To Say Goodbye (23 page)

And then there was nothing.

_______________

Sophia woke to a crowd gathered around her, a woman shouting she was a nurse pushing her way to her. She felt the strange woman’s hand on her wrist. Everything was blurry, but then it came into focus.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, I think you blacked out. Just stay there.” A woman’s hands were on her head, pushing firmly. She tried to brush her away.

“I’m fine. My head just hurts a little.” She started to sit up, wooziness overpowering her. Tim and the woman pushed her back down gently.

“The ambulance is on its way,” another voice shouted.

“Tim, I’m fine. This is silly.”

Suddenly, she felt something sticky on her forehead. She pulled her finger in front of her eyes and saw it—blood. Hot, sticky blood.

Then there was nothing again.

_______________

The next thing she remembered was opening her eyes from a hospital bed, bandages partially blocking her eye. Tim was pacing around the room, and her parents there, too.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on?” she croaked. They ran to her bedside.

“Oh, honey. You’re fine! You just took a spill.”

“What?”

“Do you remember?”

She thought, rummaging through her mind for the appropriate memories. It came back to her in bits. The ring, feeling very warm, and then nothing. Then the blood... and nothing again.

“What happened?”

“They ran some tests. They think you just had low blood sugar from not eating all day,” Tim said. “You passed out, but I couldn’t quite catch you in time. You fell in an awkward way and cracked your head on the corner of the table. You got some stitches.”

“Well, your fiancée isn’t quite the graceful woman she claims to be,” her dad added, and Sophia’s heart stopped. Of course! The proposal. The ring. She had never said...

“It’s not fiancée yet,” Tim said, looking at her expectantly. “Although after this whole scene, I’m not so certain about her answer anymore at all.”

He approached her, taking her hand in his.

She smiled at him, despite the aching in her head and her exhaustion. “Yes, Tim. I was going to say yes.”

“Really?” His grin was goofy, like a small boy who found a $5 bill on the ground.

She nodded gently, and he left out a cheer. “Hallelujah!” He reached in to kiss her, vigorously brushing his lips against hers.

“Ow,” she said.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly apologized. “We’re getting married! Let’s set a date.”

“How about we get me out of this joint first,” she teased.

Their toast wasn’t quite the adorable, memorable pink lemonade toast he had planned for them. They didn’t get to enjoy the celebratory cheesecake either, hospital Jell-O having to serve as a substitute along with some ginger ale.

Despite the chaos and the bandages, the impromptu trip to the hospital, the pain, and the mild concussion, it was all worth it.

She was marrying Tim. She had found the one, her Mr. Right, the man she would spend forever with. At that moment, hospital bed and all, Sophia was happier than she ever dreamed she could be.

_______________

At the time, stitches from a fall were the worst thing Sophia and Tim could imagine in their life together. They hadn’t been able to foresee, to even consider life would throw them an even harsher, unbearable blow. A decade of happiness, of flashbacks to their memorable proposal would be scarred by a sudden loss, a devastating blow to their relationship. Forever wouldn’t be as long as either of them had planned.

Stella’s ring had brought visions of that first proposal, but in truth, they’d brought visions of another proposal, too. Sophia wanted to block this second one out, to pretend her mind wasn’t going there.

But it was.

Because when she saw Stella’s ring, she had also been considering what it would be like to have Jackson ask her to marry him, to have him say sweet, tender words to her on a carriage ride, reminiscent of their first real moment together. She had thought how the name Sophia Gauge flew sweetly off her tongue.

Tears welled, and her heart ached. She missed Tim. She hated herself for wanting Jackson. Most of all, she hated the aching pierce of her lonely heart.

JACKSON

“I
’m sorry I missed last night, Mom. I couldn’t get off work.” Jackson handed his crudely wrapped gift to his mom, who was leaning on the counter.

“You’ve been working a lot lately, honey,” she replied, reaching for the package. “We missed you last night.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He led himself to a stool at the island as she unwrapped her birthday gift.

“Do you want some leftover cake?” she asked, setting down the package to reach for a plate.

