere to be with you right now. You can’t tell me to stay home. Your father died. I love you. Of course I’m going with you.”

  I didn’t anticipate this was going to be the moment where David realized I was a coward and a fraud. I didn’t anticipate my father dying suddenly and me having to explain to my long-term boyfriend why he couldn’t come home with me. And like the coward I was I smiled at him and nodded my head, let him kiss me on the cheek, and allow him to spoon me as we fell asleep. Well, he fell asleep and I did a good job of pretending to be asleep. Then I crept out of his arms and paced the living room, trying to figure out which lie I’d tell him next to make him stay out of my past.

  Chapter Four

  Asher

  I made sure I was the last one to show up and that the service already started. I made sure I wouldn’t run into her. I opened the door slowly and heard the pastor at the front of the church talking about how important it was to live each day like it were a gift. I found a seat in the very back pew for which I was grateful. I sat and tried to keep my eyes on the man speaking at the front of the room, tried to force myself to grieve, to see the casket and recognize that a man I loved and respected was being laid to rest. But nothing was sinking in because I knew she was in the room.

  It has been so long. The last time I saw her I broke her heart. I betrayed her in the worst way. I remembered standing in her room, saying all the wrong things, but not knowing what else to do. I was so afraid, so unbelievably caught off guard, but also so incredibly stupid. I don’t blame her for leaving; I would have left too. She didn’t need to wait around for me to swallow my pride, to tell her that everything I said about our baby was a mistake, that in the end, all I’ll ever think about is how I took the best thing in my world and ruined it.

  I saw her sitting in the front pew right next to Reeve. I could only see her from the shoulders up, but I cherished every inch of her available. She looked thin, her neck slimmer than I remembered it, the pointy corners of her shoulders concerning. Her hair was pulled up into a bun but I could tell it was still long and I felt my breathing speed up as I remembered how I use to thread my fingers through her long tresses. I used her hair for comfort, for boredom playing with it while she did homework, and I used it to hold her where I wanted her. I closed my eyes tight, trying to fight back the images of her naked back, her hair wrapped tightly around my fist. I felt like the worst human possible, fantasizing about her at her father’s funeral.

  Luckily, to the random funeral attendee, it probably looked like I was emotional over the death of the outstanding man we were all here to remember. But the overriding emotion I was feeling was regret, mixed with a good amount of lust. This would probably be the last time I ever saw her and that weighed heavily on me. I wanted to be the one sitting next to her, holding her hand, comforting her. I looked back to where she was sitting and didn’t see a man next to her, just Reeve. How could it be that she was here without someone? I couldn’t imagine she was alone in life. There’s no way she’s out in the world and no one was trying to snatch her up. So why was she here all by herself?

  I was brought back to attention when the pastor stopped talking and a hush fell over the room. I saw Charlie stand and begin walking towards the pulpit. My breath caught in my chest as I saw more of her. She was so small and fragile, so tiny. At least, that’s how I saw her. I wanted to rush to the front of the church and hold her, protect her from everything she must be going through. The black dress she wore was conservative but still hugged her tightly. I remembered the way her waist curved into her hips, how her belly was toned and flat leading to the full roundness of her small breasts. She was far away, but I could see the dark circles under her eyes.

  As she faced the congregation of people, she looked down at the paper she was unfolding in her hands. She took a deep breath in and we all heard it shudder as she exhaled. My chest clenched, wanting to be near her, to help her.

  “When my mother died twenty years ago,” she began, her voice shaking, “my father and I were with her until the end, from her diagnosis, to her doctor appointments, to her treatment. Finally, when there was nothing left to do but keep her comfortable and wait, we waited with her. We sat next to her, spoke to her, reassured her as best we could that we would be ok and that we loved her.” She brought a tissue to her nose, pausing to collect herself. “I’m not sure if my father ever fully recovered from her death, from the absence of the one person he was meant to be with, but I know I didn’t. And in this moment,” she gave a quiet and soft laugh, “I’m a little jealous that he gets to be with the love of his life again, while some of us are still here, alone.”

  “I understand my father’s choice to not tell me he was sick. I don’t agree with it, but I understand. It’s not surprising that even on his deathbed he was thinking of me, trying to protect me, to keep me from getting hurt. He was the best dad in that way. I think back to all the phone conversations we had while he must have been sick. He never let on that anything was wrong, never complained, never confided in me his fears of possibly dying.” She paused again and a small cry left her, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. I nearly shot out of my seat, rushing to her to stand with her, to be with her. “In his effort to protect me,” she continued, still upset and speaking through tears, “he robbed me of my right to say goodbye. I’ve had enough instances of goodbye in my life and I don’t want any more, but I’ll never get over the fact that I never got to tell him to his face, one last time, how much I loved him.”

