To Say Goodbye (10 page)

“It’s good to have you home,” her dad said, approaching her for a hug.

The three sat down at the kitchen table, the same one Sophia had done her high school homework on, had painted her nails on for prom, had sat around when she told her parents she was engaged. It was filled with memories.

“So, honey, we’re glad you’re here. We wanted to talk to you about something.”

Sophia perked up, looking up from her plate after serving herself some turkey.

“Oh yeah?”

“Your father and I have an idea.”

They looked at each other, pausing, as if weighing whether or not to continue.

“Go ahead, guys.” They were making her nervous.

“We want you to move back home with us.”

Sophia stopped herself from laughing out loud. “Are you serious?”

They didn’t laugh, didn’t budge. Clearly they were serious.

“It’s just, well, we hate you being so far away and all. All alone in that big house, surrounded by memories. We miss you. We’re worried about you. It’s not good to be cooped up alone. Come home. You can have your old room back. We’ll find you a job at Maria’s salon.” Maria was her mom’s friend from high school.

“Guys, you can’t be serious. My life is in Hollidaysburg. I can’t just leave my business, Stella, everything behind.”

“We hate you being there, so far away. We know this is hard. And, honey, with the holidays, it’s only going to get harder.”

Sophia felt frustration mounting. She reminded herself they were just trying to look out for her.

“Guys, I’m fine. Really. I’m going to be fine. I love you, and I appreciate the offer. But I’m not going to just leave my life behind. Honestly. Today’s a holiday, and I’m fine, aren’t I?”

Her mom sighed. “Well, think about it. The offer still stands. One phone call, and we’ll be there with a U-Haul.”

“I’m sure you will.” Sophia smiled, reaching to gently touch her mom’s hand. “Now can we talk about something else, please? How’s retirement? What have you been up to? Any exciting plans?”

They proceeded to chat about her mom’s hope to travel to Paris over the summer and the new knitting class she was taking. They chatted about trivial things, which was exactly what Sophia wanted, what she needed.

The day passed quickly, just like Sophia hoped it would. Her parents mercifully tried to do everything to scoot around the fact it was a holiday. There were no holiday traditions in place—no “let’s talk about what we’re thankful for,” none of Tim’s favorite pumpkin pie. They pretended it was just a dinner, another day, and Sophia was glad for it. The less fanfare the better.

Sophia felt refreshed. It was a relief to be out of her house, away from the memories. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe she should consider the offer.

But when she thought about leaving it all behind for good, the sadness came back in. It wouldn’t do her any good to run away. Sure, leaving her house, her town might be a temporary relief, might make her feel better for a time. Eventually, though, he would creep back in. The memories, the images, they would follow her. She couldn’t forget.

In truth, she wasn’t ready to forget.

She wanted to stay surrounded by their life, by her life. She needed Stella, the shop, the familiars of the life she’d built with Tim.

As she said her farewells to her parents, wished them a Happy Thanksgiving, and climbed into her car, she realized something else.

She’d survived the first major holiday without him.

Pulling out of her parents’ driveway, headlights illuminating their smiling and waving bodies, she turned the radio down.

The soundtrack of their memories would accompany her on the way home. It was too loud, drowning out everything else, for her to even think about listening to the radio.

Tears were overpowered with a smile, though, as she thought about last year.

_______________

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked incredulously as he stood across from her in the kitchen.

“I’m dead serious. Come on, don’t be such a killjoy. Let’s do it.”

“But...” All of the reasons this was a bad idea rushed to her mind.

Their families would be devastated.

They didn’t do things like this.

It wasn’t traditional.

It would be freaking cold.

He ambled across the kitchen, his eyes pleading with her. “Come on. Let’s not be those boring, married people for once. We can see our families another time. Let’s do this. You. Me. A bottle of wine. Some sand between our toes.”

“Some snowy sand maybe. Have you forgotten it’s November? As in the end of November?”

“So bring a sweatshirt. It’ll be fun. It’ll be peaceful.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Okay.”

