Part of Your World(93)

I didn’t laugh anymore. I didn’t want to see anyone. Doug and Brian circled me constantly, but I was a bear to be around. I felt bad about it, so I stopped answering the door when they came over.

The only good thing that had happened since Alexis left me was that I’d raised the money for the house. The sale had just been finalized two days ago.

I’d put up the last of my custom pieces for twice what Alexis had charged her friends. Three times as much, four times as much. Because I didn’t care. I didn’t care if people bought them. I didn’t care if they didn’t. I didn’t even care if I saved the house. And the funny thing was, the higher I priced them, the more people seemed to want them. They just paid it. So I raised the money and became a successful carpenter overnight, a homeowner. And the victory was so hollow, I didn’t even care that I’d done it, because I didn’t want any of it without her.

She was the one. I’d had four months to make her know it too, and I’d failed. Now I would live with that failure for the rest of my life.

I didn’t need to keep running Grant House as a B & B, now that I was making so much with my carpentry. And that was good, because I couldn’t stand to step foot in it. Not without her. I couldn’t look at the snow-covered landscape on the stained glass on the landing or the roses on the banister or the mosaic around the fireplace because it was where I’d fallen in love with her, and that was so painful for me now, I couldn’t lay my eyes on it. So I shut the house down and left it vacant.

I was driving by Doug’s place with Hunter on the way back from hauling some stuff to the dump and decided to stop. I knew if I didn’t make at least a few appearances, they’d never lay off me. I didn’t tell him I was coming. Just sat on his porch until he saw my truck outside.

I heard the screen door slam, and a second later Doug was handing me a can of Coke.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking it.

It was so humid you could’ve cut the air with a knife.

Doug sat down in the rocking chair next to me and opened his soda with a pith. “Don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

I didn’t answer.

It had been pouring every day since Alexis left. It had been so miserable the town was almost empty of tourists. Couldn’t use the bike trail or the river, couldn’t walk around. All the weekenders had canceled. Even when it stopped, it didn’t really stop. The sun never came out, nothing was ever dry. Then it would start again, like there was no limit to how much water could fall from the sky.

Hunter sat at my feet, his head on his paws. My dog had been good ever since Alexis had left. Like he knew I couldn’t deal with his shit right now—or he was too sad to give me any. At home he kept staring at the driveway, waiting. Every time I tried to bring him in, he’d fight the leash. So I just left him out there.

“Did you eat today?” Doug asked.

I’d been losing weight. No appetite. He probably noticed it more than I did, not seeing me every day like he used to.

It was a moment before I gave him a slow head shake.

“You gotta eat, man. You get hungry, and you’re gonna feel worse.”

“Nothing can make me feel worse,” I said, my voice rough. I was mortally wounded. A sandwich wasn’t going to save me.

He didn’t answer. He just procured a granola bar from somewhere and handed it to me. I took it slowly and just stared at it in my hand.

“This hurts so much,” I said. “I can’t breathe without her. I just want it to stop.”

Doug peered out into the yard. “Maybe it’s not meant to stop. Maybe this is supposed to make you strong.”

“It’s not making me strong. It’s killing me.”

He just looked out over the pastures. We went quiet for a few moments.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

He turned to look at me. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I can’t be in this place without her. I can’t breathe here.”

Thunder rumbled overhead.

“But…you can’t leave, man. What the hell are you gonna do somewhere else?”

I shrugged. The same thing I did here. I’d miss her. That’s what I’d do. But at least then I’d be missing her in a place that didn’t remind me of her every second.

It was amazing that one season of someone could paint over a lifetime. This wasn’t the place I grew up in anymore. It wasn’t my home. It was just the last place I was with her. And why would I want to remember that?

A sharp gust cut through the property, and a bucket rolled across the yard. We watched it bounce like a white tumbleweed and then disappear behind the barn.

“I wasn’t what she needed,” I said so quietly I didn’t think he heard me.

“Yeah, you were,” Doug said. “She’s just got other shit going on, shit that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

I shook my head. “Yes, it does. She was embarrassed of me. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t worth the trade-off.”

“You know what?” Doug said from next to me. “She loved you. I don’t care what you think. I saw it. Everyone did.”

I stayed quiet. She did love me. I knew that. I believed that. But what does love matter when it can’t outweigh the rest of it?