MY PHONE BUZZED relentlessly through the night, alternating between calls and texts. There was no doubt in my mind Delilah was worried sick. But I also knew if I picked up that phone, she’d lash out in anger.
Not that she didn’t have that right. After all, I did knock her to the floor after a few fireworks spooked me and then left in the middle of the night without so much as saying a word to her. The note I left on the kitchen table probably pissed her off more than helped explain my motives for leaving. A vague,I can’t do this anymore. Tell Simon I love him,more than likely froze her heart. Saying the line over and over in my head, I realized how much it read like a suicide note. That hadn’t been my intention when I’d quickly scribbled out the words. All I wanted to do was leave, and fast. If I stopped to think about it too much, I would have somehow talked myself into staying.
And I knew the outcome of that would have been more than grim.
“Fucking bastard,” I cursed myself, clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My arm ached like fucking hell from driving for so long. I still hadn’t mastered the art of controlling the wheel with my thigh, so my arm had been out-stretched pretty much the entire time. I could drive with my prosthetic, but I felt more in control never pulling my real hand away from the wheel. So knowing I didn’t have as much control with my prosthetic arm meant I had to use the “good one” the entire time. My shoulder screamed in pain, but rather than wincing with every move, there was a part of me that delighted in the burn. For the first time in a long time, I was in control of what I felt. Sarge stirred in the passenger seat. Lifting his head from his folded paws, he shifted, nudging my side with his snout. He looked up at me, nothing but concern in his warm, brown eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself enough to refocus my attention back on the road.
I left over twenty hours ago. With adrenaline rushing through my veins, I didn’t need to stop for much more than a few bathroom breaks and some snacks. But with each passing mile, some of the stress dissipated and exhaustion began to outweigh my nervous energy.
“Only a few hours left,” I said to Sarge, running my hand through the soft fur on the top of his head. It killed to reach across my body to pet him with my real hand, but I didn’t mind too much. No matter how strong he was, I could tell Sarge was exhausted. It’d been one hell of a night for him, too. Despite his confusion, he stayed by my side as I gathered all of his belongings, cocking his head to the side as I packed up his food and water bowls. But never once did his dedication waver. He jumped into the car without so much as a second thought. And as I pulled away from the only house he’d ever known, the one I couldn’t stand to live in any longer, he never once looked back, giving me the strength to do the same.
My phone rang. Delilah again. I warred with the idea of picking up her call, of letting her know I was all right, even though I wasn’t. But there was something inside keeping me from doing so. I kept telling myself leaving was my only option. Thinking I was dead was somehow better for her than knowing I was alive.
And with that thought in my head, I powered on through the rest of my drive, back to the only place where I ever felt the tiniest bit of peace.
East Texas was a long fucking way from California. And that was exactly the point. Get as far away from home as possible, and quick, before I changed my mind. It had been almost impossible to pull myself out of Simon’s room as he lay there sleeping peacefully. But in my heart, I knew he was better off without me. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Mile after mile, the lie turned into the truth. Somewhere around hour eighteen, I silenced the voice in my head telling me to turn around, to go back and man up.
But when manning up meant living the rest of your life in a lie, being miserable and scared, well, that wasn’t exactly how I envisioned things. So instead of existing in a world I secretly hated, I chose to leave and attempt to create one in which I could breathe.
Pulling up to the final rest stop, Sarge whined in his seat. “Okay, boy,” I calmed him. “Let’s get you out of here for a few minutes. Run around a bit.”
My knees cracked and popped as I slid out of the front seat. Twisting my back, I stretched as best as I could. A twenty-four-hour car ride after the night I’d had was certainly not the best idea for my body. But, as I looked out at the open field of the rest area, I knew I’d made the right decision. Even though the air was no different than the air back in California, it felt different in my lungs. Gave me a welcomed sense of calm I hadn’t felt in so long.
After clicking his leash onto his collar, I led Sarge out of the car. We took a short walk through the dog area of the rest stop. Since it was still early in the morning, we were the only ones there, save a few truckers coming out of the food area, steaming cups of coffee in their hands.
Sarge and I walked over to a set of benches off in the distance. Knowing he wouldn’t go far away from me, I took him off his leash, letting him explore the grass in front of me. Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Notifications everywhere.
Texts. Missed calls. Voice mails. Facebook.
“Oh fucking hell,” I groaned, swiping my hand through my too-long hair.
Her messages were just as I expected. Concern turned to anger, working its way back to concern all over again. With my fingers hovering above the keyboard, I contemplated what my response should be. All I could come up with wasSorry I’m such a fucking coward,but somehow I knew that wouldn’t calm her.
Figuring something lame was better than nothing at all, I punched out a quick text. Before I could hit Send, my phone buzzed in my hand, his number flashing across the screen.
All thoughts of Delilah and the messages I should be sending her gone, I answered the call, a nervous energy vibrating through my voice.
“Hey,” I croaked, my voice stiff from not having used it in over a day other than to talk to Sarge occasionally. And then just the once when I left Jude a message in the middle of the night. Stupidity and a hazy notion that he’d remembered me as much as I’d remembered him fueled my decision. I had his number from a few years ago. Before joining the service, I signed up for Facebook—easier to keep in touch with family and catch a picture of my kid when calling wasn’t an option. A ball of nerves twisted my gut one day when I saw Jude’s name pop up as a friend. Without any hesitation, I accepted his request. But when he sent a message, including his number and offer to “get in touch so we can catch up,” came through, I ignored it—after saving his number. We e-mailed once or twice since then, but that was all.
An odd feeling settled in my chest when the call went to voice mail, and Jude’s voice played through the line. It was a short, emotionless greeting, “It’s Jude. Leave a message.” And yet somehow it gave me hope. I was so utterly exhausted, I don’t remember exactly what I said. I’m sure I sounded like some kind of bumbling idiot, but, driven by my need to escape, I left a short message, hoping beyond all I deserved that he wouldn’t laugh his ass off as he pressed Delete. Seconds after leaving the message, I wished I could have reached back into the phone and obliterated it.
But there it stayed. And all I could do was wait for him to call back.
“Talk about a call from the Devil himself. I could hardly believe it when I heard your voice in that message. What the hell are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?” Jude’s voice was rich and alive. Confident and deep, it threw me off guard. “How the fuck are you?” He sounded like a frat boy, happy with a touch of cockiness.
In short, he sounded nothing like I expected him to.
I didn’t have the balls or the quick wit to ask why he was calling back so early in the morning. I was too shocked to hear from him at all to be able to spit that line out there.
Gathering some sense of calm, I took a deep breath. Rather than sounding calm and collected, I ended up coming off like some dumbass teenager. “Um, I’m good.”
His laughter filled the line and rather than angering me, it helped put me at ease.
“Like hell you are,” he scoffed with easy laughter in his tone. “I haven’t heard from you in what, like nine, ten years? And now you’re calling out of the blue.” A moment of silence bubbled on the line, the only sound was Jude taking a deep inhale before adding, “Seriously, what’s up, man?” His tone had changed from casually joking to something resembling annoyance.
What the fuck were you thinking?I cursed myself, letting out a frustrated breath. He was right. He hadn’t heard from me in years. I’d been too caught up in life into which I’d tangled myself that I didn’t make any time for anyone else. From the outside, I’m sure it seemed like I was living the dream. Wife, kid, house, all that shit. Soccer practice on Tuesdays and PTA meetings once a month.
