Proving Paul's Promise(60)

“Mine’s blond,” I say. “She’ll stick out in your crowd.” For now at least.

“Oh, good to know. Maybe we’ll feed that one.” Sky looks at Matt and nods. “Look for the one with yellow hair. Feed it. We got this.” She claps her hands together like she’s coaching a team.

I laugh. They’re just too damn cute together.

I kiss Hayley, show her Sky’s belly, and take a minute to feel for double kicks myself, and then I leave. I go by the shop, but Friday’s not there. I go to the apartment, but she’s not there, either. I stop in her doorway and look around her room, startled at the lack of her things on the dresser. She did have makeup and other oddities there, but now there’s nothing. I go to the closet and open the door. Her suitcase is gone. I slam my fist against the wall, feeling like someone just kicked me in the gut.

She’s gone. Completely and totally gone.

I call all my brothers, and no one has seen her. I call all their girlfriends and wives, and they haven’t seen her. I call Garrett and Cody, and they haven’t seen her, either, but now they’re worried. So are my brothers. They want to go out looking for her, each of us taking a different part of the city. But there’s one thing I know for sure. She won’t turn up until she wants to be found. No doubt about it.





Friday

I roll my suitcase right into the cemetery. I know it’s weird and I don’t know where I’m going after this, but I couldn’t wait one more minute to come here. I know he’s here, but I don’t know where. I have to stop at the office, which is a little building surrounded by flowers. I open the door and step inside. It’s cool in there, which is nice. A lady looks from me to my suitcase and back. “I’m sorry, but you can’t move in if you’re still breathing, and you’re definitely still breathing,” she says. She snaps her gum at me, and I like her immediately.

“I need to find a grave, and I’m not sure where to look.” I step nervously from side to side and have to force myself to stand still when I realize it.

She goes to her computer. “Do you have a name?”

I nod. The name is sitting there, right on the tip of my tongue.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?” She waits.

“His name is Travis Conway.” That’s the first time I have said that name in a really long time.

“Are you a relative?”

“Does it matter?”

She smiles. “No, I was just being nosy.”

She jots something down and walks over to me. She pulls out a map and draws lines and arrows around the cemetery so that I can find the plot. “If you have any trouble, just let me know.”

“Thanks.”

“You can leave that here if you want.” She looks at my suitcase.

I unzip it and take out my shoebox. “You sure you don’t mind?”

She pulls it behind her desk and I feel like it’ll be safe. I walk out of the office with my shoebox under my arm and the map in my other hand. I open it up and follow the arrows. It’s actually a pretty long walk, and then I realize that he had a state-funded funeral, so he’s in a crowded section. He doesn’t even have a headstone. He has a little piece of weathered plastic poking into the ground with stick-on letters.

I walk over and sit down beside his little piece of poor plastic. “Hey, Trav,” I say softly. The wind blows and lifts my hair, and I close my eyes. He had this thing he would do when times were good: he would walk behind me and lift my hair and place a tender kiss on the nape of my neck. It was sweet and kind and made me feel so loved.

It’s easy to think that he’s letting me know he’s still here, but it’s probably just the wind. I know that. It’s the most basic human need—self-comfort. I want to think he’s there and safe. So I do.

“I brought something to show you,” I say. I open my box and take out the pictures I have looked at so fondly through the years. My heart clenches as I shuffle through them, looking at them like I have never seen them before. “He’s so beautiful,” I whisper, and my voice cracks. “We did something so right, Trav.” I look toward the sky and wait. Then the wind picks up my hair again, and this time the hair on my arms stands up.

“I met him today. I didn’t even know it was going to happen. I went to the park with my boyfriend, and he had orchestrated this whole meet-and-greet with our son. My boyfriend’s name is Paul, and he’s pretty fabulous. He has a daughter and a family he loves more than anything.” I take a breath. “Anyway,” I say, “I met our son today. And he looks a lot like you. I can see your smile in him and your sense of humor. He snorts when he laughs kind of like you did.”

I drag my finger down the edge of the plastic sign and wish it didn’t have to be this way.

“I’m sorry I never came when you died. I read about it in the paper. I don’t even know if you were in pain or if it just happened and, poof, you were gone. I guess that’s a good thing. They say the truth is better than not knowing, but sometimes I think not knowing trumps it. It lets you believe what you want. And I choose to believe you’re at peace. Does that make me naive? It probably does. But I don’t care. No matter what, you’re not here anymore, and that’s just a tragedy all by itself.”

The wind stirs again my hair lifts.