  I could tell she tried very hard to hold herself together and the tension in the room was thick. Everyone’s heart broke watching this young woman, just barely thirty, saying goodbye to her last parent. I wanted to take away all her pain, but more so, felt guilty that some of her pain, even if it was in the past, was caused by me. I hated myself a little bit more in that moment.

  “I hope he can hear me and that Mom is with him.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I knew tears had started
flowing down her face. “I hope they all know how much I love them and how much I miss them. I will try to make them proud.”

  The rest of the service was predictable, yet sad. I took deep breaths hoping to steady myself as I stood to sneak out of the church before the service concluded. I couldn’t risk Charlie seeing me. I came to the service to say goodbye to Charles, but also to satisfy some sick need to be near her, to see her one last time. But I wouldn’t bring her any more pain today by letting her see me. I left the church and tried hard to reconcile myself to the idea that I would never see her again. The last glimpse I might ever have of her was much like the one I had thirteen years ago.

  Sad.

  Crying.

  Broken.

  There was nothing I could do but go home and try to drown every piece of pain I was feeling, hoping to wake up feeling just as terrible because it was what I deserved.

  Chapter Five

  Charlie

  I shut the door to my motel room and walked towards my car. I couldn’t bring myself to stay at my father’s house. I hadn’t even been inside it since I’d been back in Willow Falls. I didn’t know what to do about it and I figured I would have to go there at some point, but I was going to avoid it as long as possible. I wasn’t ready to see all of my father’s things waiting for him to return. Not ready to try and sift through the life he’d left behind. No. I’d let that wait for a little while.

  I wasn’t in any rush to get back to New York. I wasn’t even really sure there was anything to go back to. Explaining to David that I didn’t want him to come to my father’s funeral hadn’t left our relationship in a very stable place. He told me that if I went without him, if I chose to go through such an emotional and tumultuous time without him, then I didn’t need him the way he needed me. I couldn’t disagree with him. I didn’t need him. I used him for five years – used him to feel a little normal, a little less crazy, and a little less lonely. But I didn’t need him, didn’t love him. So I was back in Willow Falls alone, only this time I was a little more alone than I had been in a while and it sucked.

  I was on my way to pick up Reeve who insisted that she come with me to the reading of my father’s will. There was no way to avoid driving past the elementary school we all attended. I told myself I wasn’t going to look, wasn’t going to force myself to think about the past, but my eyes couldn’t be controlled and wandered over the school grounds as I drove by. I saw the swing set I’d spent countless evenings on with him, spotted the alleyway we would walk through together. Seeing all of these places, imagining ourselves young and carefree, reminiscing about our childhood, wasn’t what I needed this morning.

  When I pulled up in front of Reeve’s house I saw her door open and she stepped out. Her husband was right behind her and she turned to give him a quick kiss on the lips. I had met her husband once when I attended their wedding. It was a destination wedding in the Bahamas which was the only reason I agreed to go. I would not come back to Willow Falls for her wedding, there was too high of a risk coming back here.

  He seemed like a nice man and it was obvious he loved Reeve very much. Their kids were adorable. There were times I felt guilty that her kids didn’t know me and I wasn’t a bigger part of their lives, but being around kids was just too difficult for me. I hated being so broken. I hated that I couldn’t let go of everything that happened, or move on, but I couldn’t find a way to be ok.

  “Hey Charlie,” she said with a smile as she got in the car. I found it comforting that as we drove to the lawyer’s office she still talked non-stop. She was going on and on about some disaster that happened that morning, something involving her youngest child and a toilet. I tried to listen but found myself focusing on the cadence of her words, the rhythm of her voice. Luckily Reeve rambled the entire way to the office never asking me for any interaction. When we arrived she continued her chatting until we were well inside the building standing at the receptionist’s desk.

  “Hi, my name is Charlie McBride and I have an appointment with Mr. Libman.” The woman looked at her computer screen and then back up to me.

  “Of course. Let me walk you back to the conference room. Mr. Libman is out of the building but should be here very soon.” I smiled at her as she stood and led us to a room with a long conference table. I smiled politely at her as I took a seat while Reeve sat down next to me. “Can I get the two of you anything to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?” The receptionist asked. I shook my head.

  “No, thank you. I think we’re fine,” Reeve answered with a smile. She left the room and Reeve and I exchanged glances. “Thanks for moving the meeting up to this morning. I really appreciate it. We’ve had this birthday party planned for months now. Are you sure you don’t want to come? We’d love to have you.”

