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I thought of the family and how their grief must be recent. David had drowned three years before, but I still visited him on important days. Today would have been his thirty-fifth birthday. I noticed the white daisies that his sister most likely had left earlier. Daisies had been his favorite flower and were the reason he had them on every table in his sports bar. I’d always found it strange as well as refreshing that he had flowers in a sports bar.
I met David when he hired me part-time as a server in his restaurant. I was underage at nineteen so I couldn’t serve alcohol, but he gave me the job anyway, the loophole being that I could take the drink order—I just couldn’t bring it to the customer’s table. It became apparent a month later why he’d hired me. He was as smitten with me as I was with him.
“Clint didn’t want to be gay,” I began, as usual, having a full conversation with him when I visited.
Funny thing about David and his death was that I never once sensed that he spoke to me from the afterlife. Of course, that didn’t stop me from keeping him up to date on my life.
“It would have been nice to have known that detail beforehand, dontcha think?” I added.
The weather in upstate South Carolina was cool in the spring, and the city of Columbia was no different. I missed the beaches of home as well as Mom and Dad. My graduation was coming up in June and I knew I needed a change of scenery. As much as I needed to move away after four years, I’d miss the small apartment that I’d rented every year since freshman year.
During my relationship with David, I spent most nights at his house, which was closer to his business. But after he passed, and when I met Clint, I moved back to the apartment for me to finish my degree while Clint began his.
The tiny apartment became our little home, and I loved nesting in it with Clint, but after he left, living there had become difficult. I was lonely and everywhere I looked reminded me of him or David. The haunting memories had begun to overwhelm the good ones.
“Maybe I’ll move home,” I said, tugging at weeds at the base of the monument.
“You know, start again,” I added. David was silent. David was always silent. “What do you think?”
I noticed an earthworm had appeared from where I’d pulled a large clump of weeds. I watched as it wiggled, trying to find shelter from the certain death of sun exposure. Slowly and with what appeared to be great effort, the worm inched along.
“Where are you going?” I whispered, fixated on the tiny creature. Like David, the worm remained silent.
A feeling overcame me as I watched the worm. Surprisingly, in the brief time that I had looked away, based on its size, the worm had gone quite a distance on its journey. He steadily, and with purpose, made his way after I had so rudely upended his life, destroying his shelter.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Unlike the worm, I didn’t miss my home, my apartment. My home had also been turned upside down by an event out of my control, and it didn’t feel like a home anymore. Can a home feel like a home when love leaves?
“I’m moving, David. As soon as I can, I’m moving,” I whispered, a decision finally being made by me since Clint still hadn’t returned. Still hadn’t wanted to try again.
I tapped my hand on the headstone. “Look for Jack, will you? Tell him to check in on me.”
Standing, I stared down at David’s grave with tears in my eyes. My heart hurt with questions. I wondered if he was as lonely as I was. Was he alone where he was? Did he sense me being there? I hoped he did.
“I’ll be back, promise.”
I could do three more months in my little apartment. I’d take things a day at a time until the sadness that haunted me began fading. I knew that the hurt would eventually stop because love has a way of remembering good things once our hearts catch up with our minds.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Cole
Twelve Years Ago
Thankfully, the restaurant was dimly lit, so sitting alone at a table didn’t feel as horrible as it could have. A few people turned and looked at the empty seat across from me, smiling even though I could feel their pity.
I’d never been here before and was surprised to see so many gay men, mostly couples, dining in the sophisticated eatery. I glanced at my watch for the tenth time, noting that my blind date was fifteen minutes late. Turning the screen of my cell to face me revealed he hadn’t texted either.
“Would you like to order a drink while you wait?” The handsome server, probably an actor or model trying to make ends meet, asked.
“I’ll give it five more minutes,” I answered, looking toward the front entrance.
There would be no drinking tonight on my part. I wasn’t a big drinker to begin with, but blind dates were not a time to get tipsy. For me to get to know a man, I needed all my senses as well as the ability to recall him later.
My dating life was virtually nonexistent, and rather than blame everything and everyone except me, I knew my lack of opportunities was due to my work goals and my reluctance to sleep around.
“You’ll love Carter,” my assistant Gina had said. “He’s in tech like you. He works out. He’s stylish, also like you, and more importantly, he is single and I’m pretty sure ready to settle down,” she’d pointed out.
“Do you have a picture?” I’d asked, leaning back in my office chair as I gave her idea more thought.
