Page 80 of Insatiable Hunger

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Valerie asks from where she’s standing, in the doorway to our bedroom.

“No.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Besides, it’s probably best I do this myself, anyway.”

“Hey…” Suddenly, her hand is on my back, and when I glance down at her, she wraps her arms around my middle. “I’m so sorry, Zeke. I know how much Elena means to you, and how much you’ve been through with her illness. I’m just so sorry.”

My arm around her shoulder, she rests her head on my chest. Valerie isn’t a very tall woman, more than a foot shorter than me. It’s moments like this when I can still feel that bond we have. The one that led us into this marriage of convenience in the first place.

She’s still one of my closest friends, but sometimes, it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. An unspoken type of resentment we hold against the other without even meaning to. Neither of us saw our lives ending up here; in a marriage that truthfully means nothing. This was only meant to be a short-term fix for our problems; a way for Val to get her head above water when it came to her debt, and for me, a way to give my sister something she desperately wanted to witness before she died.

But then she got better—which was a blessing—and there was never a right time to end the marriage, because that would crush Elena. My web of lies kept spinning and growing, and there was never an opportune time to come clean. And in sitting on all these lies, my resentment toward Valerie kept growing, to no fault of her own.

All of this was, and is, on me.

Our friendship used to feel so strong. We used to talk more, feel connected, and I hate that it’s changed.

And then there’re the secrets. They eat away at our friendship too. Even though we aren’t in love, I still can’t tell her certain things, and I’m sure there are things she feels she can’t share with me either… Like the young tennis coach from the country club that offers her special private lessons every week.

I’m sure she feels she can’t admit that to me for the same reasons I can’t admit my sins.

Okay, maybe not the exact same reason.

“What time is your flight?” she asks, finally pulling away from me so I can get back to packing.

“Eight o’clock,” I grunt, zipping up my suitcase. “I’ll be leaving soon, though, because I need to wrap up a few things at the office before I head out.”

I hear her feet shuffle toward the door. “Okay. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen fixing myself a snack if you need me.”

Glancing up, I offer her a smile I know doesn’t reach my eyes, but it’s the best I can do. My chest cavity feels empty, but the dull ache in the center isn’t getting any better. There seems to be a permanent lump lodged in my throat. Every time I try to swallow around it or clear it away, it grows. I knew this was coming, yet I’m no more prepared. My mind races; a slideshow of everything she’s going to miss out on.

My phone lights up on my dresser. Grabbing it, I’m surprised to see a text from Elias. We haven’t spoken much since the incident at his house, and I didn’t expect to hear from him any time soon.

Elias: Mom told me about your sister. I’m really sorry, Zeke. I hate that you have to go through this.

I miss him. As much as I shouldn’t, I do. Miss seeing him around the house. Miss the way he smells, tastes, feels.

Me: Thank you. I appreciate that, Elias.

His reply is instantaneous.

Elias: Is my mom taking you to the airport?

Me: She’s not. I’m driving myself. I have to stop at my office first. I’m actually about to leave here to go do that now.

Elias: Well, I hope you have a safe flight.

**

The office is quiet. No printers buzzing, no phones ringing, no chit-chat. It’s unusual to see it like this, but given that it’s a Saturday, it’s to be expected.

I’m not going to be working while I’m gone, and since I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be away, I need to delegate tasks and send off instructional emails. It’s not often I take time off work.

A day or two here and there, sure, but never more than that.

Feeling as satisfied as I can, I power down my computer and make sure my desk is tidy before turning off the light and closing the door. Locking it first, I make my way to the row of elevators, stepping into one and riding it down to the bottom floor. Checking my watch, it’s just after six now, and I should make it to the airport with plenty of time to get through TSA.

The flight to Miami is only about an hour and a half, but it beats the seven-hour drive. The exhaustion has taken over my body, but I know once I allow myself the chance to rest, it’ll escape me.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my key fob, unlocking the car. When I glance up, I see someone sitting on the hood.

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