Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Kyle woke early that June morning with a renewed sense of purpose, something he couldn’t remember feeling in a very long time. Certainly not in the fifteen months since Charlie died. He had a to-do list and no time to waste. Last night Casey had agreed to get out of town with him for a while, and he didn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind. The sight of their bags in the corner of the bedroom, a couple of large duffels they’d packed last night, buoyed his spirits even more. This was really happening. They were leaving today.
He got out of bed and dressed as quietly as possible so as not to wake her, though that was hard to do when she took the sleeping pills, which she did most nights now. But on his way out of the bedroom he stopped to watch her. She was curled up on her side, hands tucked under the pillow. She wore one of his T-shirts, and her hair fanned out behind her. He found himself doing that often now, taking time to watch her sleep. Her face looked at peace when she was sleeping, relaxed and smooth, free of the constant heavy grief she carried in her features when she was awake. One of his hopes for this trip was that it would alleviate a little of that suffocating grief that filled their home and daily lives. He had a lot of hopes for this trip.
Star followed him downstairs. He let her out for a few minutes, gave her food and fresh water before he hopped in the truck and drove to the garage, which was empty, since it was Sunday morning. He wanted to make sure his pickup was ready for a long road trip. It would make for a nice ride, a four-door Ford F-250, only six years old, with plenty of room for their stuff. Although they didn’t have a specific timeline or plan yet, other than to hit spots on their old wish list—which was tucked into his front jeans pocket—Kyle wanted them to be gone for a while. The longer, the better.
He checked the tires, all the fluid levels, vacuumed it out and wiped down the interior. He wasn’t planning to tell Mateo he was leaving until the last minute. He felt like shit about that, but the truth was he was afraid to tell anyone. This whole thing felt fragile, and he didn’t want to jinx it, or chance any interference. That’s why he’d asked Casey not to tell anyone, not even Wyatt or Dad or Angie, until they were on their way out of town. After they were on the road she would call her boss and let him know she was taking leave.
He knew they’d be putting people in tough spots, particularly Mateo, who would have to take over the garage, and Principal Shriver, who would have to find a long-term substitute teacher. They were being selfish, but he didn’t care. Right now, they needed to be. The frightening truth was this: Kyle was losing her. She was slipping further away from him every day, and he felt powerless to stop it.
He finished up with the truck and spent a few minutes in the office organizing the schedule, and he shot an email to his bookkeeper instructing her to give Mateo a raise effective immediately. After ten years Mateo knew the ins and outs of the business, he knew how everything worked, the garage would be in good hands. Kyle would owe him big-time for this, and the raise would help.
His next stop was the IGA, where he walked the aisles, picked out various snacks and drinks. He wanted to pack a cooler with some staples to get them by, since it was hard to know when and where they’d stop. He actually felt a prickle of excitement at that thought, something else he hadn’t experienced in so long. The lack of a plan, the unknown, made this feel like an adventure, and he believed that’s exactly what he and Casey needed—time together, doing something different, somewhere different.
The first few months after Charlie died were a harrowing haze of despair and denial, and he and Casey staggered through them in a similar fashion. The shock of losing Charlie was so profound his mind couldn’t actually comprehend it. From the moment he arrived home that afternoon, driving breakneck speed after Casey’s frantic phone call, his brain had ceased to work the same. It needed extra time to process everything—the image of Charlie on the ground, covered in blood, paramedics already working on him, and Casey, also covered in so much blood Kyle initially thought she was hurt too. When she told him what happened he understood but couldn’t make sense of it at the same time. When they arrived at the hospital in Syracuse—a two-and-a-half-hour drive he was unable to recall even though he was the one driving—he simply could not mentally or emotionally connect with the idea that his son was gone forever.
He saw the same thing going on with her, slow reaction time while she moved through the days with an air of bewilderment, like she was perpetually disoriented. They would accidentally skip meals or fail to turn on lights in a dark house or get in the truck to drive somewhere and forget where they were going. And that anesthetized fog cushioned them when they had to make those immediate decisions about Charlie. Kyle and Casey had already decided they wanted to be cremated as opposed to buried, but they’d certainly never talked about that in relation to Charlie. It would have been unnatural, unthinkable. Still, they made the call quickly. Casey said she hated the thought of him buried in the ground, and Kyle realized he did too. That’s when Wyatt asked if he could build a box for Charlie’s ashes until they decided what they wanted to do with them. In hindsight Kyle believed those first months of numb confusion were about surviving the worst possible thing that could happen to a person. And they didn’t get through them together exactly, but at least alongside each other.
