“Right.” Hadn’t I already said that?
“But I don’t want him to worry. I feel confident this house is going to show well, and once we get this property on the market, I don’t expect it to stay on the market long. Can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to keep this place,” he said incredulously as he looked around again. “Though…” He looked back at me once more. “…if his heart is set on leaving us here in Hazleton again, I suppose he’s prepared to part with it and everything else our lovely town has to offer. Right?”
I looked down at the floor, staring at the spot between us. “Yes. I suppose that’s right.” I held my hand out finally. “I’ll see to it he gets the documents.”
I took the folder from Sam, and then I followed him to the door.
“Really is great to see you again, Helene. Tell Kane I’m sorry I missed him, but he’s doing a wonderful job on the renovations. I look forward to speaking with him soon.”
I nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
I forced a very pathetic smile to my lips, and Sam’s brow flinched when he saw it. He dismissed it quickly though. “Have a great afternoon, Helene.”
“You too.”
And then I shut the door. I had no idea how long I stood there staring at the floor, but I eventually stumbled over to a canvas folding chair that was sitting by the fireplace. I sank into the seat, and I held the folder on my lap.
When I opened the folder, I found a stapled bunch of papers. They were partially completed in Kane’s handwriting, and they were dated a little less than two weeks prior. I reviewed each page, looking for some clue, any clue, as to why he’d filled them out. My heart raced as I flipped the pages one at a time. On one particular page the applicant had to write in the reason for completing the absent seller forms. He’d written in, “I won’t be living in Hazleton when the property is listed, nor will I be residing within close proximity to Hazleton. I will also not be easily reached by phone.”
On section five, the section Sam had referred to, Kane had put a sticky note on the page. “I won’t be in town, but I don’t yet know where my physical location will be. I’ll complete this section at a later date. I also don’t know what phone number can be used to get a message to me as of yet.”
Sam had written a response. “Please complete this section and return to me as soon as you’re able—not later than when we list the house.”
I finally closed the document placing it back in the folder, and then I stared some more. I contemplated leaving. I contemplated calling him. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there in a stupor contemplating everything there was to contemplate over and over and over again.
My life with Kane was slipping away again, and no matter how hard I tried to keep the panic from taking over, and no matter how hard I tried to rationalize what I was seeing and tell myself something had changed for Kane since he’d filled this out, I couldn’t get those thoughts to stick.
He’d filled out the document less than two weeks before.
When I heard his dad’s truck pull up, I was still staring at nothing and my brain was still spinning. It was as if every ounce of energy I possessed was being directed to the anxiety coursing through my body, and the rest of me could barely move as a result. I was paralyzed by it.
I stared at the door, waiting for it to open, and as it did, I held my breath. Kane looked at me as he stepped in, and he smiled. That smile fell two seconds later.
“Hell? Are you—”
“Sam Clausen stopped by,” I said as I stood. My voice sounded oddly flat given just how much I was screaming inside my head.
“Yeah. He’s going to list the house—”
“He’d really like you to finish the absent seller documents. He needs to know where you’re going to be moving for the paperwork and what phone number can best be used to get a message to you. Seeing as I clearly have no idea, I really wasn’t able to help him.”
Kane’s lips parted subtly, and a quiet huff of breath escaped his lips. He stared at me, his eyes wide, and when he tried to swallow, it seemed to stick—the lump never fully going down.
“I can’t…” I shook my head, and my lips tried to form words, opening and closing like a dying fish over and over as I stood there. “Are you leaving?” I finally spit the words out in a rush.
He only stared at me, and I knew… He was leaving.
“Oh, God,” I gasped out before he even had a chance to respond. My fingers clutched at my stomach as bile rose up in the back of my throat.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to…”
He didn’t say the word that was supposed to follow that sentence, so I did for him. “But,” I bit out angrily.