“No, I’m good.”

She started cutting him a piece anyway. She handed him the cake before returning to the gift.

He sighed, deciding the chocolate cake with peanut butter icing did look amazing.

His mom crumpled the paper, putting it on the counter as she opened the box to reveal the bracelet he’d picked out—this morning, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Honey, it’s gorgeous. I love it,” she said, heading over to hug him after she put it on her wrist. “Thank you.”

She kissed him on the cheek as he shoveled cake in his mouth.

“So, how are things?”

He swallowed a glob of icing before replying. “Okay. Busy.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve barely seen you this month.”

He eyed her, trying to mask the despondency on his face. “It’s been hectic at work.”

“Jonathan told me the appeal was approved and you’re going to court soon.”

“Yep.”

“Aren’t you happy about that? It’s a good sign.”

He shrugged. “I’ll probably lose anyway.”

“Jackson. What is this? You’re so negative and down. I’m worried about you.”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine since she left. Stop pretending you haven’t been around because of work.”

“I told you, I’ve been working a lot.”

“Not last night.”

His cheeks reddened and his gaze fell to the floor. “How’d you find out?” he mumbled, ashamed.

“You know I have eyes everywhere.”

“Gloria.”

“Yes, Gloria found out from her son who knows Joe, your coworker.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Honey, I don’t care about you missing my birthday party. I’m an old hag. My birthday doesn’t even matter anymore. I’m more concerned about you. You’re slipping away, Jackson. I see it on your face.”

He put his head in his hands. His mother was right. She was always right.

He hadn’t wanted to admit how close he was to the edge again, how close he was to slipping back into the Jackson he had been after Chloe left him. He didn’t want to own up to the fact that the bottle was calling his name, that suddenly the sunshine felt like it was melting his skin. He found himself, more and more, craving the solitude of his dingy apartment and he felt the mindless television gaining room in his life. He found himself sinking slowly away from the man he’d become.

The man he’d been with Sophia.

Gone were the days of laughter and optimism. He didn’t even know the man who thought he could win Logan back. He looked in the mirror and he saw sadness, loneliness.

He saw a broken man.

But he wasn’t one to ask for help. He wasn’t one to admit it. Instead, he’d been slipping away from everyone, from everything. His days were again overrun by work and sleep.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his mother put her arms around his shoulders.

“Jackson, get it together. It’s not too late to get her back.”

“Mom, stop. I’ve tried.”

“Well try harder. It’s not like you to give up so quickly. God, all those years growing up, you were a stubborn ass. Now, you find the woman who makes you happy, and you just let her go at the drop of a hat? What the hell are you thinking?”

He turned to look at her, and she smiled.

“Wow, Mom. Way to be subtle.”

“I don’t have time for subtle. Neither do you. Don’t let that woman slip away. Fight for her. Fight for Logan. Fight for your life back, Jackson.”

It’d been a hard few weeks. He hadn’t felt any glimmers of hope. The turned down phone calls, her insistence it was over. A few annoying visits from Chloe, a few violent outbursts when he swore up and down it was still over. Nothing seemed hopeful.

But leave it to his mom, the crazy, sometimes foul-mouthed lady who loved to stuff him with food, to reignite his views of the future.

She was right. What the hell was he thinking?

He wasn’t ready to let her go. He didn’t think Sophia was ready to let go either, no matter what she’d convinced herself.

“I love you, Mom,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Happy belated birthday. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to see you blow out the candles. I hate to run, but I have somewhere to be.”

His mom smiled, clapping her hands together. “I knew that candle was lucky.”

“What?” he asked as he stood from the stool.

“That candle Gretta brought. She found this birthday candle shaped like a cat, so naturally she bought it for me. I made a wish when I blew out the candles yesterday—not that you would know since you lied and skipped my party.” She grinned, showing she was teasing. “Anyway, I made a wish. And I think it’s about to come true if you’re heading where I think you are.”

“I’m heading to the graveyard.”

His mom furrowed her brow. “Okay, well, that wasn’t my birthday wish.”