While paying for the groceries he double-checked his pocket for the wish list and glanced at his phone to see he’d been gone for almost ninety minutes. A sliver of anxiety edged its way into his chest, and he wondered why the hell he didn’t just load her up in the truck and leave last night. But it had been late, and they’d both been exhausted after their discussion, not to mention what followed it.
She’d come home after being gone all day again. Classes had ended for the year, but she was teaching summer school and helping high schoolers with SAT prep and volunteering at a camp for children with special needs. She packed her days with many different activities.
He’d been waiting for her at the kitchen table with all his arguments lined up. As soon as she walked in he asked if he could talk to her about something, and she took the chair across from him.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.
“I ate with the kids at camp.”
He nodded, trying to recall when they’d last eaten dinner together. Or done anything together for that matter. For a long time it had felt less like they were sharing a life and more like they were ghosts of themselves, moving around each other in the house. Even now, she was sitting right there, same honey-brown hair and piercing green eyes, same delicate hands folded on the table. He was close enough to reach out and touch her, but he was afraid to, like maybe his fingers would pass right through her. “I want you to hear me out,” he said.
“Okay.”
So he told her he believed they needed to take this trip, and they needed to do it now. He preemptively shot down all her objections: Mateo could manage the garage, Wyatt would take Star, Bob Shriver would understand, given what they’d been through and how hard she worked all the time. Dad could help Wyatt get around and take care of the house, and they had enough money saved up to carry them for a while, though he didn’t mention that included Charlie’s college fund. They could be back by the new school year if she wanted. But, he also told her, if they needed more time away, or found somewhere they wanted to land for a while, they could do that too. He worked hard to sound confident. He’d been fumbling his way through life since Charlie died, unsure of anything. But he needed her to trust him about this, trust that he still knew how to take care of her.
She listened to all of it, watching him closely while he talked, occasionally nodding, like she was really considering his words.
Then he brought out one of his two strongest arguments, the ones he hoped would seal the deal. “I thought we could spread some of Charlie’s ashes along the way. Maybe at a few of the national parks, in the mountains or the ocean. Wherever it feels right. We all used to talk about taking a trip like this someday. I think he’d really like that, Case.”
Her eyes welled up. “You’re right, he would,” she said, the corner of her mouth pinching up in the smallest of smiles.
Seeing that tiny smile was the most hopeful Kyle had felt since they lost Charlie. He reached over to place his hands on hers, and she let him. “Let’s do this,” he said. “For us. Let’s go and explore and be somewhere else for a while and create new memories together.”
Her eyes stayed on his and he could see her mind working behind them, weighing it all.
“I want you back, Casey,” he said. “Please, come away with me.”
Her breathing picked up and she chewed her bottom lip while she glanced over at the hutch, at Charlie’s box. Then she looked back at Kyle. “Okay.”
He angled his head. “Say that again.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Yes.”
He let out an incredulous laugh. “We can leave tomorrow?”
She nodded again, the small smile returning.
“Oh my God.” Pure relief spread through him as he squeezed her hands. “Thank you.”
She squeezed back.
“We should pack tonight, be ready to take off tomorrow morning as soon as I check out the truck and pick up a few things.”
“All right.” He swore he saw a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, heard it in her voice. “All right, let’s do it.”
“And listen,” he said. He’d had one more argument to make, and though it wasn’t necessary now he still wanted to put it out there. “I was thinking… While we’re traveling around maybe you want to check out some schools.”
“Schools?”
“Yeah, grad schools. I remember how much you thought about it, all those years ago, before Charlie was born. I know I wasn’t supportive then—I should have been—but we could research programs, visit campuses. I would be up for living somewhere else. I can always get a job.”
She pulled back a bit, a dazed expression on her face. Maybe he was hitting her with too much at once.
“It’s just something to think about,” he said. “I know there’d be a lot to figure out. But you missed out on Dartmouth, and you gave up grad school for me, and for Charlie. I’m sorry you had to do that, but if that’s something you still want, I’m in.”
Silent tears started to fall down her cheeks.
“Hey,” he said, “you okay?”
She nodded.
“So we’re doing this? Packing tonight and leaving tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
For some reason he was tempted to confirm that yet again, probably because of her quiet crying, but he figured that was a good thing, part of the healing. Especially when she rose and came around the table to stand close to him.
She put her hands on his shoulders and looked down at him with so much love he barely noticed when her tears dripped on his shirt. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said.