  This was probably the fifth time Reeve tried to get me to come to her daughter’s birthday party. I shook my head at her again. “I’m just not up for it. You can understand, right? I’m sorry.”

  Reeve placed her hand on my shoulder and I tried not to pull away from her touch. “I totally get it. I just hope we get to see each other a little before you leave town.” I nodded and tried to smile, but didn’t want to give her false hope. The only reason she was here with me was because she pretty much insisted and I didn’t want to argue with her. I wouldn’t be going to her daughter’s birthday party, I wouldn’t be going to their house for dinner, and I wouldn’t be resuming my life like nothing had happened. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I didn’t plan on telling her that.

  A few minutes later a man opened the door and walked in. Reeve and I both stood and he eyed us. I stuck my hand out towards him. “Good morning, I am Charlie McBride.” I tried to sound confident and strong, not like the scared young girl I was beginning to feel like. “This is my friend Reeve. She’s here for emotional support.” He nodded at Reeve and smiled.

  “Hello Ms. McBride, my name is Phillip Libman. I am sorry for your recent loss,” he said as he gently shook my hand, sounding sincere but still rehearsed. He was probably very used to saying that to people. I tried not to let it bother me. “Let us take a seat and get started.” He motioned towards the seat I just vacated. I sat and took a deep breath, not ready to go through this. Reeve reached over and placed her hand over mine that rested on top of the table.

  “Ms. McBride, I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t usually handle wills. My law firm isn’t typically involved in probate law. We did this as a favor to your father as we all respected him very much. So, if it’s ok with you, I’d like to skip over the legal jargon and get to the real meat of the document.” I nodded, agreeing, but confused as to how my father knew this man and how they’d come to respect him so much. “Your father was very well organized and did a very good job planning for his passing. He made it abundantly clear from the very beginning that you were his main concern and he simply wanted you to be comfortably situated after he was gone.” He looked at me and I felt his sincerity in those words. The stinging I felt in the back of my throat was familiar by this point and I struggled to hold back tears at the mention of my father’s thoughts towards me. If there was one thing I was sure of, it would always be that my father loved me. So, I wasn’t surprised to hear that his will was a representation of that. Reeve pulled out a small packet of tissues from her purse and handed them to me. I took them from her, grateful for them, grateful for her, too, in that moment.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed at her, not trusting my voice to work. She squeezed my hand and it was the most comforting thing I’d felt in years.

  “Your mother had a very good life insurance policy, Ms. McBride. When your father received the money, he never touched it. He put it into an account that had very generous interest rates and it’s been growing for the last twenty years. Your father also had a large life insurance policy. After his diagnosis he wasn’t able to add to it, understandably, but I am sure you will have enough to be comfortable for the rest of your life.” Mr. Libman moved some papers around, looking for s
omething in particular. He found it and pinpointed it with his finger, reading the words to me. “The total estate left by Mr. Charles Anthony McBride to his only heir, a Ms. Charlie Anna McBride totals six million, five hundred and fifty-five thousand, four hundred and twelve dollars.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe what he’d said. There was no way my father had that much money. He was a single father, a widower. He worked hard his whole life, never spent money on anything frivolous. He didn’t have money. “That can’t be right,” I added, completely astounded. “Six million dollars?”

  “There are about five million dollars in liquid assets; money in bank accounts or invested in stocks that can be liquefied at any moment. Your father met with our personal accountant before he passed and I can assure you that the money invested is protected and smartly distributed. You are welcome and encouraged to meet with him. In fact, your father prepared for that too and any meetings you have with him have been prepaid. We are hoping you avail yourself to that privilege your father put in place for you.” He paused, again looking down at his paper. “The other one point five million dollars is in the house in Willow Falls, the 2004 Ford Focus that is currently on the property, and other smaller items that all add up to the figure I mentioned earlier.”

  I sat in that chair, silent and stunned, listening to this man talk. Money wasn’t important to me, it never was. I was taught that by my father. So finding out that my father had five million dollars just sitting around was baffling. “How is all of this possible?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

  “Your father was a planner, Charlie. He wanted to make sure you were taken care of. That you had everything you needed to be ok.”

  That part I understood. New tears sprung to my eyes imagining my father putting everything in place before the cancer took him, preparing to die, making sure I would be set for life. All the while, he never told me he was sick. I would have done anything to be by his side during his last moments, to tell him that I loved him, to comfort him as he passed. As difficult as it would have been for me, I wished he hadn’t denied me that.