Page 106 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“I’m sorry, man. I really am. I thought she would’ve… I did think it was all very sudden. She hadn’t said anything all day yesterday at the birthday party and then this morning I got a call from her and…” He shrugs, looking a little helpless.

“Yeah. No.”

He says something else, but I’m not listening anymore, the past two and a half months flashing in my head like some kind of torturous reel.

I didn’t even merit a fucking goodbye?

I can’t be here anymore. I really can’t. I need to figure out what my next steps are. Figure out what I’m supposed to do for the rest of my life now that…

“Daniel,” I interrupt whatever the hell he was saying. I don’t care. “I think I’m done here. In more ways than one.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but immediately closes it. I can see in his eyes how apologetic he is, how much he wants to help. But no one can help now. Finally: “I understand.”

I grab my camera and pop the SD Card, slapping it on the counter. “Here are the photos for the listing. Obviously unedited and maybe not enough of them, but you can hire someone else to do that for you. I’m done.” I don’t want them in my life—all those photographs of this town, of her, of us—of this fucking relationship we were building even when we thought we weren’t… I don’t want the reminders. The temptation to revisit them when she’s made it very clear it will never be a reality. They are merely photos of a moment in time—nothing more.

“If she’s gone, then… Then I’m gone. I can’t be here anymore.”

“Wait. What? No. What about the rest of the tasks we need to complete? And the sale?”

I start breaking everything down, packing up my equipment. “Jenn can handle whatever’s left. It’s not much, and she’s honestly more than capable. And you have my email for everything else. And with regards to Walter’s apartment… There’s still some stuff there—I haven’t cleared everything out. But I’ll just hire some guys to put it all into storage. I’ll pay you to clean it up and stage it.”

I’m done. I’m gone.

It doesn’t take long for me to pack up my things; I just need the basics. Like I told Daniel, I schedule some movers to get the rest of my stuff—Walter’s stuff—for the following week. They’ll shove it into some storage somewhere out of sight, out of mind. All I decide to take with me are my camera gear and some clothes. But as I’m wrapping up the last of my packing, I don’t reach for my leather jacket. The sight of it tears at my heart, shreds it, the mix of her scent with mine too difficult to bear. I think of how sexy she looked wearing it, each time she did waking my caveman instincts. Mine was all I could think of, despite never realizing she was far from that. Always keeping me at arm’s length, even after thinking that I’d brought all her walls down.

Never mine.

I toss it on the bed, leaving it behind. Don’t even want to look at it anymore.

It takes me a moment to get to a place where I feel comfortable driving. I have a nine hour trip ahead of me to my mother’s place and it’s not a good idea to drive this distracted, is it? With your heart torn to pieces and your mind a jumbled mess?

Because it isn’t just the reason why I’m leaving that’s got me rattled. It’s my destination. After all of this, after reading all those snippets of Walter’s innermost thoughts, there is no other option but to confront my mother. And even if I didn’t, even if I choose to avoid the topic altogether, the fact that most of my professional gear is stored at her house means that I won’t be able to avoid her regardless. And I know myself. I know that after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve learned, there’s no way I’m not going to question her.

I realize I’m the one who’s throwing myself out of the pan and into the fire, but I can’t keep avoiding my father forever. Or our sudden similarities—both suffering from unrequited love, both betrayed by the women they worshipped.

Finally, I get it together at least enough to walk, only to trip on one of the boxes I left by the front door. Walter’s journals—so many of them still unread. With Lottie’s help, I’d gotten through some, never able to face his words by myself. But now I’m alone. And it’s something I’m going to have to accept, whether I like it or not.

I swing my camera bag strap over my chest on my left shoulder, my duffel bag on my right, and carry one of the boxes of journals all the way to my truck.

Before I start the engine, I shoot off an email to my agent accepting the three-month job—fuck it, who’s gonna miss me anyway?—and slam my hands on the steering wheel hard and loud enough to draw some looks from multiple passersby.

It’s fine. The outsider is leaving. They can add that to the list of shit they’ll say about me.

And without another thought, without any other ounce of hesitation, I leave just like she did.

I wake up the next day in my mother’s guest room just at the break of dawn—just a few hours after having arrived to the house. Last night, I didn’t stop once for food or bathroom breaks, laser-focused on one thing and one thing only: the truth. Because it seems to me that I haven’t been getting much of it over the course of my life. Not from my mother, my father, or the person I thought was the love of my life. Using the key under the mat, I let myself in, snuck into the spare bedroom, and tried to fall asleep despite knowing the tough conversation that awaited me this morning.

The sound of dishes clattering together, cabinets being opened and closed, alert me to my mother being awake, despite the early hour. And just from that, I know it’s an admission of guilt.

Because Melissa Riddick is far from a morning person.

Heaving a sigh, I throw the covers off and pad out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I stop in the doorway, arms crossed in front of my chest, as I stare at her. In her messy top-knot and pajamas, sitting at the worn kitchen table, my mother looks more vulnerable and frail than the hero I’ve always regarded her as.

“Ma. You’re up early.”

With obvious effort, she meets my gaze with wide, blue eyes. Same as mine. Lips trembling, tears building, she knows exactly why I’m here.

“I heard your truck when you came in last night. Been up since.”