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1012 Words
My voice breaks when I answer. “He was an excellent athlete. He knew those trails by heart. He’d hiked them a thousand times. The weather was perfect—”
“And none of those things protect people from accidents,” she says softly. “He left his wallet at home. He left his keys. He didn’t just wander away. He didn’t make himself disappear, either. The money in his checking account was never touched. Neither were any of his credit cards. You know the police said there were no signs of foul play they could find.
“I’m so sorry, babe, and I love you so much, but David is never coming back. And he would absolutely hate to see what you’ve done to yourself.”
I lose the battle with trying to hold back tears. They slide silently down my cheeks in meandering hot trails until they drip off my jaw onto my shirt.
I don’t bother wiping my face. There’s no one here to see me but the dog.
Closing my eyes, I whisper, “I can still hear his voice. I can still feel his touch. I can still remember the exact smile on his face when he kissed me goodbye before his hike the morning of the rehearsal dinner. I feel…”
I inhale a hitching breath. “I feel like he’s still here. How can I be with someone else when it would feel like cheating?”
Sloane makes a noise of sympathy. “Oh, honey.”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s loyal and romantic and, unfortunately, totally unjustified. It’s the memory of David you think you’d be cheating on, not the man. We both know the only thing he ever wanted was for you to be happy.
“He wouldn’t want this for you. You’ll honor his memory much more by being happy than by staying stuck.”
My lower lip quivers. My voice goes high and wavering. “Dammit. Why do you always have to be right?”
Then I break down and start to sob.
“I’m coming over. Be there in ten.”
“No! Please don’t. I have to…” I try to breathe, though it’s more like a series of gasps. “I have to move on with my life, and part of that is to stop relying on you so much as my emotional support animal.”
She says drily, “You could’ve just said ‘crutch.’”
“It doesn’t have the same ring to it. Plus, I like picturing you as a big green iguana I take with me on planes.”
“Iguana? I’m a f*****g reptile? Can’t I be a cute little dog?”
“It’s either that or a Siamese cat. I figured you’d take the iguana.”
Chuckling, she says, “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my shirt and blow out a hard breath. “Thank you, Slo. I absolutely hate what you just said, but thank you. You’re the only person who doesn’t tiptoe around me like I’m made of glass.”
“You’re my best friend. I love you more than people in my own family. I would cut a b***h for you. Don’t ever forget it.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Are we good to hang up now?”
“Yes,” I say, sniffling. “We’re good.”
“And are you going to march next door and get your freak on with that fine piece of manhood?”
“No, but my v****a thanks you for your concern.”
“Okay, but don’t complain to me when the next guy who asks you out has genital warts and killer halitosis.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence.”
“You’re welcome. Talk tomorrow?”
“Yep. Talk then.”
“But call me before then if you accidentally slip and fall on Kage’s enormous pe—”
“Goodbye!”
I hang up on her, smiling. It’s only with Sloane that I can go from sobs to laughter within the space of one minute.
I’m lucky to have her. I have a sneaking suspicion that all these years she’s been more for me than just a best friend and a shoulder to cry on.
I think she’s been saving my life.
The doorbell rings, distracting me from my thoughts. I grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table, blow my nose, run a hand over my hair, and try to pretend like I’m a functioning adult.
When I get to the front door and look through the peephole, there’s a young guy I don’t recognize standing there with a white envelope in his hand.
When I open up, he says, “Natalie Peterson?”
“That’s me.”
“Hi. I’m Josh Harris. My dad owns the Thornwood Apartments over on Lakeshore.”
I freeze. I stop breathing. My blood turns to ice.
David was living at the Thornwood when he disappeared.
I manage to rasp, “Yes?”
“We did some big renovations recently—the roof, lots of interior work. Last winter was brutal—”
“And?” I interrupt, my voice climbing.
“And we found this.” Josh holds up the envelope.
Wild-eyed and terrified, I stare at it like it contains a bomb.
He looks sheepish. “Uh, my dad told me what happened. To you. I wasn’t living here then. I was with my mom in Denver. My parents are divorced, but, uh…”
Obviously uncomfortable, he clears his throat. “Anyway, this envelope was caught between the wall and the back of the mailboxes in the lobby. They’re the kind that open from the front, you know?”
He’s waiting for me to say something, but I’ve lost the power of speech.
I see my name and address on the front of the envelope.
It’s David’s handwriting.
I think I’m going to throw up.
- Writer
