56
claire
Chris spends the next week by my side. He works but he does it while he’s sitting next to me on the couch, my feet in his lap. He closes the laptop while we watch a movie. He talks to me, hugs me, kisses me. He sleeps with me in his arms.
Daniel hasn’t texted. He must know that the reason I’m not calling is because I’m not alone. The space he gives me, the demands he doesn’t make, make me feel even worse for what I’m going to do.
I wish everything could remain status quo, but it can’t.
It isn’t fair to Daniel.
It isn’t fair to Chris.
And I should have never let it go on so long.
Finally, when Chris has gone back out on the road and the house is empty, I pick up my phone and call him. “Hi,” I say when he answers.
“Hi.” Even over the phone, I know he is smiling. I can hear it in his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m much better,” I say.
“I’m so glad.”
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call.”
“Don’t be.”
“What days are you off this week?”
“Thursday and Friday.”
“Can I come on Thursday?”
“Of course.”
“Okay.”
“I feel like you’re coming to tell me good-bye,” he says.
It’s hard for me to get the word out. “Yes.”
“Then let’s make this last day count. Can you do that?”
The tears start falling. “Of course. I can do that.”
On Thursday I slide behind the wheel of my car and back out of the garage. The sun is shining brightly but the air still feels brisk. When I first met Daniel it was summertime. We haven’t come full circle yet, but warmer weather is on the horizon.
Every other time I’ve driven to Daniel’s it seemed as if it took forever, but today’s drive is over in no time at all, and soon I’m pulling into his driveway. My heart feels as heavy as my footsteps when I park the car and walk up the steps. He waits in the open doorway, watching as I approach. He’s smiling, but it’s a subdued smile.
I smile, too. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says. I put my arms around him and hug him tight. His arms encircle me and we stand like that for a minute, not speaking. Finally, we let go. He closes the door behind me and I follow him to the couch. My favorite blanket is folded neatly and draped over the arm. I’m not surprised; I’m the only one who ever used it.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” he says.
“I know,” I say. I tell him what happened, explain about the DKA.
“Is he taking care of you?” Daniel asks. “Making sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. He stayed home for a week. He’s back at work now.”
Daniel nods and looks away. I know what he’s thinking: If you were my wife, I would never leave you home alone, especially after something like this. But he would. He just doesn’t know it. Chris didn’t want to leave either, but I told him he had to. The world doesn’t stop spinning because I got sick.
I take a look around the room I’ve spent so much time in. It’s a room where there are no lost jobs or marital discord. No one discusses paying the bills or argues about whose turn it is to take out the trash. We brought the best, the most uncomplicated, aspects of our world into this room. Who wouldn’t want that? But we fooled ourselves into thinking that our relationship was uncomplicated because of it.
“Do you want to go for a ride?” he asks. “It might be a little cold.”
I smile. “Going for a ride is exactly what I want to do.”
So we go. It’s not a long ride, but I hold him tight and try to remember every detail: The way the sun shines down on us. The air that smells like fresh soil as the hard ground softens and readies itself for the grass and flowers. The way his shoulders feel when I lay my head on them. When I look back on this day I want to remember it all, no matter how much it hurts.
When we get back Daniel parks the bike in the driveway. I climb off and wait for him to do the same. We both know it’s time for me to go. He stands in front of me and I look into his eyes.
“If things had been different, I would have given my whole heart to you.”
He nods and gives me a smile. “I know.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Good-bye, Daniel.”
“Good-bye, Claire.” He doesn’t walk me to the car the way he always has before.
I’m almost at my door when I stop and turn back around. To hell with this reserve, this formality. I want a messy, emotional good-bye, to let everything that’s been pent up inside of me out.
I could have loved this man. Maybe I already do.
It’s as if he knows what I’m going to do because he opens his arms at the exact moment I start to run. He catches me when I jump, and I wrap my legs around him and hug him tightly. The tears start to fall. When he finally sets me down and both of my feet are back on the ground, he holds my gaze and I know what he’s going to do, but I don’t stop him. He takes my face in his hands, leans down, and slowly presses his lips to mine. The kiss is brief, gentle. Filled with love and longing and what will never be.
“I don’t regret a single minute that we spent together,” he says.
“Neither do I.”
He wipes my tears and this time I make it all the way to my car. When I pull out of the driveway I head toward home, and I don’t look back.