And sweet.
And kind.
And funny, cute, adorable.
And mine, oh so fucking mine that some days I missed her so fucking bad that I felt as if I was slowly dying without her.
I had her for twenty-five years of my life, and she’d been dead for twelve, but I still felt her in everything I did. Allie was the person I could sit in silence with and feel everything. What we had wasn’t perfect. Hell, some days, she pissed me off to the point where I wanted to walk away and never go back. But I always stayed because what we had was honest and real, and there was nobody else on earth who was worth fighting for more than my Allie.
Then she left me, permanently.
Over time, the pain of losing her became easier to live with. I threw myself into my work and my new life because what else could I do? My wife was a memory, and some days, I got scared when I struggled to conjure up the only face I never wanted to forget—because if there was ever a woman who deserved to be remembered, it was my Allie.
Rolling off the throttle of my Sportster S, I downshifted and braked until eventually, I came to a halt outside the ornate gates of the memorial park. I could’ve ridden in, but my bike was noisy enough to wake the dead, and it would have been disrespectful.Plus, as much as it crushed me every time I walked inside those gates, the time it took for me to get to Allie gave me a chance to get in the right headspace so I could face my wife.
Dismounting, I took my helmet off and hung it from the bars. Then I untied the balloons I’d fastened to my handlebars. A couple of them tried to make a break for it, but I hauled them back into submission before making my way inside what I could only describe as a park.
Allie loved nature, so trapping her inside a box didn’t seem right. She would have wanted to be outside with the trees and birds, so that’s what I gave her. I wanted a place where me and her family could come and be at peace, and more than that, I wanted her to be at peace, too.
Following the path that led to her always felt dream-like, and that day was no exception. I took in the flowers laid beside the plaques fixed flat into the ground and, for the millionth time over the years, wondered how somebody so full of life and so vibrant could be taken so suddenly.
Allie was eleven days younger than me. Our moms had been best friends since kindergarten, and I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t love her. My first memory was of Allie, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that her last thought would’ve been of me.
I knew everyone was there before I saw them because I heard the music and their laughter, so when I rounded the corner and saw them all sitting on fold-out chairs, holding beer bottles and sipping wine from plastic glasses, it wasn’t a surprise.
Jean, Allie’s mom, noticed me heading their way first. She put one arm in the air and hollered, “Woohoo! The wanderer returns. Come see.”
I grinned, shaking my head.
“What the fucktime do you call this!” my dad called out. “We’ve been here for hours. Where y’at?”
Taking in the empty bottles and his inebriated state, I believed him. “I’m good, Pop. It’s a long ride from Virginia.”
“I told you to fly in last night,” my mom berated, her words slightly slurred from the copious amounts of wine she’d no doubt been consuming. My ma wasn’t a wine drinker—or really a drinker at all—but every year when we came here to party, she always cracked a bottle open in Allie’s memory ‘cause it was my wife’s drink of choice.
Leaning down, I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek, then turned and kissed Jean’s cheek too. “I told ya, I was working.”
“Partying more like,” she grumbled as I gave my dad, who’d stood up to greet me, a man hug, then leaned over and gave Allie’s father, Malcolm, a handshake.
“Iwasworking,” I reiterated. “We were covering an amber alert, and they needed me to man the drone.”
“Did you find the kid?” Dad asked.
I leveled him with a look. “What do you think?”
Dad gave my shoulder a hard clap. “Good man.”
I got down on my haunches and tied the balloons to the roses laying by my wife’s name plaque.
“Miss you, baby,” I whispered, touching my fingertips to my lips and then the plaque. “Happy birthday.”
Allie’s voice echoed through my head.Miss you, too, honey.
I stood and turned toward my family, nodding as Malcolm gestured to the empty chair beside him.
“How long did it take ya?” he asked.
“About fourteen hours,” I replied, picking my way over and taking the seat. “I rode through the night, so I missed all the traffic.” My eyes fell back onto themassive bouquet I’d had delivered to my mom’s house the day before. “Flowers are pretty. Allie would’ve loved ‘em.”
