Eli
October 22, 2017
I hang up once more after calling Alex’s phone as I pull into my driveway. It’s just after five p.m.
Grace’s car is parked where she used to park.
“Motherfucker.” Panic rises, and I can’t breathe.
I jump out of the car and call for Rookie as I open his door. My stomach drops as I run across the yard, onto the porch, and through the front door. Rookie is beside me.
“Grace!” I yell. It isn’t a happy yell either because, now, I know why Alex isn’t picking up her phone. “What the fuck? Grace!” I pace the living room, too mad to think.
She comes down the stairs in the red nightie she wore on our wedding night.
“Put your fucking clothes on. What the hell did you tell Alex?”
Rookie growls as he stays at my side.
Grace pauses and stops three-quarters of the way down the steps. “The housekeeper?”
“The what? What the hell are you talking about? Please, go put some fucking clothes on!” I yell again.
“Eli, what has gotten into—”
“So help me God, Grace, if you don’t go put on some goddamn clothes, I will throw you outside in the snow.”
I pull out my phone, checking to see if she’s called me back.
“Rookie, bed,” I say.
He follows my command, sensing the fear on my face and the anger in my voice. I know what he’s probably thinking. Way to mess this one up, Dad.
I march upstairs, too mad to wait for her to change, and impatiently stand outside the door, needing to know what she told Alex.
“What did you say to her?” I call from the hallway outside my bedroom.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Grace! I need to know what you told her.”
I groan.
“I told her I was your wife.”
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck.
I should have told Alex. I should have goddamn motherfucking told her.
Okay, Eli. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Instantly, I start to think of ways I can make this right. My insides begin to shake, as I know how fucked up this situation might seem to Alex. I should have told Alex about Grace.
I realize, after being with Alex, how hard Grace was to love. How much she wanted from me, how much she needed from me. The way I used to flip on a dime for her the instant she said my name. We’d been together since we were kids. I felt our small town’s expectations in high school. Every time someone asked when we were getting married. But fate had different plans for us.
At this point, maybe I’ve messed things up so bad with Alex. I should have told her the truth.
God, how could I have been so stupid?
Grace comes out from the bedroom. I’m sitting on the floor because my legs can’t seem to hold me up.
“Grace. This, us—we were over a long time ago.” I’m weak, tired, helpless.
“So, you’re just going to walk away from us, from our history together, just like that?”
My hands in my hair, I look up at her. “Yeah, I am. And you know as well as I do, it wasn’t ‘just like that.’ Come on, we’ve been living separate lives for a long time. How come you can’t see that?”
She leans on the side of the wall. “Fuck you, Eli.”
“No.” I stand. “No, you don’t get to say, ‘Fuck you, Eli,’ and walk off because you’ve been doing that since we were kids. Every time you got pissed off, every single damn time your back was against the wall, you’d just walk away, and I’d come crawling. Like it or not, take it or leave it, I don’t care. Grace, I’m done.” I push my hands through my hair again, my mind panicked about Alex, thinking of how much she must be hurting right now. “Sign the papers, Grace. Our past needs to stay there.”
“You have no idea what this feels like.” Grace crosses her arms, staring into my eyes.
“What what feels like?”
“Being left behind.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not going to get into a pissing match about who left who because, right now, I want nothing more than to go make right what I’ve done. I’m not wasting any more time on explaining every different fucking way that this is over.”
I walk past her and down the stairs.
“You have the divorce papers with you?” I call up.
There’s a long silence between us.
“Yeah,” she finally says.
“Sign them. Leave them on the kitchen counter. Take what you need. Let yourself out. I’m going to Portland.” I grab my keys. “Come on, Rookie.” Portland has the only flights back to California.
The snow is getting worse after I drop Rookie off at my dad’s.
I explained the situation to Merit and Pop and told them I’d call as soon as I found something out.
Merit muttered, “I told you so,” and Pop grinned.
I knew what the grin meant; it meant I was finally fighting for what I loved.
I make it to the airport. I might be stuck at the Portland International Airport, but if that means I’m one step closer to Alex, I don’t care. I’ll live here. This airport is the only main airport that will get Alex back to California. I suppose she’ll be waiting for a flight, so I go to each flight board and mull over all the delayed or canceled flights.
My phone is to my ear as I wait for Alex’s voice on her voice mail.
“Hey. It’s me again. Please, if you’ll just let me explain, I’ll tell you everything. Please don’t leave without hearing my side of things. Please.” I pause. “I love you, Alex.”
I collapse into a chair after I’ve searched the entire place for her. Calling her phone, I let it ring, knowing she won’t answer, just so I can hear her voice, repeating the same words over and over. I call it again. Walking up to one of the desks, I ask the clerk for a pen and piece of paper.
