Page 108 of Both Sides Now

That ends today.

With a strangled cry halfway between a war whoop and a hiccup, I snatch the key off the hook and march toward the room with far more bravado than I feel. My hand trembles as I slide the key into the lock.

Do I really want to do this?

Callista, do you really have a choice?

I swing open the door. The room is dusty, with a musty smell hanging in the air, but other than that, it’s just an office.

What the hell did I expect? A killer clown popping out from the corner?

Wouldn’t that be good for a laugh?

My gaze settles on a photograph of me prominently displayed on Charlie’s desk. I’m wearing a skimpy dress, striking a femme fatale pose. But it’s the smile on my lips and the light in my eyes that catch my attention.

I scramble to grab my phone, ignoring the litany of messages as I scroll through my photos, stopping at one Keegan took of me before my meltdown in Mystic.

He took it the night we proclaimed our love. The night we spent with nothing but our love between us.

I’m wearing the same smile. The same light shines in my eyes.

The glow of love that I wore so well with Charlie reignited with Keegan.

Keegan, the man who’s now gone from my life.

Just like Charlie.

With a scream, I pitch the framed photo across the room, taking great satisfaction in the shattering glass.

I shove the contents of Charlie’s desk onto the floor, as my poor dog skitters for cover from the cacophony of noise.

“Why?” I wail again and again as I dump out the contents of each desk drawer. When it’s over, I sink to the ground in a heap, sobbing against the wood hutch, my breath arriving in gulps.

“Why did you leave me, Charlie? Why doesn’t Keegan want me? Why don’t I deserve love, too?”

The silence is deafening, ringing through my ears with answers I’ll never receive. I wipe my eyes, hiccuping now through my tears, as my gaze catches on a small box.

What in the world? I’ve memorized everything that belonged to Charlie but I’ve never seen this box before.

I crawl over to it, turning it upright. Inside is a collection of photos—of Charlie, of me, of us. My fingers trace the edges of the paper, wishing I could have him back for one more day. He’d know what to say to break me from this funk.

He always did.

An envelope sticks out from the side of the box, and I open it, expecting to see more photographs inside. Instead, I pull out a sheet of paper, my breath catching in my throat when I see the familiar handwriting.

Turn on the computer and open the file named Darling Girl.

xx

Charlie

I press the power button on his computer with trembling fingers, and wait for what seems an eternity as the machine awakens from an almost two-year slumber.

I spy the file, and the tears start anew. It’s a movie file. For the first time in years, I’ll see my dear husband again.

And then, through the magic of technology, Charlie is there in the room with me, complete with his crooked and endearing smile. I know from the pallor of his skin and his gaunt frame that this clip was recorded not long before the end.

But still, he smiled. Right until those last days when he drifted out of consciousness and away from me.

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