Where One Goes(76)

I smile as I stare at her for the last time.

“Good-bye, Charlotte,” I whisper, and morph away.



I’m at our place by the water, watching the sun glisten on the water’s surface. Fall is in full effect and I smile slightly. This is my favorite time of year. The pull is so strong, I know if I don’t focus, it will take me at any moment. But I want one more minute. Just one. Turning, I walk back to the giant tree, wishing I could leave Charlotte a little piece of me; a tangible memory she could see and touch. When I look up, I stand frozen in shock. Carved in the tree, in bold letters is I & C inside of a big heart. For a moment I just stare, wishing I could go back to tell her what it means to me. But that’s not an option now.

“It’s time,” I remind myself as I step closer to the tree and rest my hand over our initials. With one last look at the water, and my hand on the tree, I close my eyes and let the pull take me.

I finally just let go.





Grief. What a horrid thing it is, yet I hold tightly to it. The agony I feel is how I remember he was here, that he existed. Sweet, beautiful Ike—he always had a smile on his face. The morning Ike leaves me, my father shows up. When I refuse to leave, he takes pity on me or decides it’s not worth arguing with me, and pays my motel bill for the remainder of the month, shocking the hell out of me. For a brief and beautiful moment, I think maybe he’s come to terms and realized my gift is real, but he obliterates that notion when he informs me Detective Andrews had requested I stay, even though, technically, I didn’t have to. Then, to really hammer the nail in my coffin, he tells me he’ll return with my mother in a few weeks.

Later that day, Sniper shows up and holds me as I sob. I’m a wicked mess, but he doesn’t mention it. He simply tells me Ike would want me to be happy, and I know he’s right.

When he finally stands to leave, he says, “I’m not sure if this is the best timing or not, but George asked me to give this to you.” He lays an envelope on the bed beside where I’m sitting. I don’t remember saying good-bye to him or him leaving, but when I look up, Sniper is gone. It must be a good-bye letter from George is all I can think. Maybe it was too hard for him to face me. Maybe he’s worried I’ll go crazy if he says it to my face. I’m not sure what he has to say to me, but I hope he’s at least kind. My feelings for him haven’t changed, and if his letter is a full rejection, I fear I won’t be able to handle it.

It’s an hour or so before I can bring myself to open the letter. The envelope is thick and I can tell there’s more inside of it than just a letter. My hands are trembling as I tear the envelope open and see what’s inside. In addition to the letter are dog tags. Something feels as if it’s lodged in my throat as I gently pull out the chain with the two small tags attached.



Clutching the tags to my chest, I fall back on my bed and wail. I’ll never forget the sound of his tags jingling under his shirt as he moved around. Is George giving these to me? I weep for what seems an endless amount of time before I’m able to sit up again. Finally, I manage to unfold the piece of paper that was also in the envelope, and hold my breath, bracing myself for the worst.

Dear Charlotte,

Forgive me for writing you this letter instead of talking to you face-to-face, but to be honest, I’m not exactly proud of how I’ve behaved around you the last few times we’ve seen each other. I told you the man you met when you first came here isn’t really me. And that’s true. The real me isn’t the kind of man to get hooked on drugs and sleep with loose women, and I hate that that’s your first impression of me.

I also told you I want to be the kind of man you deserve and is worthy of your high opinion. That’s also true. But telling you who I really am and showing you are very different things. So I’m going to rehab, Charlotte. I’m going to get clean and get my head straight. I know I haven’t given you much reason to have faith in me, but I hope you’ll wait for me. I hope you’ll stay and give me the chance to prove myself to you.

If not, I understand. I’ve given you plenty of reasons to leave. But know this, Charlotte . . . When you told me you loved me the other night, something changed inside me. You marked me, and I’ll never be able to let that go or forget it. Please know I’ll do anything to be deserving of that love if you’ll give me the chance.

I’ll be back in thirty days. You still have a job, too. I’ve worked it out with Sniper. Please be safe and no matter what you decide, Charlotte, please be happy.

Enclosed you’ll find Ike’s dog tags. Since you gave me something treasured from your brother, it’s only fair I do the same. I know he would’ve wanted you to have them.

~George

Returning the letter to its envelope, I lie back down and cry.





I’ve been gone thirty days. Not a lot of time, but it felt like an eternity. Now, I finally get to go home and face the real world again. I’m f*cking nervous as hell. Anxiety has taken over because I know I have to look everyone I love in the eye and face what I’ve done. I know my family will forgive me; Sniper, too. But it’s her I’m most worried about. Can she really forgive me for the way I’ve behaved? I’ve been a colossal dick, a sentiment confirmed by Sniper more times than I care to count. I’ve spent the last month digging up the bones of my past and facing them, but behind all of the shit, I had to figure out the millions of things I had to learn to forgive myself for. The one thing I know for sure is I need her. Hell, I love her. I’ve just been too much of a chickenshit to tell her. I crave Charlotte like if she were my next breath. She’s been there in spirit the entire time, telling me, I don’t want to lose you, too. Rehab was a bitch to get through. The shakes and night sweats I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But I’d made a promise to my brother, and damn it, I intend to keep it. He deserves that much from me. I’m lucky I made it out of my self-deprecating hell. It’s a damn shame my anger has kept me away from her for this long—from accepting her for who she is. But through it all, I never stopped wanting her.