“Yeah? You’re in?” He smiled widely, the one she loved.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You can be the one to break the news to our parents that we won’t be attending the traditional family Thanksgiving.”

“Do you want your mom to hate me?”

“She already does,” Sophia winked. Tim poked her in the ribs, tickling her until she shrieked.

“Take it back.”

Sophia just continued to scream.

“Take. It. Back.”

“Okay, okay. I’m kidding.” He finally stopped, and Sophia backed up to catch her breath. She shook her head. “You know my mom freaking loves you. I think she likes you more than me.”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. I’m amazing.”

“Okay, Mr. Amazing. You have some phone calls to make.”

“Let me book the hotel first.”

“You better make sure we get the hot tub suite. Guess I should go pack my suitcase.”

“Just a bikini will be fine,” he shouted over his shoulder, heading to find his cell phone.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

He popped back in the kitchen, peering around the corner. “Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes again. This was absurd. But she had to admit, she did kind of like the idea of breaking the mold, of doing something different.

They’d been married for years, had gone through all the ruts of typical married life. But they weren’t bored. They weren’t getting stagnant. Tim was making sure of that. They were still spontaneous, still a bit crazy.

They were crazy enough to head to Ocean City, Maryland, for Thanksgiving, to abandon their families and risk sheer chaos in order to get a romantic getaway alone. It was odd, probably not the wisest choice—the beach in prewinter. Who the hell did that? But it was them.

As long as she was with him, she didn’t care if she was in Antarctica or Area 51.

That Thanksgiving, they snuggled in the whipping wind and thirty-eight-degree weather on a beach towel, Tim insisting he would feel sand between his toes. They snuggled together, nothing sexy or romantic happening because they were too damn cold to take off any layers of clothes. They listened to the rush of the ocean, smelled the salty air, and shared a sub from a shop a block back.

“This is the weirdest Thanksgiving I’ve ever had,” she confessed, her face snuggled against his stubbly chin, her cheeks rubbing raw.

“Weird but good. I’m glad we have this life, Sophia. I’m happy to be on the beach, alone, with you. I love you.”

She leaned in for a kiss, her hood up, her hair whipping around. They kissed for a long moment, realizing how lucky they were to have each other.

Life wasn’t perfect. Their families probably were still complaining about their absurd, semi-selfish idea to escape to the beach on a holiday. She didn’t care. Sitting here, freezing her ass off, with the man she loved beside her was perfect.

They were the only two fools on the beach, no one else dumb enough to brave the cold. But she didn’t feel lonely. She felt content, at home. They might not have children, they might not have the typical life, but she loved that. She loved how Tim made her want to go to their summer vacation spot in November, how he forced her to put her toes in the sand even though she was freezing. He made her life exciting and full. He made her see things, made her live.

“Maybe next year, we’ll go to a beach closer to the equator, what do you think?”

“Yeah, in hindsight, that probably would’ve been smarter.”

“There’s always next year,” Tim said, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

After a few moments, they picked up their sandy blanket, huddled together, and hurried back to the hotel, the hot tub, and some room service turkey calling their names.

_______________

Stopping at the gas station about an hour into her trip home, she stumbled inside to get a coffee, to perk herself back up. She felt drained from the day, from driving, from her memories.

“I wish we were snuggled on a beach towel, Tim. I’d give anything to freeze my ass off again,” she said aloud as she poured her coffee. A guy beside her gave her a glance. She felt her cheeks warm.

She was turning into that lady, the lady who mumbled to herself in convenience stores. If they knew, if they could read her heart right now, understand the pain suffocating it, they would know talking out loud was the least of her problems.

She had to keep trudging forward. Moving back in with her parents wasn’t the answer. Abandoning her life wasn’t the answer. She had to find a way to keep on, even if she didn’t know how. Tim would want that. He’d want her to find her own beach trip, to find her own seashells, to find her own sunshine when the cold threatened to roll in.

JACKSON

O
nce, Christmas had been one of Jackson’s favorite seasons. The smell of nutmeg, the promise of Santa, the collection of family by the tree, by the fireplace. It was a magical season when anything was possible.

