You are my rock, Sadie. You are my safe place in an unsafe world. My heart finds sanctuary in you. It always has. It always will.
You are my purpose in life and I am a lucky man to have made you my wife. Please know that no matter what life may bring us, my goal has always been to see you smile. No matter the cost, your smile is worth it. So promise me that you’ll smile. That you will laugh. That you won’t take life too seriously. That you’ll have babies if we don’t have the chance to. That you’ll invest in your work and in yourself even if the world seems like it won’t. You’ll win them over—you always do. Promise me that you will do your best to show everyone you meet how big your heart is and how tender your touch can be.
Promise me that you’ll allow yourself to be happy. You’re stubborn. No one knows that better than me, so I beg you to promise me that you’ll find love again. When the right one comes along, you’ll know, just like I knew you were the one. Don’t be afraid. Let him in. Let him have all of you. If not for you, do it for me. Know that you are never alone. Not now. Not ever. I’m beside you. I’ll always find a way to be with you, Sadie. I’ll come back to you. Somehow, I’ll be around.
Promise me these things even if they seem impossible. Even if it hurts. It’s all I ask of you. It’s all I could ever want, to know that the love of my life is happy.
All my love,
Jake
“I-I promise. I promise, Jake.” I bury my face in the now crumpled notebook paper and cry softly into my husband’s sweet words with renewed determination to do what I set out to do.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Messages
Zander
July 3, 2013
I tug the door on my mailbox open, noting that the hinges could use some oil. It’s just something else to keep me busy and my mind off of Sadie. I lean forward to look inside the box, expecting junk mail and maybe a few bank statements. The sight of a brown paper package has me scrunching my brows and wondering who the fuck has mailed me something. It could very well be my mother. She mails shit to me all the time to make it seem like she cares.
I right myself and glance around to see if there is anyone around. No one. I snake my hand into the galvanized metal box and pull out the package and a few ads. Flipping the small brown paper package over, I notice the return address right away.
Sadie Parker 803 Chestnut Lane Atlanta, GA 30331
I flip the package over and over in my hands, inspecting it carefully. I haven’t heard from her. I haven’t seen her. I’ve spent every second since she walked out of my life searching for a way back in, but there’s simply no room for me. Her heart belongs to him and I have to find a way to come to terms with that.
Tucking the package under my arm, I begin my walk back into the house, Sadie on my mind. I wonder how she is. I wonder where she is. I wonder if she’s safe. I’d give just about anything to see her walking down that beach toward me one more time. I’d give just about anything to go back in time and start over with her, to pull her from that water and be more careful with her in hopes that she wouldn’t have to do what she did.
I suck in a breath through my clenched jaw and shake my head. It’s no use. Even if I could go back in time, it doesn’t change a goddamn thing. I am who I am. She is who she is and I could never love her enough to see her out of that kind of loss—not with my fucked up situation. If she needs closure, she can go looking for it. I’ll wait here for her like I said I would. Maybe that’s my way of loving her enough. It’s all I’ve got at this point. I just hope it’s enough. I hope she finds her way back to me like she said she would. It’s all I think about.
I toss the ads in the garbage and walk over to the fridge. I lay the package on my counter then dig out a glass. I pour my daily vegetable juice over ice and eye the package from Sadie like it may bite me. I lean against the counter and take a long draw from my glass that I still wish I could add vodka to. Tomato juice just isn’t the same without it. Another long gulp and the ice cubes slide to the edge then plink to the bottom of the glass as I set it down. I snatch up the package and rip it open, deciding that I should just get it over with.
What the fuck?
There’s a cell phone inside, wrapped in a thin scrap of bubble wrap. I slide it out of the package onto my counter, peeking back inside the package to find a note.
Zander, No amount of explaining could make what I did hurt any less. Please know that I had to do what I did. I had to leave. I never wanted to hurt you. This is Jake’s cell phone. Dial one for his voicemail. The password is the month and year of our anniversary. 1109. Just listen. In spite of myself, you are my truth. You are my constant. You are my proof of life. You are my vital sign. With you, I more than breathe—I live. Please forgive me.