The Space Between Us(43)

"He wasn't even sick," I whispered as I fell back onto the bench of the vanity.

"Can you come to Willow Falls as soon as possible? We have a lot to discuss with you."

I handed the phone to David and let him take down all the important  information. He walked around, collecting pen and paper, writing things  down, saying things to the man on the phone who told me my dad had died  today.

If my father had cancer, he would have told me. I spoke to him every  Sunday. Why wouldn't he tell me that he had cancer? I would have dropped  everything and gone to Willow Falls. I would have been there for him,  taken care of him. A tear fell from my cheek and landed on my hand on my  lap. I didn't even realize I was crying. I looked into the mirror and  saw my face, red and wet with tears.

"Baby, are you ok?" David was in front of me, kneeling on the ground.

"Did that man tell you what he told me?" I asked him, trying still to fit all the pieces together.

"He said that your father passed away today," he answered gently. "He said he had cancer."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why wouldn't he tell me he had cancer?" I  kept asking the question, but in the back of my mind I knew why he  didn't tell me. I leaned into David and let him comfort me, let him hold  me, let him bring me to bed and wrap his arms around me. The entire  time I was wishing it were someone else.

"What about your fundraiser?" I was all cries and sniffles and tears.

"Charlie, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be," he whispered against my hair.

There was a long silence between us. He stroked my hair and I continued  to cry and wail. Eventually I felt like I cried all the tears I had in  me. I was wrong, of course, but I was stable for the moment at least.

"I need to go to Willow Falls." It was difficult to call it home. For  the last thirteen years I hadn't felt like I had a home, really.

"We can book flights tomorrow. I have some vacation time saved up." My  insides froze up at his words. I didn't know before he'd mentioned  coming along, but the last place I wanted David was in Willow Falls. In  the five years we'd been together, I never found a reason to bring him  there and now wasn't the time to figure out why.

"You don't have to take time off from work to come with me. I can go by  myself." He rolled so that he was on top of me, using his hands to brush  my hair away from my face.

"I will go anywhere to be with you right now. You can't tell me to stay  home. Your father died. I love you. Of course I'm going with you."

I didn't anticipate this was going to be the moment where David realized  I was a coward and a fraud. I didn't anticipate my father dying  suddenly and me having to explain to my long-term boyfriend why he  couldn't come home with me. And like the coward I was I smiled at him  and nodded my head, let him kiss me on the cheek, and allow him to spoon  me as we fell asleep. Well, he fell asleep and I did a good job of  pretending to be asleep. Then I crept out of his arms and paced the  living room, trying to figure out which lie I'd tell him next to make  him stay out of my past.                       
       
           



       





Chapter Four

Asher

I made sure I was the last one to show up and that the service already  started. I made sure I wouldn't run into her. I opened the door slowly  and heard the pastor at the front of the church talking about how  important it was to live each day like it were a gift. I found a seat in  the very back pew for which I was grateful. I sat and tried to keep my  eyes on the man speaking at the front of the room, tried to force myself  to grieve, to see the casket and recognize that a man I loved and  respected was being laid to rest. But nothing was sinking in because I  knew she was in the room.

It has been so long. The last time I saw her I broke her heart. I  betrayed her in the worst way. I remembered standing in her room, saying  all the wrong things, but not knowing what else to do. I was so afraid,  so unbelievably caught off guard, but also so incredibly stupid. I  don't blame her for leaving; I would have left too. She didn't need to  wait around for me to swallow my pride, to tell her that everything I  said about our baby was a mistake, that in the end, all I'll ever think  about is how I took the best thing in my world and ruined it.

I saw her sitting in the front pew right next to Reeve. I could only see  her from the shoulders up, but I cherished every inch of her available.  She looked thin, her neck slimmer than I remembered it, the pointy  corners of her shoulders concerning. Her hair was pulled up into a bun  but I could tell it was still long and I felt my breathing speed up as I  remembered how I use to thread my fingers through her long tresses. I  used her hair for comfort, for boredom playing with it while she did  homework, and I used it to hold her where I wanted her. I closed my eyes  tight, trying to fight back the images of her naked back, her hair  wrapped tightly around my fist. I felt like the worst human possible,  fantasizing about her at her father's funeral.

Luckily, to the random funeral attendee, it probably looked like I was  emotional over the death of the outstanding man we were all here to  remember. But the overriding emotion I was feeling was regret, mixed  with a good amount of lust. This would probably be the last time I ever  saw her and that weighed heavily on me. I wanted to be the one sitting  next to her, holding her hand, comforting her. I looked back to where  she was sitting and didn't see a man next to her, just Reeve. How could  it be that she was here without someone? I couldn't imagine she was  alone in life. There's no way she's out in the world and no one was  trying to snatch her up. So why was she here all by herself?

I was brought back to attention when the pastor stopped talking and a  hush fell over the room. I saw Charlie stand and begin walking towards  the pulpit. My breath caught in my chest as I saw more of her. She was  so small and fragile, so tiny. At least, that's how I saw her. I wanted  to rush to the front of the church and hold her, protect her from  everything she must be going through. The black dress she wore was  conservative but still hugged her tightly. I remembered the way her  waist curved into her hips, how her belly was toned and flat leading to  the full roundness of her small breasts. She was far away, but I could  see the dark circles under her eyes.

As she faced the congregation of people, she looked down at the paper  she was unfolding in her hands. She took a deep breath in and we all  heard it shudder as she exhaled. My chest clenched, wanting to be near  her, to help her.

"When my mother died twenty years ago," she began, her voice shaking,  "my father and I were with her until the end, from her diagnosis, to her  doctor appointments, to her treatment. Finally, when there was nothing  left to do but keep her comfortable and wait, we waited with her. We sat  next to her, spoke to her, reassured her as best we could that we would  be ok and that we loved her." She brought a tissue to her nose, pausing  to collect herself. "I'm not sure if my father ever fully recovered  from her death, from the absence of the one person he was meant to be  with, but I know I didn't. And in this moment," she gave a quiet and  soft laugh, "I'm a little jealous that he gets to be with the love of  his life again, while some of us are still here, alone."

"I understand my father's choice to not tell me he was sick. I don't  agree with it, but I understand. It's not surprising that even on his  deathbed he was thinking of me, trying to protect me, to keep me from  getting hurt. He was the best dad in that way. I think back to all the  phone conversations we had while he must have been sick. He never let on  that anything was wrong, never complained, never confided in me his  fears of possibly dying." She paused again and a small cry left her, a  hand coming up to cover her mouth. I nearly shot out of my seat, rushing  to her to stand with her, to be with her. "In his effort to protect  me," she continued, still upset and speaking through tears, "he robbed  me of my right to say goodbye. I've had enough instances of goodbye in  my life and I don't want any more, but I'll never get over the fact that  I never got to tell him to his face, one last time, how much I loved  him."                       
       
           



       

I could tell she tried very hard to hold herself together and the  tension in the room was thick. Everyone's heart broke watching this  young woman, just barely thirty, saying goodbye to her last parent. I  wanted to take away all her pain, but more so, felt guilty that some of  her pain, even if it was in the past, was caused by me. I hated myself a  little bit more in that moment.