Chapter Thirty-seven
Dallas
Asher and I head upstairs. He has to change, and I have to… get the fuck out of here.
“He’ll be okay, you know,” Asher says. “He was little when we found out about his peanut allergy. This is the third time it’s happened. Marti always has an EpiPen with her. Always.”
“It’s my fault. All her shit spilled out of her purse during the accident. When I went to look for her phone, I just stuffed whatever I could find back into her purse.” I lean into the corner of the elevator, feeling the walls close in on me. “Jesus, he could have died.”
“Stop right there, man. I’m guessing you had no idea about his allergy. There is zero chance you would have known to look around her floorboard for an EpiPen. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I didn’t even think to ask Anita for the one they would have had when I picked him up and brought him back here. You want to blame someone, blame me.”
I steady myself on the wall, shaking my head over and over. I hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t help one goddamn bit. The boy had hives all around his mouth. His face was swollen. His fucking lips were turning bluer with every step I took. It’s all I could do not to go bat-shit crazy.
When we reach the rooms, he lets me into Marti’s. “You’re not coming to the hospital, are you?”
“I think Bex and I need to head home.”
“She’ll be gutted.”
“Charlie is okay, that’s what matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“If that’s what you really think, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”
I put Bex’s leash on and gather his things. “Tell her… tell her I’m glad he’s okay. Charlie seems like one hell of a kid.”
“He is.”
I hold out my hand. “It’s been a day.”
He shakes, disappointment all over his face. “It’s been nice meeting you, Dallas. Even if you’re being a stupid motherfucker.”
“That I am,” I tell him as I lead Bex out of the room. I close the door and look back at it one last time. “That I am.”
~ ~ ~
The drive back to my cabin takes longer than the drive out. Not because of the weather, but because I have two panic attacks on the way home. I have to pull over and let them pass.
I’ve never had a panic attack before. When the first one hit, I was sure I was having a heart attack. I was close to calling 911, but figured what would be the point? I’ve just walked away from the only good thing in my life in two-and-a-half years. To what—go back to my pathetic existence?
Pulling up to my cabin, I turn off the engine and stare out the windshield. The place looks different somehow. Smaller. Emptier.
Stepping inside, my eyes go straight to the bed. It’s still unmade, and I’ll bet it smells of her. Her and sex. I walk over to see the bracelet right where she thought she left it. I run my finger across the initials, contemplating putting it in my pocket. But I don’t. It’ll still be here tomorrow.
I look at the kitchen and see her making a meal. At the table, I can picture her laughing.
The couch reminds me of the hours and hours she’d read to me.
I don’t even have to enter the bathroom to imagine her taking a bath and touching herself.
She’s everywhere.
And I know I can’t stay.
Before, this place was my solace. The spot I needed to hide away and exist in all the nothingness. But then Marti happened. And I no longer want the nothingness. She’s right. I need people.
It’s too cold in here, and not just because the power is out.
I load as much wood as I can into the fireplace to keep the cabin at an acceptable temperature until the propane comes, then I slam the small wrought iron door shut with my foot. Hard . I’m not sure why I’m pissed at it specifically, but I’m pissed at something .
I stuff some clothes into my backpack, get Bex’s bag of food, and go back to the truck where Bex awaits, still inside, as if I already knew I wouldn’t be staying.
Before starting the engine, I look at Abe the snowman. He still wears the scarf I gave to Marti. He probably always will. That is until he’s a pile of mush and the piece of fabric lies on the dirt.
I’m glad I won’t be here to see him melt. It would be like seeing… ah, hell, I need to get the fuck out of my head.
I drive another fifty miles to the only hotel around, get a room for Bex and me, then walk next door and buy a bottle of tequila. When the bottle is half empty, I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Bex jumps up and stretches out next to me. I give him a pat when he puts his head on my chest.
“It’s just not the same, buddy.” I close my eyes and let sleep pull me under.
~ ~ ~
I float down the flower-lined aisle toward the altar. Phoebe’s back is to me, but she’s still beautiful. Her gown is all buttons and lace and fits her like a glove. I can’t wait to peel her out of it later. A veil covers her head, but I just know her hair is down and flowing over her shoulders, just the way she knows I like it.
Why is nobody here? Am I that early? As I approach, however, I see one person occupying a chair in the front. It’s DJ. He’s got a huge smile on his face.
“You look handsome, Dad.”
I cock my head and study him. When did he get so darned old? Kids grow up so fast these days. It seems like just yesterday he was six months old and I was bouncing him on my knee.
I reach Phoebe. She turns to me, but I still can’t see her through the mesh of the veil.
She takes my hands in hers. “You saved me. You saved him.”
DJ hops off the chair and runs over, hugging us both.
But when I look down, it’s not DJ. This boy has hazel eyes and dark hair with a cowlick on one side.
“I’m so happy, Dad.”
Confused, I look up at Phoebe, who’s no longer wearing her veil. In fact she’s not wearing a wedding dress at all. She’s in a Yale hoodie. And… she’s not Phoebe. She’s Marti.
“Wait… no,” I say, backing away from them. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
When I turn to run, Phoebe is sitting in the front pew holding our infant son, running a soothing hand over his platinum-blond hair.
She looks up at me. “You can love them,” she says. “You can love them and us. That’s the great thing about love. There is an endless well of it in your heart. An infinite capacity. It can never become too full.” She stands, DJ in her arms, and she walks away from me. There’s a cloud behind her. A light that resembles the glow of a fire. Before she walks into it, she turns once more. “The well will never run dry, Dallas.”
I step toward them. “But… you said I could never replace you. You asked why I saved her and not you.”
“No. That was you. You said those things. It was all you, Dallas. We have to go now. And you need to let us.”
“I can’t. I can never let you go.”
She smiles brightly, as luminescent as the fiery hue behind her. “We’ll see you again. On DJ’s birthday. On mine. Until then, my love, go fill your well. Fill it as full as you can and then fill it some more.”
She turns, DJ in her arms, and they both disappear into a wall of flames.
I spin back to the altar, but it’s gone too. My arms grow heavy. When I look down, I’m holding DJ, but he’s older. No, not DJ. Charlie.
“I love you, Dad,” he says.
I jolt awake, sweat running off my temple. Because… What. The. Fuck.