Page 20 of The Meaning Of You

I turned, wanting those green eyes on mine, but the weight of the compassion I saw almost undid me. He was staring at the underside of my left wrist, his thumb caressing the tinyWill you?tattoo.

“His one saysYes,”I whispered the words and Madigan smiled softly. “We weren’t going to get rings but then he surprised me on our first anniversary with a matching pair.”

He nodded and rested back on the bench, our hands lying joined between us.

I closed my eyes for a second and simply breathed. Then I opened them again. “I knew he was gone the second it happened,” I said, swallowing more tears and feeling that warm hand tighten on mine. “Before Lizzie or Maggie or Samuel. I didn’t need anyone to check or tell me. Everything down to my bones ached with the moment of his parting, like something had been ripped from inside me.”

And still Madigan sat. Quiet and soft as a whisper, the reflection of my face swimming in his eyes.

I looked away, feeling brittle and raw. “I’ve never been religious, far from it. But I had the ridiculous notion that what I was feeling was the emptiness left from where Davis’s soul had joined with mine.” I shook my head. “Crazy, right?” I freed my hand and slipped it under my thigh.

Madigan let it go without a word.

“I’d already lost him in most of the ways that count.” I kept talking, not even sure why. “But I’d always felt...something, you know? The idea of losing that too—” I choked. “—God, it feels worse than anything else.”

Madigan watched me closely, the heat of his gaze like fire on my cheeks. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”

“Really?” I slumped in my seat and stared up at a sky laced with puffs of white. “It was probably nothing more than the last vestiges of hope giving up. No body, no chance of any miracle recovery. The vigil was over.”

Madigan waited to reply until I faced him again. “From what you’ve told me, the two of you had something special. You’ve walked at his side to the very last step, and that’s no small thing, Nick. It’s an experience that can’t ever be taken away from you, the good and the hard of it.”

I thought of those last few minutes at Davis’s side, his cool hand in mine, his chest barely moving, the peace on his face, and I nodded. “I guess it’s all a jumble right now.”

Madigan’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “You said once that Davis was the mostaliveperson you’d ever known, and I don’t believe that kind of energy ever really disappears completely. Someone as animated as Davis would leave traces on everything he touched, including you. Is it really crazy to believe two souls can touch in some way?” He shrugged. “I’m no expert, but if love is as powerful as people say, then maybe it’s crazier to believe that they can’t.”

I stared down at the bench and let his words sink in. Let them roll around in my heart and find a home. Then I looked up. “Doyoubelieve that?”

Madigan shot me a wry smile. “Hell, what would I know? I’ve only been in love once and I’m quite sure it wasn’t reciprocated. I doubt his soul came within a country mile of mine.” The flippant tone and the half-smile that went with it did nothing to hide the flash of pain behind those bright green eyes—a story for another time.

“But however differently people might define the termsoul,” he continued, “I think we’d all agree it’s not the same as flesh and bone, right?”

I found myself nodding, oddly intrigued by the theological bent our conversation had taken. I wanted to know what Madigan thought. Needed to know. It felt... important somehow.

He was frowning, staring out at the garden, concentrating. “So, maybe when you lose someone you love, the wrench you feel isn’t so muchlossbut achangein connection from one form to another. When I lost a good friend way back in my twenties, it felt like reading the wordsThe Endin a book and thenwondering if all those blank pages that followed meant anything. Did the story go on with words I couldn’t see?”

My breath puffed lightly in my chest; a thread of air so thin I feared it might break. I swallowed around the dry lump in my throat and whispered, “And what did you decide?”

Madigan’s gaze grew serious, the fine web of lines that marked the corners of his mouth and eyes softening in the lengthening shadows. “I decided that it didn’t matter,” he finally said. “That maybe our courage lies in not needing an answer. Being content to leave the book open and wonder.”

I let his words sink in, feeling their reassurance ground and nestle close to my heart. Not an answer. Nothing trite like that. Something more important. A safe place to leave the question, for now. A place to return to.

“I think that Davis would agree with you,” I managed. “He’d love the book analogy if nothing else.” I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the crazy paving and seeing my whole world reflected back in the broken incoherent pieces. “But gone or simply changed, it doesn’t alter the fact that it’s not him anymore. Not as I knew him. And it never will be again.”

“No,” Madigan said in a hushed tone. “It doesn’t. And I’m so sorry for that.”

I looked up, and when we locked eyes, I thought I might shatter under the weight of all that quiet concern. I cleared my throat and tipped the remains of my coffee into the garden bed. “I should go. There’re things I need to do.”

“Of course.” He hesitated. “Would it be okay if I came to the funeral, if you’re having one?”

I blinked. The thought that Madigan would want to attend hadn’t even occurred to me. “I... ah...”

He held up his hands. “No problem. I totally get it. Forget I asked.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I reassured him. “Lizzie and I have talked but we haven’t decided on a date yet. I’ll let you know when we do.”

Madigan nodded, a silver-lit lock of hair tangling in his long lashes. He blinked and tucked it safely behind his ear. “Only if you get time, Nick. I don’t want to add to your to-do list.”

“It’s no problem.” I went to stand but Madigan’s hand landed on my arm, holding me in place.

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