I take a seat at one of the gates.
Dear Alex,
If you had told me ten years ago that Grace wasn’t going to be the person I would be with for the rest of my life, I’d have said you were crazy. I’d have said that it’d been in the cards since we were nine.
But life happens, right? It changes. We change. We think we want change. Sometimes, we need change.
The problem with all of this is that we’re human. Our imperfections seem to grow glaringly obvious. The perfections I thought I had, my greatest assets, have become my imperfections, Alex.
The thing is, I didn’t see you coming. That day in the bakery, you were there—really there. And all of my imperfections went away because of one look you gave me. They sat idly in the background, waiting for me.
This letter isn’t to make excuses for who I am, but it’s to tell you how much you have changed me. The woman you are has brought out my imperfections in the best way possible. Allowing me to own them, allowing you to see them. See me for who I am.
The truth is, Alex, I’m in love with you, totally and completely in love with you. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes to get you back. I’ll move to California. I’ll find a different job.
I’d like to start over with you, if you’ll let me.
And seeing that you haven’t picked up your phone in the last twenty-seven calls that I made and twenty-seven voice mails I left, here goes:
Alexandra Fisher, my name is Eli Young. My first wife’s name is Grace. We’ve been separated for three years, and after I met you, I knew what I had to do. I filed the divorce papers on a Monday when we were in town. I didn’t tell you, and I should have. I can’t change this mistake, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.
I like the color blue.
I love the cool, crisp, morning air in the fall.
I love the Boston Celtics, but you already knew that.
I still miss my mom.
My middle name is Shane.
I’ve traveled to New York, Massachusetts, Florida, Montana, and Texas—all by car. But I’ve never been as far as California.
I became a game warden for two reasons: my love for animals and my love for the law.
To decompress, I work.
My favorite time of the year is Christmas even though it’s cold as hell here.
My favorite time of day is just before the sun rises and sets. Those are the only times of the day where the light is almost exactly the same, where the world grows quiet.
I want all your firsts, Alexandra. Although I know that’s hard, being that we were both married before. Instead, I want your lasts. I’ll take the last time we make love. The last time you cook dinner. The last time we both sit in our chairs to watch the evening news. The last time you write The End. The last time you tell me you love me. The last time you breathe. I want all of those. Because the time we have left together isn’t nearly enough time to show you how I’ll collect your lasts, take care of them, create memories around them that will last until one, or both of us, takes our last breath.
Please, I’ll explain everything. Say the words, Alex, and I will be there. Let me make this right with you.
I love you.
Eli
I realize I don’t have her home phone number or her home address in Belle’s Hollow. I sit back in the airport chair, hope to God that fate shows its face in my favor. I shove the letter in my pocket, sit back, and wait.
The overhead speaker rings in my ear. I jump, my body on alert as the airport comes to life. Shit, I must have fallen asleep. My stomach grows queasy as I realize I might have missed her.
Fuck.
Shit.
Motherfucker.
I run to the flight board that hangs overhead and look at departures.
“Fuck!” I whisper-yell. I want to kick the chair next to me, but I don’t.
Most of the flights have been canceled but not the one to Chicago. What if she caught a plane from here to Chicago and then Chicago to San Francisco?
“Shit, shit, shit.” I take my fist and hit the titanium pole next to me. I wait for the pain in my hand to match the pain in my heart. It doesn’t even come close.
My phone rings, and before I look, my heart explodes and falls to my feet as I pray that it’s Alex. My stomach grows more nauseous.
It’s not her.
“What?”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Portland? Why?”
“Portland? What are you doing there?” Ryan asks.
“Long story.” I hold my forehead in my hand and take the seat next to me. “What’s up?”
“Turns out, Lowell Malcomb has a few outstanding warrants on poaching charges that we can bring him in on for questioning. Figure out what he knows.”
“Great. Fine. Where?”
“Granite Harbor Police Station.” He pauses. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing in Portland at six in the morning?”
I sigh into the phone. “Grace is back in town. Alex found out. It’s a fucking mess.” I know what the fuck he wants to say—I told you so—but he doesn’t. “After Alex left my house, I assume she came to the airport.”
I search the terminal for her dark eyes, knowing she could be on her way to Chicago already—or worse, California.
“You drove to Portland on a whim that Alex might be there?”
“Are you seriously asking me these stupid fucking questions right now?”
“No, bro. Just … be safe driving home. Roads are still pretty bad.”
“Yeah.” I hit End.
“So, she has a P.O. Box in Belle’s Hollow,” Merit calls from the dining room. “I cannot believe she wrote all these books, and I had no idea.” She sits, fascinated, staring at her computer screen.
