He’s already holding out the right bag. I’ve been a vegetarian as long as he’s known me, and that’s not changing anytime. He just likes to tease, and I don’t object—as long as I end up with no meat, fish, or flesh whatsoever, though I’ll eat eggs and dairy products.
Plopping into the same chair Helen recently vacated, Corin makes inroads into his chicken salad before squinting and frowning at me.
“What’s up?”
“Max is irreplaceable—except he isn’t.” My teeth clash as I bite hard into the unoffensive sandwich.
“How so?”
“Max is the reason we’re here. He’s the brainstorm behind all the ideas, the improvements, the ways we help make things more accessible and affordable. Heisthe company.” I bang on my desk for emphasis, harder than I intended. A hiss escapes me as I shake my hand and rub at the stinging heel.
“Easy, now.” Corin wags the crust of his sandwich at me. “He wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Then he should have taken care of himself.”
My twisted logic earns a low chuckle from Corin. “Even now, I half-expected him to walk through my door a time or three, drop a brilliant idea in my lap, and then shrug and tell me implementing it was my problem. Irritating as it was, I miss that.”
“That’s mostly what he did these days, so the company will survive without him which it wouldn’t have early on.” Which, sadly, both irritates and satisfies me.
“He wanted that,” Corin has the ill-grace to remind me.
We’d talked about ways to make the company sustainable as we hit different benchmarks: ten employees, twenty, fifty. Corin, me, and Max, with Max full of ideas as always. He became the chief inspiration officer in all but title, flitting from one area to another, contributing a refinement of processing here, and a new way to identify potential clients there.
“True, but that kind of thing’s easier to plan for than to live through.” I scarf down the grapes and bits of orange and apple, then drink the sweet juice at the bottom of the fruit cup that came with my sandwich. Better that, than gnashing my teeth.
“I get that.” Corin nods. “He was younger than me, so theoretically, he should have outlived me. If I can be honest with you …”
Something in his tone prompts me to set aside the empty cup and sit back, staring at him.
“Much as I miss him, I’m glad I’m alive.”
“Of course, he wouldn’t?—”
“Not just alive, but seeing things in a new light. Making changes to ensure I stay healthy. Dreaming new dreams. Considering new possibilities that I probably would never have imagined if he were still here.”
He braces his hands against the far side of my desk, knuckles white. A hint of cider vinegar sours the air. “And for that, I feel guilty. That it took his death to jolt me out of my comfortable routine.”
I squelch my instinctive response, a desire to comfort and reassure, wanting to give him time and space to be heard, tofeelheard. To appreciate that Ilisten, in short everything I’d want him to give to me if I confessed something similar, which I probably could.
Two months mostly away from the office, and I’ve fallen back into old patterns. If Corin hadn’t come in to share lunch, I likely would’ve worked through as I used to do.
“Max was a gift. His life was a gift. His death, early and painful, wasn’t. Nothing could make losing him good,”—I swallow hard—“but he would’ve liked to know good came from it.”
“I still feel guilty.” Corin cracks his knuckles, then massages his hands.
“So do I, for not nagging him about skipping physicals and doctors’ appointments.”
“That’s not your fault. He made his own choices.” Corin runs a hand through his hair. It’s still entirely too orderly, though, and I resist a sudden urge to ruffle it up.
“Which leaves us both guilty and alive.”
“Yup.” He pauses, then turns to go.
“At least you know what you want now. I envy that.” The words slip out before I can call them back.
He rounds the desk instead of going to the door and squats next to me. One knee crackles as he does, and his nose twitches. The sight makes me laugh, until I meet his gaze and find it unusually mysterious.
“I know some of what I want. Doesn’t mean I’ll get it.” Warm fingers cup my chin. “May I?”
