I wipe my face on the pillow my head is resting on and nod. “I want to, but what if he doesn’t come around?”
“He will,” he assures me. “I know he will. And don’t feel guilty for loving him, Charlotte. Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t understand it, but I do. I know what’s in your heart. I know how much you love us both. You just love us in a different way. Don’t ever feel bad for that.”
We talk for hours, saying our good-byes. And I pray for vigor the entire time. I promise him I won’t ever be that girl he found on the bridge the night we met. That much I’m sure of. He’s changed my outlook on life, and I’m a stronger person because he believed in me. He promises his heart will remain here with me. And I know that even when I can’t hear or see him, his memory will always give me strength. He tells me stories about his childhood, beautiful and simple stories to keep my mind from unraveling. He’s always had the gift to distract me so I don’t breakdown. And I don’t know what time it is, but my eyes have grown so heavy, I can barely stand it.
“Go to sleep, baby girl,” he whispers.
“Will you be here when I wake?”
His warm eyes meet mine and he smiles softly. “I’ll always be with you, Charlotte. Always. Right here.” And he points to his chest.
That means no. This is it. I want to protest. Beg him not to go, but I have no energy left. As my eyelids close, refusing to stay open, even though I desperately want them to, I tell him the truest and most pure thing I can. “I love you, Ike McDermott.”
“I love you, too, baby girl,” he whispers. “Here, there, forever.”
And come morning, I know that this is the last time I’ll ever see or speak to the beautiful and wondrous soul that is Ike McDermott.
I watch her sleep until the early rays of the morning sun begin to stream in to the room. She slept restless, crying softly in her sleep and calling out for me, begging me not to go.
I want to be angry and hateful about how unfair this is. But I can’t. For I feel truly at peace. I was given a gift. This beautiful woman not only saved my brother, but she loves me. In that, I can only rejoice. I think back to how George was. I feared he’d waste away to a shadow of his former self. She is the beacon of light that my brother needed. I can rest easy now.
After using all of my will and strength, I finally stand, allowing my eyes to slowly graze over her; getting my last visual fill before I leave. I have to go before she awakes or it’ll only drag out the emotional hell we’re both going through. She needs to begin the healing process and she can’t do that while I’m still here. In these last few seconds, I commit to memory every physical detail of her that I can; her long, dark hair, soft, pink lips, and smooth skin. But the best thing about her is her newfound joyous and spunky personality. I imagine her laugh, how light and beautiful it is. And that makes me grin. These memories are what will hold me through what lies ahead. The remembrance of her and what she has done for me and my family will be what gives me the courage to move on.
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.