Now it was his turn to grin. “Well, maybe not. Hopefully not. But I think, in a roundabout way, this is going to make your wish come true.

“Okay, I’m done asking questions, you weird boy. Now, get out of here. Thanks for the bracelet. I love it. Oh, and next time you decide to lie to your mother, at least make it a convincing one.”

“What’s the point? I thought you have eyes everywhere.”

“True. Always have.”

“I know. I found out the hard way.”

“Not my fault you thought you could hide cigarettes.”

“Yeah, or kiss Becky after we skipped class. Or swipe a chocolate bar from the general store.”

“Wow, I forgot what a terrible child you were. Maybe Sophia was right to get away from you.”

“Really, Mom?”

“I’m kidding. Now go. My show’s starting in fifteen minutes.”

“You know you could get a DVR.”

“Your father doesn’t want the government spying on us.”

“Okay, I’m seriously out,” Jackson said, shaking his head.

His family was, in fact, crazy.

He truly loved them for it.

JACKSON

H
eadlights passed by the cemetery, blinding Jackson with their ricocheting light. They lifted the graveyard out of the uncanny, celestial glow from the stars.

Most would be frightened by the prospect of standing in a graveyard this late, but Jackson wasn’t. The blackness, the stark silence seemed more fitting than the daylight visits.

He didn’t really know much about daylight visits, in all honesty. It’d been a while since his feet had plodded on this plot of ground. He’d been, in reality, avoiding this area.

He didn’t want to forget Tim. He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to. The man had been such a fixture in his life, even when he wasn’t actually there. He’d been a part of almost every single one of Jackson’s childhood memories and moments.

The situation with Sophia, though... well, it did sort of make graveyard visits a bit different. He understood Sophia’s guilt over their budding relationship because it was, in many ways, his own. You didn’t covet your best friend’s wife; the commandments even made that clear. Did that rule apply now, though? His rational sense said no. But the part of him that would always see Sophia like he had the very first day—on Tim’s arm—said maybe.

He wanted to believe Tim would be okay with this. Tim had been such a selfless man. He’d always been. He knew Tim would want both Sophia and Jackson to find happiness in a world without him, no matter what that meant. Jackson had to believe Tim would understand it wasn’t planned.

Still, when he’d realized how right his mother was, Jackson felt an instant pull to come here. His mind made up, he knew he needed to clear the air, if not for Tim’s sake—obviously—then for his very own. He needed to be here, to feel Tim’s presence. He needed to feel close to him, to feel in a way as if they were settling things. It was an odd feeling, an odd request. Then again, nothing from the past year was conventional or expected.

Jackson lowered himself to the ground, a bit soppy from a light afternoon sprinkle. He felt chilled, the night air still not committing to full spring temperatures. It didn’t matter. All he cared about, all he needed, was to be present in this moment, to reflect, and to figure things out.

He sat in silence, thinking about a lot of things, twirling a blade of grass between his thumbs. He thought about Sophia, about seeing her at the mall months before Tim passed. He thought about the sorrow on her face at the grave.

He thought about their memories, though, too. He thought about the feeling he tried to push out of his shattered heart, the feeling that pulled his heart back together. He thought about her laugh, about the way she said his name, about the way she blew her bangs out of her eyes.

Looking at the gravestone, his mind traveled back to a time long ago.

A time when Sophia wasn’t his or Tim’s.

A time when Tim was the brother he’d never had.

_______________

“Jackson, just spill. What is it?”

Jackson shook his head, anger churning inside. Sitting on the sofa where they usually played games, he felt his fury erupt as he crushed his soda can, the metal crumpling.

“Nothing.”

“Just tell me. You’ve been stewing all afternoon.”

Tim and Jackson were partaking in their usual Friday night tradition—video games and pizza. It was their junior year. They’d been friends for a while. They’d been through the awkward junior high years, a prom, a few girlfriends, a few kisses, and a few trips to third base. They’d been there for each other through a few breakups, a few mistakes. Tim had been there for the loss of Wade, and Jackson had been there for Tim through an intense cancer scare.