Then his brother, Wade, died.

Then he went into the army.

Then his wife left him.

Then he lost his son.

Over the years, December became more of a gloomy, black month than a season of joy. Jackson felt more like an adherent to Krampus’s camp than Santa’s. He felt void, empty, nothingness instead of holiday warmth.

Especially this year.

“It’s not your holiday,” Chloe had argued on the phone just last week when Jackson called to make arrangements for Christmas.

“Chloe, come on, it’s Christmas. I don’t even have to take him. Can I just come to your house for a few hours? Give him presents?”

“Mail them. I’ll tell him they’re from you, or give them to him on your next weekend. The court gave you Easter. I got Christmas. That was the deal.”

“Please don’t do this.”

She had hung up, the click of the phone echoing in the silence. He’d been infuriated, heartbroken, angry, and depressed all within a single moment.

Jackson glanced around his apartment, the sheer blankness of the room only enhancing his non-holiday spirit. There was no tree, no cookies in the oven. Nothing to symbolize the season. Without Logan, what was the point? A part of him knew he was being childish. Logan was young. He wouldn’t care if they celebrated Christmas a few weeks afterward. To Jackson, though, it was a reminder that things had changed, that he would be forever settling for any time he could get with his son. It wouldn’t be the same, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it would. It would never be the same unless he had Logan back with him, at least joint custody.

He would go to his parents’ house for Christmas morning. Gretta, Jonathan, and Jace would be there, too. He would pretend to conjure up some merriness for a few hours before returning home to wallow in loathing, pity, and hurt at the absence of his son.

His son’s Christmas would now be devoid of him. How many more until Logan had forgotten all about him? How many more until Logan was asking to cancel their weekend together?

He’d confided as much in Jonathan who had comforted him, trying to make him see reason. “Jackson, buddy, hang in there. Give it a few more months. Get yourself established. Show the courts you’ve settled yourself. We can appeal the decision, fight for joint custody. This isn’t forever. Decisions can be reversed. Just give it time.”

At the time, Jackson had nodded despite his inner rage. Time? He didn’t have time. Every month that went by without Logan was like an inferno of sorrow. Every month without his son was a step closer to oblivion in his son’s life. Every month was one step closer to Seth taking over his place.

On Christmas Eve, after a depressing phone call with Logan about Santa, Jackson found himself flipping aimlessly through Christmas movies, not really paying attention. He found himself thinking about previous years, good and bad, previous Christmases. There had been many characters in his Christmas scenes, but Tim had been a constant.

He thought back to another depressing Christmas when Tim had been there for him.

_______________

“You know, Jackson, you don’t have to do this. You’re an adult. He doesn’t make decisions for you.” Tim sat beside Jackson on the sofa in Tim’s parents’ garage, their typical hangout. It was Christmas Eve, and they had just exchanged gifts. Jackson opened the new video game, pretending to be interested in the back.

“I know. But he’s right. It’s not like my life’s going anywhere else. Construction work is good, but it’s not what I had in mind.”

“What about culinary school? You’ve always loved cooking.”

“There’s no money in it.”

“It’s not all about money, you know.”

Jackson eyed him. “You’re going to be a lawyer, and their paychecks aren’t half bad from what I’ve heard.”

“You got me there. But I’ve always wanted a law degree. It’s not something my dad forced me into.”

“It’s not like my dad’s holding a gun to my head.”

“No. It’s kind of worse. I know this isn’t what you want.”

When graduation had come two years ago, Jackson had felt elated with possibility. Everyone was heading off to achieve their dreams, Tim included. He hadn’t quite pinned down what he wanted to do.

But his father had.

When he casually mentioned culinary school, Louis Gauge had shut down the idea. “That’s not a man’s job. I’ll not support that.”

“Dad, why? It’s what I love.”

“The military. That’s where it’s at.”

Jackson had put off joining, had given up on his dreams of culinary. He’d gone off to a construction job, a manly job, and worked for the past two years.