There are no words to express our sincerest condolences for your recent brainstem glioma diagnosis. It is extremely rare in adults and as of now there is no cure.
We’ve attempted to contact you many times throughout the last few months to encourage you to join the group therapy we provide for people with your diagnosis. Knowing you’re not the only one and joining with others might help to cope with the future you face.
We would love to assist you in any way possible.
Please contact us and know there are resources to guide you through what you’re feeling.
A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky and I stare at it, welcoming it to take me, begging for it to release me from this torture.
I let go of the only woman I ever really cared for.
And she’s out there, suffering, living out whatever time she has left without ever knowing how much I love her.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SAWYER
“The Monroe file is on your desk,” Dana calls as I pass by her and into my office.
I snag the file and drop into an overstuffed chair. I’d always thought the thing was for decoration and wouldn’t fathom doing work on it at the risk of it being unprofessional, but that was pre-Aden. The post-Aden me says fuck it. Kicking off my heels I tuck my feet up under me and crack open the folder.
It’s been months since we buried my sister and though I don’t think anything will ever feel “normal” again, my life is back on track. They say that staying busy helps with mourning. I can’t say I agree, but it has to be better than sitting at home staring at the wall.
Dana pops her head in through the door. “The property manager from Paseo called and wanted to know if you’re ready to put down a security deposit?”
I worry my lip. I’ve been living with my parents and as much as I know it’ll hurt them for me to leave, I think it’s time we all move on. Lord knows I’m ready for my own space. “Sure, go ahead and give it to them.”
Dana smiles sadly but nods. “Will do. Oh, and Mark is on his way up.”
“Okay.” I go back to my file and force the thoughts of Aden from my mind as everything, even the idea of renting a new apartment, makes me think of him.
His name alone makes me miss him with a fierceness I didn’t think I was capable of. I’d hoped that over time his memory would fade into wistful thoughts rather than intensify, but no such luck. I only hope he’s doing well, that he’s managed to beat back what tortures him rather than end up alone and angry.
He deserves so much more.
My eyes drift to the photo on my coffee table. Celia and me at a holiday get-together a few years before she died. Her nose is pierced and she’s wearing a headband around her forehead like she’s straight out of Haight-Ashbury while I’m flashing a closed-lipped smile looking suffocated in my turtleneck. Her hair is falling all around her face and mine is pulled back in an extreme bun. If it weren’t for our totally opposite styles no one would ever know the difference between us.
I’ve often wondered if she and Aden would’ve made the perfect couple. If she never would’ve gotten sick and come home would they have met and ended up together, married, babies. God, how could I sit by and watch without having a crush on my own brother-in-law.
I couldn’t. I’d have loved him.
I love him.
“Knock knock?” Mark’s voice calls my eyes to him as he walks through the door and drops down on the chair opposite me.
“Hey.” I close the folder in my hands, genuinely happy to see him.
After Celia died, he’s been a great friend. I know he’s hoping for more but I can’t give my heart to anyone as long as it’s with Aden.
He tilts his head. “How’re you doing?”
“Good.” I frown. “Why?”
A shy smile pulls his lips. “Just checking in on you, ya know, with the date and all.”
“Yeah . . .” It’s the eighteenth. “I can’t believe she’s been gone for two months.”
“How’re your parents?”
I shrug one shoulder. “They’re a little better every day.”
“Good.” He scoots to the end of his seat and sets his eyes on me and I see nothing but sympathy there. “If you ever need anything, I’m here for you, Sawyer.”
I reach forward and grab his hand, squeezing it in mine. “I know you are and I appreciate that, but I’m okay.”
His gaze moves from my hair to my chin, then back to my eyes. “You’re different.”
“Am I?” I lean back to put some distance between us. As much as I do appreciate Mark’s attentiveness, I don’t want to lead him on.
“Since you came back from your break you’re more . . .” He shrugs and blows out a long breath. “I don’t know.”
“Well . . .” I smile at him. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” His expression grows serious, and as handsome as he is he doesn’t light me on fire the way a certain someone does.
“Do.” His cheeks flush a little and he stands to leave, but turns before passing through the doorway. “Listen, do you want to grab a bite after work?”
“Oh, um—”
“As friends. I swear, no funny business.”
Friends.
It seems I finally have some, thanks to Celia.
My lips pull into a grin. “I’ve been dying for sushi.”
“Sushi?” He looks confused but nods. “Okay, I’ll be back to get you around six?”
My eyes land on the photo of me and Cece. “Actually, I wanted to swing by the graveyard first, drop off some flowers.”
“I can go with you.” There’s a hopefulness in his expression.
“That’s sweet, but . . . I need to do this alone. Why don’t you go grab us a table at Stingray and I’ll be there around six-thirty?”
“Sure.” He grins and it really does seem sincere, then he passes through the door to leave me alone with my thoughts.
I’m going to have to move on eventually.
The problem is . . . I don’t know if I can.
ADEN
CELIA MARIE FORRESTER BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER.
MAY YOUR ADVENTURES CONTINUE ON INTO ETERNITY.
I stare at the tombstone waiting for a clarity that never comes.
She’s gone.
According to the date etched into the stone she died two weeks after she left.
That must’ve been why she took off with no contact. She knew she had only a limited amount of time and I was her final hurrah. But she seemed so healthy, and staring at the proof with my own two eyes doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
The wind kicks up, but even though it feels like a blowtorch of hundred-degree air it cools my sweat-sticky skin.
It’s hard to trace my steps back to what brought me here. I was staring between empty bottles of booze and a full one in my hand and it hit me. Drinking myself to death wasn’t going to solve a single fucking thing. It wouldn’t bring Celia back to my boat, wouldn’t put her back in my arms, wouldn’t bring her lips back to mine when all I’ve ever dreamed of was to kiss her one last time.
Or even more, just to tell her I love her.
I loved her.
I gave in and I tried to call, even texted, but everything was a dead end. I pulled out her old rental agreement and dialed the number on there, but it had been disconnected.
Desperate to hunt her down, I logged on to the Internet and Googled her name and that’s when I saw the obituary.