I walk behind Merit, placing my hand on the back of her chair, looking at Alex’s website.
“And look at that picture. Jeez, Eli. You sure know how to pick them.” She gives me a backward slap on the arm.
She’s beautiful. God, she’s so beautiful. And, now, the only way I can picture her right now is by herself, heart obliterated because she decided to eat the lettuce and I fucking screwed it all up. I did this to her.
“Mer,” I whisper, “I broke her heart.”
“I know, you asshole. Let’s get her back and put her heart back together.”
Merit scribbles down the P.O. Box listed on her website.
“Hey, Eli?” Pop calls, almost fully recovered from his procedure. “Come in here, would you?”
“Yeah, Pop.” I walk into the living room where the television blares an infomercial about My Pillow.
“Sit down.”
I do.
“I want to tell you a story.” He eases back into his chair, rests his head on the back of the chair, and stares at nothing. “It seems like just yesterday when your mother and I met at the downtown square in Granite Harbor. It seems like just yesterday when she told me to stop rocking on my heels. I had a nervous habit the first six months we were courting.
“She said, ‘Brand Young, why do you rock on your heels so much?’
“I stopped, unaware I’d been doing it.
“‘I-I’m afraid you’ll run. One day, you’ll realize, I’m just a Mainer who lives life moment to moment with nothing to offer you, except my love. So, I rock on my heels, keeping my legs warm, so that, in case you run, I’ll be ready to chase you.’”
Pop stops for a moment and then continues, “Then, she looked at me, grabbed my hand, and said, ‘If I run, I’ll always make sure we’re holding hands because, Brand, there’s no way in hell I’m letting go.’”
He takes a deep breath. “Son, I’ve always tried to instill in you and your sister integrity. Honesty. Values.” He shrugs. “I also expected you both would make mistakes along the way.” He stops again. “Fear changes us. I think you didn’t tell Alex about Grace because you were so damn scared of losing her—just like you’d lost your mother.”
It hits me like a punch to the gut.
Not a soft blow either.
Hard, fast, out of nowhere. I suck in whatever air I can.
Pop doesn’t talk about Mom very often. I think he still lives with the heartbreak every day. And, honestly, I think he’s stayed this long on this earth, so he could keep an eye on Merit and me. I think, too, he feels guilty for Mom dying. I can’t say why, but he’s always felt responsible.
“What do I do, Pop? How do I make this right?”
“Get right in your head.” He puts his finger to his temple. “Right now, you’re running on fear. Heartache. Trust me, Striker, I know what that feels like. Get right in your head, and the rest will follow. It will come to you if it’s meant to be. Sometimes, we have to trust fate. We have to trust time. Sometimes, situations are too messy. They just need to be put away for a bit. Besides, didn’t she lose her husband in a fire about three years ago?”
I pause. “How did you know that?”
“Google.”
Holy shit. I didn’t even think to do that. Smiling, I put my hand over the top of his. I don’t have to say thank you because he knows.
“What if she moves on?”
He shrugs. “Then, fate has spoken. I didn’t say it’d feel good.”
“Like you and Mom.”
He sighs this time. “I think we have our journey here on earth. I think that we all walk a path. We’re also given choices in life. I could have moved on. Married someone else. Probably been happy. And not that I wasn’t happy; raising you and Merit was the center of my world. I just chose not to give my heart away again.” His eyes meet mine; they burn into me like fire. “But, sometimes, fear can also keep our hearts paralyzed. Not wanting to walk through the pain again of losing someone else. I guess it comes down to what price you’re willing to pay.”
I get it. But he isn’t talking about me. He’s talking about Alex.
“Give her time, son.”
I’ve never seen my father cry. Not even after Mom died. I thought he couldn’t because the heartache was too much. But I see him now, a boy who lived a hard life, grew into a man with integrity, raised us right.
“I’m real proud of you and your sister.”
“Oh, Pop. You’re just saying that because you want your lobster and butter tonight,” Merit says, leaning against the frame of the kitchen, watching us. “Remember what the doctor said. Baby steps.”
Pop chuckles. “All right, you two do your own thing. The news is back on.”
I take my hand from his, but he grabs mine before I walk away.
“Eli, I want grandkids before I die. I know your sister isn’t even close,” he whispers.
I don’t know what to say to this, but I nod to make him happy.
I can’t bring myself to make the short drive home. Rookie is curled up by the fire.
That night, before I go to sleep on Dad’s couch, I address the letter to Alex and seal it.
I’ll mail it tomorrow on my way to work.
If fate has a plan, I guess I just have to trust it.