So Kyle had stood and led her up to their bedroom. They’d actually had sex somewhat regularly since Charlie died. It felt like the only way they still connected. But it always happened during the night in the dark of their room, one of them making a move for the other without preamble or conversation, like they were going through the motions to escape the pain for a little while.
But last night had been different. They’d taken their time, her eyes stayed open and fixed on his, she responded more to his touch and gave back in kind. She was more present than she’d been in a long time. Afterward she had tucked into him, fallen asleep in the crook of his arm while he talked about the places they would see as they made their way west.
After loading the groceries and bags of ice into the cooler in the back of the pickup, Kyle headed home. Within an hour they’d be on the road. He thought maybe they’d make it to Pittsburgh that evening. They could spend a few days seeing where Casey’s dad came from, take some pictures of the city and Heinz Field for Wyatt. From there they would take it day by day, and as they clocked the miles they could continue the healing they’d started last night.
He knew it would take time. They’d become strangers to each other to a certain degree. If he had to pin down when that started it was after the initial shell shock wore off, when it settled in that they were supposed to adjust to this new reality, life without Charlie. That’s when Casey shut down.
The grief would hit him hard too, at random times, while he was engrossed in something at work, or laughing at a joke, enjoying a hockey game. He’d remember Charlie was gone, and then he’d feel bad for not thinking about it for that moment. When the sorrow hit, he would sink into it for a little bit. Go up to Charlie’s room, touch his things, pull up old memories. He’d recall how worried he was before Charlie was born, afraid of losing some of Casey’s love, like it was finite and she had only so much to give. But it was Charlie who taught him love could be boundless. Though Kyle knew there would forever be a layer of sorrow between him and the world, one that dulled his senses and made every experience a little less vivid, he was deeply grateful for that time with his son. After a while he’d leave Charlie’s room and be able to go back to work or say yes to a pickup game or have a beer with Wyatt in the shop.
But when he tried to connect with Casey, make her smile, take her hand, just sit and be with her, she’d pull back. She wouldn’t flat-out reject him, but she’d find a way to slip from his grasp and stay just out of reach. Until last night.
He felt such an urgency to get going he considered leaving the truck running when he pulled up behind their house, but he turned it off. It would take time to load up, and they had to stop in the shop to let Wyatt know they were leaving. He’d be surprised, but Kyle also knew his brother-in-law would be relieved. Wyatt had always served as a barometer of sorts for Kyle and Casey. He was good at sensing when there was tension between them, or when they needed time to themselves, and he made himself scarce accordingly. Over the last year he’d spent a hell of a lot more time out of the house than in it.
When Kyle headed inside, he was relieved to find Casey up and dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug and Star coiled up at her feet. Any lingering worry evaporated when he saw the duffel bags in the hallway behind her. She was ready to go.
“Hey,” he said, walking over to kiss the top of her head.
“Hey.”
He moved to the kitchen drawers, pulled a large ziplock out of one, then opened another. “We’re all set. I checked the truck, topped off the gas, stocked up on food…” He shifted things around in their junk drawer, looking for a few basics to keep on hand in the pickup: scissors, duct tape, Band-Aids. “We’ll stop over and talk to Wyatt, then let Dad know. I’ll call Mateo once we’re on the way.” He tossed a couple of pens into the baggie and sealed it up, grabbed a water bottle from the cabinet above. “I was thinking we might get to Pittsburgh today,” he said, turning on the faucet to fill the bottle. “And we’ll just figure it out from there.”
“Kyle.”
It was the way she said it. Low and clear and firm. Such a contrast to the frenetic energy he’d brought into the room. He froze so long the water overfilled the bottle and splashed down his hand. He switched the faucet off, dried his hand with a dish towel, and finally turned to her.
She sat at the table, holding her mug and staring into it.
He took a deep breath. It was last-minute nerves. She was worried about leaving so suddenly, doubting it. He just needed to remind her why they were doing this, how important it was. He took the seat across from her and forced a smile. “Sorry, I’m just excited to get going.”
She didn’t look up.
“But if you need a little more time…”
“I can’t go.”
He brought a fist to his mouth, like it could beat back his rising panic. “Can’t go right now? Today?”
She shook her head. “I can’t go at all.”
“Is it work? Are you worried about leaving them in the lurch?”
“It’s not work. I just can’t do it.” She still wouldn’t look at him.
