She got up, and after putting Scottie on a leash, she moved slowly to the door.
It was time. Tru picked up her suitcase, along with the box of mementos she’d collected earlier in the week. He followed her out the front door, pausing beside her as she locked the door and inhaling the wildflower scent of the shampoo she used.
He loaded her things into the trunk while she put Scottie in the back seat. After closing the doors, she approached him slowly. He held her again, neither of them able to speak. When finally she pulled back, he tried a smile, even though everything was breaking inside.
“If you ever plan on taking a safari, make sure you let me know. I can tell you which lodges you should visit. It doesn’t have to be in Zimbabwe. I have contacts all over the region. You can always reach me through the lodge at Hwange.”
“All right,” she said in an unsteady voice.
“And if you just want to talk or see me, I’ll make that happen. Airlines make the world a much smaller place. If you need me, I’ll come. All right?”
She nodded, unable to meet his eyes as she adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. He wanted to beg her to come with him; he wanted to tell her that a love like theirs would never be replicated. He could feel the words forming, but they stayed inside him.
He kissed her, softly, gently, one last time, then opened the door for her. When she was behind the wheel, he pushed the door shut, his hopes and dreams shattering at the sound. He heard the engine fire up and saw her roll down the window.
She reached out, taking his hand in hers.
“I’ll never forget you,” she said. And then all at once, she let go. She put the car in reverse and began to back out of the driveway. Tru followed as if in a trance.
A ray of sunlight broke from the clouds, illuminating her car like a spotlight as it finally started rolling forward. Away from him. She didn’t glance in his direction. He continued to follow, drawn into the street.
By then, her car was already growing smaller in the distance. It was fifty yards away, then even more, her image no longer visible through the rear window, but Tru continued to watch it. He felt hollowed out, a hull.
The brake lights flashed once, and then suddenly steadied, glowing red. The car came to a halt, and he saw the driver’s-side door open. Hope stepped out and turned to face him. She seemed so far away and when she blew him a final, tender kiss, he couldn’t bring himself to return the gesture. She waited for a moment, then got back in the car, the door closing behind her. The car started rolling forward again.
“Come back to me,” he whispered, watching as she reached the corner that led to the main road off the island.
But she couldn’t hear him. Ahead of him, the car slowed but didn’t stop. No longer able to watch, Tru bent over double, his hands on his knees. Beneath him, the asphalt bore the inkblot stain of his tears.
When he looked up again, the car had vanished completely and the road was deserted.
AFTERMATH
Hope would never remember the drive back to Raleigh. Nor would she remember much about her lunch with Josh that Sunday afternoon. He had called her numerous times since the wedding, leaving messages at her apartment, begging her to meet him. Reluctantly, she agreed to meet him at a local café, but while Josh was talking to her across the table, all she could think about was the way Tru had stood in the road, watching her go. Abruptly, she told Josh that she needed a few days to think about things and left the restaurant before the food even arrived, feeling his stunned gaze on her as she hurried out.
He appeared at her apartment a few hours later and they spoke on her doorstep. He apologized again, Hope managing to mask her turmoil. After agreeing to meet with him on Thursday, she closed the door and leaned against it, utterly spent. She lay on the sofa in her living room, intending to doze for a short while, but somehow slept until the following morning. Her first thought upon waking was that Tru was already on his way back to Zimbabwe, the gulf between them increasing by the minute.
It was all she could do to function at work. She moved on autopilot, and with the exception of a teenage girl who’d been in a horrific car accident, she remembered none of the patients. If the other nurses noticed how detached she seemed to be, they didn’t say anything.
On Wednesday, she planned to visit her parents after work. Her mom had left a message on her answering machine a couple of days earlier saying that she’d be making stew, and Hope decided to pick up a blueberry pie from a local bakery on her way over. The only problem was that the bakery only accepted cash, and in her daze of the last few days, she’d forgotten to go to the bank. Remembering that she kept some money in the glove compartment for emergencies, she returned to the car and opened it up. As she rummaged for the cash, she knocked some of the contents to the floor, and it was only while cleaning up that she recognized the drawing of herself that Tru had completed.
Seeing it in the car took her breath away. She knew he must have placed it in her glove compartment the morning she’d left. She stared at the image, her hands beginning to tremble, before remembering that she still had to pay for the pie. She carefully set the drawing on the passenger seat, then hurried back inside to complete her purchase.
Back in the car, she didn’t start the ignition. Instead, she reached for the drawing again. Examining the image of herself, she recognized a woman hopelessly in love with the man who’d drawn her, and she felt an intense longing to be held by him just one more time. She wanted to breathe in the scent of him, feel the coarse scratch of his stubble, stare into the face of the man who intuitively understood her in a way that no one ever had before. To be with the man who’d stolen her heart.
Lowering it to her lap, she noticed another sheet of drawing paper in the open glove compartment. It was carefully folded; on top of it lay an envelope with her name on it. She picked them up with shaking hands.
Unfolding the drawing first, she saw the two of them standing on the beach, gazing at each other in profile. The sight left her breathless, and she was only vaguely aware that a car had pulled into the spot next to her, the radio blaring. She stared at the image of Tru, flooded with longing. She forced herself to put it aside.
The envelope felt heavy in her hands. She didn’t want to open it, not here. She should wait until later, when she was back at her place, when she was alone.
But the letter was calling to her, and lifting the seal, she pulled it out and began to read.
Dear Hope,
I’m not sure whether you want to read this, but in my confusion, I am grasping at straws. Along with this letter, you’ll find two drawings. Maybe you’ve already seen them. You might recognize the first one. I worked on the second one while you were at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. I have a feeling that I’ll complete more drawings of you when I get home, but I’d like to keep those, if it’s all right with you. If not, please let me know. I can either send them to you, or dispose of them, and will not attempt another one. I hope that you believe that I am, and will always be, someone that you can trust.
I want you to know that while imagining a life without you is unbearable, I understand your reasons. I saw your radiant expression when you spoke of having children, and I will never forget it. I know how agonizing this choice has been for you. It’s been devastating for me, but I can’t find it in my heart to blame you. After all, I have a son, and I can’t imagine life without him.