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My dad gave me this place a few years ago. He told me it was his gateway spot, a place he came whenever he needed to get away from everything and everyone. It became my sanctuary, as well. A sanctuary I had no idea anyone else knew about, outside of our immediate family.
“I followed you here a few years back. I was curious about where you always escaped to,” she answers easily.
I feel my eye twitch. I don’t even know what to say to that.
“Not cool, Christine.”
“You always say that. Do you even know what cool is?”
“I know I want you to fuck off! I was trying to sleep.”
She blinks before looking down at the watch on her wrist. She’s wearing a crisp cream blouse over high-waisted jeans. It’s a casual look and I’m hoping it means she’s ready for a night out, far away from here.
“It’s seven p.m.,” she states.
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” I say in irritation.
“Have you been having trouble sleeping again?” she questions, concern leaking into her voice.
Not a lot of people know that I’ve battled insomnia since I was a little kid. My family does, of course, and Christine found out by accident, but that’s it. I hate that she knows. In the past few years, I’ve tried to pretend that my insomnia’s gone so I didn’t worry my parents.
“None of your business,” I grumble.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Apology accepted. You may leave.”
“No. You’re already awake so I might as well stay. Plus, I feel bad. The least I could do is help you fall asleep again,” she says enthusiastically.
I study her for a moment.
“Who sent you here?”
She masks a surprise cough. “What? No one!” she says in a tone that doesn’t quell my suspicion.
“Was it Mom? Matthew?”
She doesn’t reply. I sigh before moving to the sofa in the living room and sitting down.
“I’m fine, Chrissy,” I say quietly.
She moves closer and takes a seat beside me.
“You don’t really believe that. It’s okay to not be fine, Mike.”
I don’t have a lot of friends. And while Christine and I might fight, she’s one of the few people I can open up to. Mostly because it doesn’t matter what happens, she’ll give it to me straight. She’s brutally honest, which is one of the things I like about her, but she won’t hear it from me. I value honesty and Christine always provides that.
“You know the last thing I said to my dad? I ask. She shakes her head. “I told him I would email him the quarterly budget for the new factory the company’s investing in. It was work, Chrissy. The last thing I talked to my dad about was work. I didn’t tell him I loved him. I hadn’t seen him in three months. I was planning to visit in a month, but now he’s gone. I won’t get to do all that. There’s just emptiness now and nothing. There’s nothing in me.”
She places her hand on her shoulder and turns me to face her. I stare into her hazel eyes.
“That wasn’t your fault. So what if the last thing you talked to your dad about was work? We both know he was proud of you. And trust me when I say that he knows you love him. And he loves you as well, more than anything else. How could he not? You’re amazing and the best son a man could ask for. I never sugarcoat anything, so you know I’m telling you the truth,” she tells me.
I chuckle.
“I know, Christine. I miss him, though. For the longest time, the only thing I’ve ever been scared of is grief and loss—and now that I’ve experienced it, it hurts. It hurts like a fucking bitch.”
“You’ll feel better if you let it all out. I know you said you feel nothing but emptiness, but there’s something in you, Mike. Your heart aches right now,” she says softly as she places her hand on my chest. It pounds beneath her touch.
