“Hey, man.” He squints painfully at me. “It’ll be okay.”
“How?” I ask, because I’d like to know in what fucking universe it’s going to be okay if she’s not with me.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. At least he’s fucking honest.
“Want me to come by tonight? We can hang out for a bit?” I shake my head, not needing any more pity than I’m already putting on myself.
“Nah, I’m good.” I am not good.
I’m surprised Coach hasn’t called me into his office yet, but I suppose he’s giving me a bit more leeway than I deserve. I have to get my shit together.
Callahan just pats my shoulder, feeds me that tight-lipped, pathetic, sad smile, and walks off.
I finish getting dressed and walk out of the locker room. I avoid any areas with scroungy reporters, even though I know they are here to talk to me about the new contract. But I’m just not ready to talk about how excited I am to be here, to stay here, when I feel like my soul is on the other side of the country.
By an act of Congress, I’m able to get in my truck and back to the condo without being detected, and when I walk into the lobby, Arthur greets me with his same bubbly, professional smile.
At least his voice isn’t dripping with pity.
“Good evening, Mr. Byrnes. This came for you today, sir.” Iglance up and my heart drops when I see him holding the manila envelope I gave to Ember yesterday.
My feet stop moving as I stand in place, staring at the envelope like a ticking time bomb. If I don’t reach out and grab it, does it really exist?
But I do, and it feels substantially heavier than it did yesterday. Like paper bricks weighing heaviest on my heart, and I would rather just burn these fucking papers and pretend they never existed.
“Thanks, Arthur,” is all I can muster as I continue to the elevator.
Getting up to the apartment feels like an eternity, because the last thing I want to do is walk into an empty home, especially after she’s wiped herself clean of it.
Maybe I should move. Everything is too fresh. Too much. And when I walk into the vast space of nothing, it still fucking smells like her.
Tropical sunset and citrus. I close my eyes and take a deep breath because pretty soon that’ll fade, adding additional torment, because as much as I want this scent every day, it’ll drive me insane to keep it.
Placing my keys and wallet on the side table, I kick off my shoes a little aggressively before padding to the kitchen. I reach in the fridge and grab a beer, probably one of many, which just adds to my pain and suffering, knowing I don’t want to lean on alcohol but need something to take the edge off.
I daydream of tossing the manila envelope off the balcony and watching the papers fly into the wind, but instead, I uncontrollably scream, “Fuck!” and throw it against the side wall.
It lands with an odd thud. It should have fluttered loosely to the ground. It landed like it holds an imbalance of weight and there’s a rock on one side.
I glare over at it, wondering if it actually might be a ticking time bomb, and walk up to it slowly, like it might be.
I squat down, picking it up, and pinch the metal tabs upright to open the flap. Sure enough, there are papers in there, but there’s something else at the bottom. I turn it upside down and hold my hand out to catch what’s sliding out.
A Big Red gum pack lands haphazardly in my palm. I shake my head as I stand up and place the envelope on the table. The gum pack is beat up, weathered on the sides, and the flap is bent in a few places.
Squinting, I flip it over once, then again, and open the flap. Mini Tic Tac Toe games align the inside flap, the ones from the flight we met on. Everything is identical to that first day we met, with the exception of three little words on the bottom right. They’re not the same three words I said to her before she left.
Hers are even better.
“I choose you.”
Smiling but confused, I flip over the gum pack again for some other hidden message. I tear out the gum pieces that are stiff as metal and stale as day old popcorn—still nothing.
Pulling out the divorce papers that I nauseously, and reluctantly, signed two days ago, with my heart beating out of my chest, I inspect her signature lines, but they remain unsigned. Instead, they now have big large red X’s over the top of them.
A chuckle pumps out of my chest, and happiness radiates every crevice of my body.
I close my eyes and tip my head back, smiling ear to ear, practically hearing those words leaving her lips.
