“I get why you did it, but, damn, dude,” he says, looking down at the table, with one hand on the shot glass when I don’t respond.
Jarred knew everything, every time Olivia texted me to say happy birthday or wish me a happy holiday, and every time someone hit on us while on leave when I couldn’t even consider entertaining them. Olivia was my soul mate, the only person I ever considered myself with, and Jarred knew that and wanted that for me.
I continue reading the letter as confirmation that I didn’t just dream all of this up and my best friend was waiting overseas for me to hear everything that’s happened while home.
There is something I need you to do. I need you to do it for me, but it’s also for you. You have a family, friends, people who love you and care about you do not lose them. You are my family, the only family that I have ever had, really. Which means I know you, I know you haven’t been truly happy since Olivia and you’re hoping every letter, every call is her. You’re pushing everyone who loves you away.
I also know you are trying to deny this in your head, so stop.
I need you to get out. Retire. Go home. And find your happiness again.
I know what it's like to be unhappy and alone. That is not the life I want for my only brother. Don’t make me fight you in a bar when we meet again.
Reading that last line again and again.
Every time it puts a hole in my heart.
Chapter 23
Olivia
Leavinghomeisalwaysa challenge for me, especially when everyone is together because it doesn’t happen often where the whole family is together, aside from Christmas. Plus, the boys are growing like weeds and I swear they are entirely different humans every time I see them.
Penelope and the boys are staying for another week, Cole and Carter live here so I’m having a little FOMO about leaving.
I drag my travel bag and work backpack down the stairs to pack my car and head back to the city. I only live two hours away from home and have a car that I use in Milwaukee, but it's an old beater Ford Focus that has been handed down through all of my siblings to me. I could buy a new car and finally get rid of the old girl but it still gets me from point A to point B safely and promptly, and is mostly reliable.
I would stay if I didn’t have to work tomorrow but I volunteered to do so, and as the only physical therapist there, I’ll have everyone’s patients. I have a sense of obligation to maintain continuity of care to help the patients in the best way I can.
But there is still a heavy feeling associated with leaving today, one that I don’t normally feel or experience.
I know everyone always says they have a magnetic connection with their person, I mean, that’s the whole point of being with someone, right? You want your partner to be your best friend, to listen to you, to understand, to support you, to love you unconditionally. I have always felt it was a cliché, something that doesn’t truly happen.
But as I’m packing the car to leave for the city, it feels wrong. I have an endless feeling of longing, of not getting closure with Noah, and an everlasting sensation to be near him again.
Damn it, I'm now wondering where he is and what he is doing today.
I know I never give myself enough time after a trip to settle and get prepared for the week ahead of me but what can two additional hours at home hurt? Fuck it. Let’s pack the car and head to his house to see him one last time before heading back to the city.
He may be living back in Fisher Creek, but that doesn’t mean I'm ever truly going to see him again anyway. A few more hours can’t hurt.
I finish loading my car quickly and efficiently, making sure I have everything I need and the boys haven’t hidden anything in my suitcase. The last time I saw them, they hid a favorite stuffed animal in my bag so I wouldn’t feel lonely and would think about them often. Which turned into a panicked Penelope when the stuffy was missing and no one could find it anywhere.
I say a quick goodbye to everyone, promising to come back more often, knowing that probably won’t happen. But there’s something about saying “see ya later” to Pen that feels different. She pulls me into a deep hug and whispers, “see ya later, gator” into my ear, a cute sentiment we used to say to each other when she left for college. I make a mental note to schedule more calls and FaceTime with her, but right now I need to leave before I cry and never get out of here.
The drive from my house to Noah’s would be a straight shot across town if there were a road that traveled straight through the woods. Instead, there is a winding road that lines a small river through the outskirts of town. Once you get to the center of town, it's a straight shot with about two turns to get to his long snow-covered driveway. Thankfully it hasn’t been warm enough for any melting and refreezing to occur so getting to the house poses no problems, aside from having to drive slower than I’d like.
I'm so quick to get out of my car and run up the deck stairs that I don’t notice the thin layer of ice coating the top of the deck until I'm already lying face down. Full of embarrassment, I look up as I see Noah’s mom running out the front door. I jump up as quickly as I can without going down for a second time.
“I’m okay, I promise. Just clumsy” I stammer out, trying to assure her that it's only my pride that’s hurt. It's not the first ice patch I have slipped on and will certainly not be the last, considering I live in Wisconsin.
“Is Noah here? I wanted to see him again quickly before heading back to the city,” I say, changing the subject.
“Oh, honey, you just missed him. He left for his house,” Ms. Kneland says, gripping my forearms.
“His house?” I ask, confused because he never told me he has a house in Fisher Creek or wherever it is. Why didn’t we meet there the other day? Buying a house is a huge deal, and I feel like that is something you tell someone.
“He just got the keys this morning. It needs some TLC but he says the master just needs a fresh coat of paint before it’ll be ready. I imagine that’s what he’s doing now,” she says.
