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“I’m gonna miss you, too.” I knelt to pet Winston, and he rolled onto his side for me to rub his belly. “And figures, this guy is finally starting to like me right when I have to leave. I’ll miss you the most, you fluffernutter.”
Shannon always looked like she was holding back saying something. She knew about Dax and me, so it was always a little awkward around her. But I was glad Dax had her as a sounding board, happy that she was someone he could trust and talk to.
I looked toward the stairs. “Is Rafe in his room?”
“Yeah. He knows you’re coming to say goodbye.”
I headed upstairs and knocked on Rafe’s door, which was open.
He removed his earbuds. “Hey.”
The room smelled like Cheetos and sweaty socks. I moved some notebooks to the side and sat at the edge of his bed. “How are you?”
He shrugged. “Okay…”
“I can’t believe I have to say goodbye to you tonight.”
He frowned. “I know.”
“We’re gonna talk on Zoom a lot, okay? I’ll turn my camera around some of the time and show you France. It’ll be like you’re there with me.”
“That’ll be cool.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked him.
He shrugged, his expression sullen. “I guess. It just sucks that you’re leaving.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“When do you come back?”
“Well, I don’t have an exact day. I don’t know how I’ll feel in two years, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be coming home the first chance I get. So maybe around two years from next week? Mark your calendar now.” I smiled. “I hope it’s okay that I asked my dad to come visit you for me from time to time, since I can’t be here in person.”
“That’s fine. Your dad’s nice.”
“Promise me you’ll be good for Dax. He’s trying. I know you don’t always get along with him, but he cares so much about you.”
“He’s alright,” Rafe muttered.
I chuckled. Yeah, he is.
I looked over at a sketch on his desk. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He’d drawn the spitting image of Dax in pencil.
I went over to it, lifting the paper. “Did you do this?”
“Yeah.”
The angular jaw, the perfect nose, the magnetic eyes… It was spot on.
“Rafe, this is unbelievable.”
He tried to downplay it. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“How did I not realize you could draw like this?”
“I don’t show many people.”
“Dax has never seen this?”
“No.”
“You need to show him.”
“No way. I don’t want him to know I drew him.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s creepy.”
“It’s not creepy at all.”
“I’ve drawn you, too.”
My mouth curved into a smile. “No way. Can I see?”
He walked over to his desk and opened a folder that contained drawings of several people, many of whom I assumed were classmates. Then he turned to a sketch of me. Just like the one of Dax, it was strikingly lifelike. It was like looking in the mirror.
“Oh my God. You’ve got to let me have this. I want to put it in a frame and hang it in my apartment in France.”
He shrugged. “Take it, if you want.”
I looked through all of the illustrations. There was even one of Shannon. Then I returned to my favorite—the one of Dax. I looked back and forth between that one and the drawing of me, feeling overwhelmed with love. Once again, doubts about leaving crept in. Everything I loved was here. Rafe. My dad. Dax.
Dax.
I loved Dax. I knew it in my heart, but this was the first time I’d admitted it to myself.
I held up the drawing of Dax. “Can I have this one, too?”
“Why would you want that?” he asked.
Fair question. “I just think it’s really good.”
“Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Just don’t show it to him.”
“I won’t.” I tucked the two drawings into an empty manila folder Rafe had laying on his desk.
I sat again on the edge of his bed. “I think we should have a regular time every week to talk. What’s good for you?”
“I have to check my schedule.”
“Are you serious?”
“No.” He laughed.
I loved this kid. He’d come such a long way—from not talking at all to a total ball buster.
After spending two hours hanging out with him, I finally hugged my brother goodbye, one of the hardest things I’d ever done. My gut told me this was only the tip of the iceberg, though; and tomorrow would be even harder.
• • •
Nothing could’ve prepared me for how I felt the following afternoon—the day of my departure. After a long and tearful goodbye with my father before he left for New Hampshire this morning, I’d been alone and basically panicking.
All of my stuff was packed, but I felt frozen and unable to perform simple tasks. Case in point, I’d taken off my toenail polish last night and had spent forty-five minutes of precious time today trying to decide on a new color. Then when I finally selected one, my hands were trembling, so I couldn’t even paint my toes. Thank goodness I didn’t have any more packing to do in this state of mind. I would’ve never finished.
