Page 122 of Waiting For Fate

The one who has been my other half for most of our younger years and still was well into adulthood.

Knock. Knock.

I can hear a collective sigh from them, but I know they’re not leaving any time soon. They sit on the other side of the door silently for almost half an hour. Sipping what I assume is coffee since I can hear someone shaking the ice in their cup about ten minutes later. They don’t even talk to each other. They’re just here. Then when they get up to leave, they say I love you through the door, and leave.

They’re still here for me, even when I won’t let them be here for me. And that’s why they’re my best friends.

I’ve used more PTO at work in the last few weeks than I have any other time in my entire teaching career. I’m not even sure what today is. I know it’s April, but beyond that I don’t really care. I turned my phone off the day after Dad’s funeral when my mom told me that she was heading to her and Dad’s favorite campsite and wouldn’t have reception. I knew she wouldn’t need me, and I put on a brave face to convince her I would be equally as fine.

I’m not.

I’m as far from fine as one can be before ceasing to exist at all, and I don’t know how to get back. Back to the life I was just beginning to thrive in and undo the damage that’s been done. Losing my dad was an unchangeable, unpredictable tragedy—and by far the worst news I’ve ever received—but losing Sawyer was a self-inflicted and unnecessary one.

I thought it would hurt less if I didn’t have a reminder of the pure joy and all-consuming love I was feeling while part of my heart was leaving the Earth.

Because that’s what Sawyer really is to me. Not the awful reminder I accused him of being.

He makes me happy and has given me experiences I never even dreamed I would have before being with him. He makes the pain of our past seem nonexistent, because he reminds me how much he loves me every chance he gets.

At least he used to—before I made the choice to walk away.

Something I had promised I would never do.

Something I should have never done.

When the series finale of Gilmore Girls comes to an end—again—and previews begin playing for shows I may want to watch next, I snap out of my trance to look for the remote. I’ve officially broken my record for days between hair washes because I can’t remember the last time I even showered.

I find it tucked into the couch cushion, start the show over from episode one, and sink deeper into the cocoon I’ve created around me, breathing in the collar of Sawyer’s hoodie, hoping there will still be some trace of his scent on it to help lull me to sleep—something else I haven’t done since I returned home from Minnesota.

CHAPTER 53

SAWYER

I haven’t spent much time at Chattahoochies since moving back. It’s no doubt the coolest bar I’ve ever been to, with the Viking aesthetic, the old school jukebox in the corner, and the reserved table for fallen soldiers. Max really did something unique with his bar. This is the first place I’ve come to outside of games—that I literally have no choice but to be at—since Allen’s funeral.

“You motherfucker.” I turn to see Tank walking over to me with an unreadable expression. He’s either about to hug me or pummel me and it’s frightening that I can’t tell which it is.

“Hey to you too, Tank.” He strides over and sits down on a barstool next to me as Ruby places a soda in front of him. He gives her a wink then turns to face me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” I try not to give away that I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I never did perfect my poker face. He shakes his head and lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve having a friend like you show up in my life, but you’ve just made more of a change for these people than you may ever know.”

“I wish I could do more, if I’m honest.” Hearing Tank talk about his work and knowing the impact it makes, the real change he’s trying to achieve at The Veterans Center, is admirable.

“I’d say a four-million-dollar donation is plenty, you beautiful Moose. However, if you ever get bored with figure skating with a stick, I’d be happy to put you to work.” I force out a laugh that fades almost immediately and I finish off my whiskey.

“How are you doing man?” He gives my shoulder a squeeze and I plaster on my mask and nod.

“I’m alright.” He studies me closely and takes a deep breath.

“I’m always here man, if you need to talk.” Tank may wonder what he’s done to have a friend like me in his life, but I wonder the same thing about him. He, Max, and Tucker all have been so accepting and some of the best friends I’ve made ever since I got here.

“Thanks man. I appreciate that.”

Tot

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