I try to stay out of it. They may think it's possible, but I don't want to get my hopes up.
The original plan was for me to follow her there, get a full time job and maybe a little apartment for us. Now, it's most likely community college and, somehow, scrape together enough change for a tiny studio apartment. I don't think she'd want to live with me in a place like that, but I don't want to be too far from her that I wouldn't be able to see her every day. Everyone knows my plans, and the only one that has questioned me following my high school sweetheart like a sick puppy is my dad. I would argue with him, but I can see his point. On paper, it seems crazy. In real life, crazy would be me if I didn't get to see her every day.
Tom nods while I explain all of this to him, but I doubt he's really listening. "Are you sure you're okay, Tom?"
"Yeah," he sighs. "I'm having a rough day is all."
I rub the back of my neck nervously. "You want to talk about it?"
He eyes me now, his gaze so intense I almost forget to breathe. "Lachlan called Virginia Mom." He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Actually he's been calling any woman he sees Mom. Virginia said it was because he gets confused at the playgroups she takes him to." He sighs and sips his drink. "I just miss her, Cam." He sniffs and wipes his eyes again, trying to hide his tears. "Some days are good, some days are bad. Today's a bad day. But two days ago, I had the worst kind of day. I forgot her." He sniffs again, clearing his throat roughly. "I went a day when I didn't think about her, and I went to bed thinking it was a good day, and then I realized why. I don't want to forget her, but it hurts too much to always remember her, you know?"
"No." My voice breaks, I clear it quickly. "I don't know," I answer truthfully. "And to be honest with you, I don't ever want to know. I can't spend a day without seeing Lucy. I don't even want to begin to understand the world of hurt if that were forever."
He nods, his tears falling faster than before. "Hey, remember that time you and Lucy were here and she was telling you how she pictured your first house? You know, after college."
I laugh once. "Yeah, she was so detailed she asked me to sketch it."
He reaches over the table to his briefcase and clicks it open. He pulls out a few sheets of paper and goes through them. "This is your sketch, right?" He pushes my sketch across the table.
"Yeah, that's it." I smile. "How did you get this?"
"You left it on the coffee table."
"Oh."
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Then he sighs heavily and drops the rest of the papers in front of me. "I built it," he states.
Before I can wrap my head around what he's just said, he continues, "About a mile from here, still on our property. I'm going to show Luce tomorrow. She needs somewhere quieter, she's always complaining she can't study with all the noise. Just don't abuse my trust okay, Cam?"
I shake my head. "No, sir. I wouldn't."
"I know." He nods slowly. "I know that." He sighs again. "Can I be honest with you?"
"Always."
"I don't know... maybe when you guys go off to college, you can come visit me every now and then. That cabin will always be there for you two. Maybe summers you can come home? I know the boys will miss you." He wipes at his eyes again, unable to hold it in any longer. "You coming into Lucy's life the way you did—I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there—if you weren't there to see her suffering. Sometimes I wonder what she'd be like now if you..." He clears his throat. "I'm just grateful you're around for my little girl."
I watch as he stares down at the table, his eyes red raw from all the tears he's been crying, probably well before I showed up. And I've never felt what I feel now—this intense ache for a man that's lost half of himself. A man that's so hurt and so confused by his wife's memory that he's stuck. Not wanting to move forward but afraid to go back. "My wife would've loved you, kid," he mumbles, his eyes never lifting.
And even now, when he's so emotionally drained, he's still thinking of her. He still calls her his wife. I wonder if he'll always think of her as that, even when she's long gone. His forever wife.
I suck in a breath and swallow nervously. Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I inform, "I'm going to make Lucy my wife one day."
"I know," he says without hesitation. "And when that day comes, you come see me, okay?"
***
"My mouth tastes pukey," she says, stumbling to her bathroom. I don't think she's drunk anymore, just tired. She pauses with the toothbrush in her mouth and glances at me quickly before opening the cupboard under the sink and handing me a new one. When she's done, she flops onto her bed, her legs dangling off the edge with one arm covering her eyes. "Goodnight."