My Favorite Souvenir(88)

I forced a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

My dad came over later in the day, and we managed to have a quiet, but nice Christmas. When my parents left, I thought a lot more about what my mother said. I’d been calling Hazel nonstop just so I could hear her voice, which was selfish and only going to make me feel better. So I decided to stop, to let her have the space she needed. Though before I did that, I wanted her to know that my lack of contact wouldn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about her. So I composed a text:



Hazel, I’m sorry you’re hurting right now. I’m even more sorry that something I’ve done has contributed to that pain. I know you need some space, so I’m going to give that to you. But please know, not a moment of the day goes by when you’re not in my thoughts. I’d hoped to tell you this in person, but if it’s going to be the last thing I get to say to you for a while, I need to say it now. I love you, Hazel. I think I have since the first moment I laid eyes on you. When I look back, I’m not sure how I lived for so long without you in my life. But then I remember, I hadn’t really been living until you made my heart beat again.



I was surprised when a few minutes later my phone buzzed. Seeing Hazel’s name light up on the screen made me feel more hope than I had in days. But then I read her text:



Thank you. Take care of yourself, Matteo.



And whatever morsel of hope had bloomed inside of me instantly wilted. Her message sounded a hell of a lot more like goodbye than just needing a little space.





Chapter 31




* * *



Matteo



Seven weeks later



I arrived a day early.

The last seven weeks had felt more like seven years. Each day, I got out of bed and went through the motions, but it didn’t really feel like I was living. Thank God my leave of absence was over, and I’d had to go back to work. Otherwise I’d have a Vitamin D deficiency from lack of sunlight. I really hated to compare anything to do with Zoe to my situation with Hazel, but the way this was hitting me might’ve been worse than what I went through after I lost Zoe. That sounds crazy, I know. And in a lot of ways it felt disrespectful to Zoe to even think that. But when she died, I had no choice but to accept that she was gone, and I had to move on. That didn’t mean I wanted to find a new girlfriend or anything. Yet after the shock wore off, I accepted that she was gone from my life forever. What had happened was a cold, hard fact that I couldn’t change.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to accept it was over with Hazel, knowing she and I were still breathing the same air.

But for the last seven weeks, every day that went by that I hadn’t heard from her made me feel like the chances things would work out in the end were dwindling.

Sitting in my hotel room, the same exact room Hazel and I had shared only a few months ago, wondering if she would show up tomorrow, was making me stir crazy. So I decided to take a walk. Bourbon Street always had some action. I needed a distraction, even if just for a little while.

I walked past the little restaurant where Hazel and I had shared jambalaya. Every step I took away from it made my feet feel heavy. It was as if I was trudging along, wearing ten-pound weights on each foot. I passed a bar where we’d shared drinks, then the open mic place where I sang while looking at her beautiful face in the audience. This damn walk was supposed to help me clear my head, but it was doing anything but.

When I came upon a storefront I’d completely forgotten about, I stopped in my tracks. Psychic and Chakra Balancing. How the hell could I have not remembered this place? Zara had given me a message from Zoe. And she’d also told Hazel she saw a big conflict with a person whose name began with M. At the time, Hazel and I were Milo and Maddie and we’d had no clue about the big conflict we were about to be smacked in the face with.

I couldn’t resist going in to see if Zara was around. The small, front reception room was empty. A dark purple, velvet curtain separated the adjoining room where I knew she did readings. So I stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt if she was with someone else. After a minute or two of silence, a familiar voice spoke from the other room.

“It’s about time you came back.”

I assumed she was speaking to whoever was in the room with her, so I said nothing. But when I didn’t respond, a minute later, the voice yelled, “Come on, what are you waiting for? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

My forehead wrinkled. “Uhhh… Are you talking to me?”

“Well, I’m not talking to myself. I’m a psychic, not a loony tune.”

I pulled back the heavy curtain and found Zara sitting at her table alone. She waved at me impatiently. “Come on, come on. Let’s get this show on the road. You didn’t bring your little chickadee this time, huh?”

I sat down hesitantly, confused. “You remember me?”

“Mostly I get drunks who smell like day-old beer and girls who want to know if they’re going to find Mr. Right flashing their tits on Bourbon Street. I don’t get many coming in who look like you.”

I smiled—a rarity these days. “Thank you. You did such a great job last time I was here, I guess I was kind of hoping you could help me out again.”

Zara extended her hand, palm up. “Of course. That’ll be forty bucks, please.”