Page 49 of Someday Not Soon

With my heart in my throat, I open the bedroom door only to find silence. No sound of coffee brewing, or the low murmur of the television. Only thick, heavy silence.

Is this how she felt when she woke up and found me gone? Now I’m getting a dose of my own medicine, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

With bare feet, I make my way down the hall, ears and eyes open for any signs of her. I tell myself that even if she left, it doesn’t necessarily mean this is the end for us. Maybe there’s another way I can prove that she can count on me.

The kitchen is empty. The lights are off. The bathroom door is open.

Rounding the corner to the living room, I stop dead in my tracks when I see her—on the back porch, curled upin my hoodie and a fuzzy blanket in the wooden rocking chair. She looks euphoric as she stares up at the sky, watching the sunrise. Dense clouds give way to a sky filled with pastels. Her peacefulness is unmistakable.

Opening the French door, her head turns in my direction, not expecting anyone out here at this hour.

“Is it okay if I come sit with you?” I ask.

Her mouth tips up. “Of course. Did I wake you?”

We both gaze out at the watercolor horizon, its hues shifting from blue to orange to yellow. “You didn’t. Actually, I think I slept the hardest I have in years.”

“That so, huh?” She smirks, a hint of pride in her eyes, as if she’s silently claiming credit for my best sleep in years.

“I was worried I had scared you off when I woke up and didn’t see you next to me.”

Her smile fades, the memory of my past disappearance clearly flickering in her mind.

I’ve tried to apologize before, and she told me it was water under the bridge. But anything I’ve said regarding it hasn’t felt like enough. Instead it lingers, unresolved, leaving that old hurt to fester right beneath the surface.

“Look, I know you told me before that everything was fine. But I can’t let it go like that. I want to apologize for what I did. For leaving you like that. For not even reaching out afterward. I was the biggest fucking idiot.”

From her seat, she shrugs. “It’s not all your fault. We both hurt each other. And I’m sorry for my part in it too.”

As the months and years passed, I outgrew the resentment over what she had said. The only anger inside mewas now directed at myself for not having the bravery to make things right sooner.

“Now, as a grown man, I understand why you said what you did. Back then, I was young and dumb, with a bruised ego. You don’t have anything to apologize for—I’m the main one at fault. I was an idiot. I should never have up and left in the middle of the night. I should have texted you back, or reached out. Oranything.” Tapping my thumb against my knee, I add, “I’ve regretted it every day since.”

She nods, seeming at peace with the answer. “I’m glad we talked about it.” Looking up at me with cautious optimism, she adds, “I have missed you. A lot.”

“I’ve missed you too. More than you’ll ever know.” I reach out and grab her hand that’s supported on the chair’s armrest, lacing my fingers through hers.

I’ve waited ten years for another opportunity. I’m willing to wait ten more, and ten after that. Even if all I want to do is throw her over my shoulder right now, yellingmine, like some possessive egomaniac. I’ve waited this long, so I can wait for her decision this time around too.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she blurts out.

“Anything.”

“I really, really don’t like Washington,” she says, exhaling like the confession is a weight off her chest.

“Then why stay there?”

“Because it’s the only fresh start I’ve ever had. It’s not chalked full of memories like Lawson is. I guess I’m hoping it will grow on me one of these days. Once Isettle in. Or maybe I’m just lonely and need to adopt a cat.”

“As long as you find happiness, that’s what matters.” I have to physically bite my tongue from spewing out all the other love sick confessions I want to tell her. That her lifecouldbe here, if that’s what she wanted. That I’d gladly follow her back up north and start over somewhere new if it meant even the slightest chance of being together. That physical location doesn’t mean a thing, because the only home I’ve ever felt is when I’m with her.

We sit side by side, swaying back and forth in our matching chairs, watching the sun disappear behind a tall hill. I wish I could freeze the moment, hold onto the quiet and the closeness, and make it last forever—just the two of us, right here.

“You motherfucker,” Ella mutters as I lay out a six-letter word on the Scrabble board.

Games always bring out a side of her most people never see. While she’s usually reserved, she also has got to be the world’s most competitive person in disguise. Maybe it’s her fierce drive to win, but she could make a professional athlete cry with her level of determination.

“Have a problem with something over there?” I chuckle, straightening out my tiles.

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