He let his eyes wander around the kitchen, wishing a magic rewind button would appear so he could turn back time to last night. Which is when he noticed something. Behind Casey, sitting on the floor in the hallway, there was only one duffel bag. His duffel bag. She’d carried his down and left hers upstairs. As the heaviness of that settled on him, what it meant, he sagged back against his chair. “Why is my bag down here?”
Her gaze darted to his, but only for a second. “I don’t want to stop you from leaving.”
He considered those words, which could conceivably be taken as a double negative and translated to I want you to go . He felt utterly defeated and didn’t even try to keep it from his voice. “Were you ever really going to go?”
“I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.”
So, for Casey last night had not been the first step in healing their marriage. It had been goodbye. “I don’t want to go without you,” he said.
“But you were so excited about it.”
Every single hope he’d had for this trip vanished. He was no longer fighting to bring them closer together, he was fighting to keep them under the same roof. “Tell me to stay.”
Her fingers tightened around the mug until her knuckles were white. “I can’t do that. It’s your decision.”
“Tell me to stay. That’s all I need to hear to believe we can get through this.”
“Maybe it would be really good for you—”
“Tell me to stay, Casey. Or I have no choice but to believe you want me to go.”
And she said nothing. Which said everything.
They sat there for a long time, across from each other, but not looking at each other, not speaking, not even crying, since they were both cried out. He supposed it was a way of saying goodbye. By then he knew he was going. The life he’d had in Potsdam, their life, had died with Charlie.
There was a moment when he came close to asking her the question, the one that had started burning in his brain over the past several months and was getting harder to ignore because it explained so much. He’d been too afraid to ask it before, but he had nothing to lose now. Maybe it would make this easier if he asked it. Do you blame me for what happened to Charlie? When she said yes, she did, he would know with certainty he no longer had a place in this house, or in her heart. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, couldn’t bear to force her to say those words, and couldn’t bear to hear them.
When he finally rose to leave he was vaguely aware of that numb confusion moving in, which is probably what enabled him to walk past her to the hallway, pick up his duffel, and throw it over a shoulder. He left Charlie’s box where it was; he wouldn’t spread his ashes without Casey. As he headed toward the door Star stood from under the table and followed him. He crouched down, scratched her neck and ears, said a silent goodbye.
Then he stood. “I’m sorry, Case.” He didn’t specify for what, there was too much.
When she looked up at him there were no tears. In fact, he might have seen a flicker of relief. “I’m sorry too, Kyle.”
He turned to the door. He couldn’t look at her while he said his last words. “I love you. I always will.” He left so quickly then he had no idea if or how she reacted to that. He didn’t even give her the chance to say it back for fear she wouldn’t.
As he threw his duffel in the truck he noticed Mr. Foley standing on his front porch, hands gripping the straps of his overalls. Mrs. Foley was absent for a change, and Kyle was grateful for that. For the first time in his life he didn’t wave at Mr. Foley. He was too ashamed. Instead, he climbed in the truck, started the engine, and drove away. Away from the house, away from River Road, away from Potsdam.
He planned on making all the calls later that day, after he covered a few hundred miles. The calls to his dad, Mateo, Wyatt, Coach. Todd and the guys he still played hockey with once in a while… Basically all the people who would wonder where he went. But then he put it off for a day, and then another, dreading the idea of offering up some bullshit line— Casey and I thought maybe we needed time apart —when they would all be thinking the same thing, that Kyle had failed his family and now he was running away. He procrastinated until he knew he no longer needed to make the calls. Casey would have fielded those questions by then, and he told himself it was better that way. He had no interest in presenting “his side” of things. There were no sides here.
A couple of weeks later he called his dad, who was disappointed and distant. He texted Casey occasionally, always just one word— Okay? Initially she responded— Okay. But after three months she stopped responding at all. When she mailed divorce papers through his dad shortly after he arrived in Spokane, he figured they were officially done, his and Casey’s story had ended for good. He settled into a—kind of—life in Spokane then, decided to stay put, no longer feeling the need to push on. There was nothing pulling him back in the other direction now. He’d burned bridges in Potsdam, or at the least let them collapse, and he wasn’t eager to face everyone again. But occasionally he’d wonder if and when he’d go back, and what would bring him there.
The answer came two and a half years after he said goodbye to Casey and walked out of their house. One morning while sipping coffee on a work break he decided to finally check several voicemails that had been left by the same upstate New York number. He hit play, his finger already hovering over the delete button because he fully expected bot recordings. But, to his shock, the messages had all been left by a frustrated family liaison with the Canton-Potsdam Hospital, who was calling to inform him his father had suffered a stroke, and Kyle was needed back home.