Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
NATALIE
Well, shit.
My heart wobbles before it sinks at the sight of Gabe’s empty driveway.
Despite my nerves about just showing up on his doorstep after seventeen hours of silence—not that I’ve counted—it’s only the thought of seeing him that kept me together on the drive from the pond. Imagining burying my face in the wall of muscle that is his chest, inhaling the spicy orange scent of his skin, and feeling the tickle of his beard against my cheek.
I know he’ll tell me everything will be okay. That they’re a bunch of asshole losers who don’t appreciate how lucky they’ve been to have me. And now that he’s been around the kids for a bit, I’m certain he’ll know that they don’t deserve to be treated like this either, don’t deserve to have their teacher snatched away at the last moment and have a new person take charge just before their biggest, most anticipated performance of the year .
But he’s not here. And I can’t even think where he might be. Maybe getting groceries? It’s not like he knows anyone else in town.
Or maybe he just put his SUV in the garage.
I bring my Jeep to a stop on his driveway and turn off the engine. In one motion I unclick the seat belt with one hand and swing open the door with the other.
My foot slips as soon as I step out, the snow on the driveway having turned to thick ice.
“Jesus.” I grab the open car door to steady myself before swinging it shut, and take more care with my footing as I make my way to the porch.
The house feels empty, no signs of life, and despite losing hope that there’s any chance he might be here, I ring the bell anyway.
Nothing.
I cup my hands against the frosted glass panel alongside the door. Not even the slightest movement inside.
Fuck.
My sleeve catches on something as I pull back, and a piece of white paper flutters to the doormat.
An envelope.
It must have been wedged in the door and I hadn’t noticed in my frantic effort to find Gabe.
I pick it up and turn it over.
Natalie .
What the hell?
I yank off a glove with my teeth and rip open the envelope.
A piece of paper folded into three.
With writing on one side .
Dear Natalie,
I’m so sorry to say goodbye this way. But you’re right. I don’t have the courage to tell my parents I don’t like Christmas. And I don’t have the courage to tell you that I’ve had to go back to New York.
My head spins, the words in front of me blur, and I have to lean back against the door to keep myself upright.
My eyes strain through the haze to make out the next part.
I’ve been given a clean bill of health to rejoin the team. They want me back for the game on Wednesday.
I came to see you yesterday evening to tell you. But I saw you outside the theater and you looked so happy. So full of that joy you have for life and the kids and the Christmas play. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look into your beautiful eyes and tell you this is over. That whatever this thing is that we had, this thing that’s made me feel even more alive than I do on game days, has to be over.
I’m too weak to be able to watch my words hurt you.
And that makes Wyatt right. I’m not good enough for you. You’re a ray of sunshine. And, deep down, I’m really who you thought I was that first night—a dark cloud, a walking downer who’s better off getting close to no one and just focusing on whacking pucks around a rink.
I thought you’d probably come here to look for me. So I wrote you this note.
My stomach twists so hard I could throw up, and I’m so lightheaded and in fear of keeling over that I slide my back down the door until my butt comes to rest on my heels.
By the time I’m free to come back up here you’ll be gone. Starting your amazing new life down south. Meeting new people. Filling their lives with fun and learning and meaning. And meeting someone who fills your life with meaning too.
I came to Warm Springs wanting to get away from everyone. But you blasted into my life like a firecracker in a bunny suit. And you made me want to get involved. Made me want to be someone I didn’t think I was.
The rocklike lump expands in my throat as my eyes brim with tears, the words becoming fuzzy again. I sniff and refocus.
You’re full of joy, but I’d just bring you down.
And I wish you’d realize how amazing you are. You don’t need to go around pleasing people and trying to make them happy to get them to like you. Everyone likes you because you’re you.
So if you ever need to stand up to someone, you should do it with no fear of not being liked.
You’re so smart, and beautiful, and driven to make people’s lives better that you can’t fail to succeed.
Thank you for making my life so much better than I ever thought it could be this last week.
I know you’ll find your own Sir Percival before too long.
Just make sure he really fucking deserves you.
G.
I let my head fall forward, and two giant tears splat onto the note, slowly spreading the ink.
Then something else rises inside me, overpowering the sadness and the heartbreak.
A hot streak of frustration .
If Gabe were here in front of me right now I’d shake him or beat my fists on his chest or grab him by the beard and kiss him till he saw sense.
I take the letter in both hands and hold it up in front of my face.
“Who are you to tell me how I should act and behave? You won’t even be honest with your parents! You lost the one friend you have. And now you’ve pushed me away too. You can’t live life alone like this. You can’t.”
I get to my feet and wipe my eyes on my coat sleeve.
The decorations on the front lawn look so pathetic now. The daylight and emptiness of the house shows them for the bad joke that they are. The organ-grinding monkey is paused mid-grind with his grinning mouth wide open. There’s bird poop on the zebra’s red sweater. And one of the elves has fallen on its side and is lying there, staring up at the cold blue sky.
Might as well pack everything up while I’m here. He never wanted it anyway.
I shove the letter into my pocket and stomp over the frozen snow on the lawn.
“If you want to go around giving advice,” I yell at imaginary Gabe as I yank one of the other elves out of the lawn and lay it next to the fallen one, “you need to prove you can make good decisions about how to deal with people yourself first. Turning yourself into an island. An island of Grump. Grump Island. That’s no way to live.”
I grab the next elf. “Mr. Miserable Grump on Grump Island full of grumpiness and living off meals of nothing but grump and fries. That’s you.”
This elf won’t shift. Its spike is stuck in the ground.
“How dare you tell me how to stand up to other people when you won’t even take a stand with your mom and dad about Christmas?”
I tug harder. The elf shifts a tiny bit.
“Just because you gave me the best orgasms in the history of the orgasm universe doesn’t give you the right to?—”
And the spike shoots out of the frozen earth, the sudden release propelling me backward.
And I lie there in the snow, winded.
The second time I’ve landed flat on my back on this front lawn.
But this time I’m not gazing up at Gabe’s beautiful face.
This time I’m looking up at a cloud that’s just drifted across the sky, an elf lawn ornament in my hands. A goodbye letter from him in my pocket. An ache burning inside my bruised heart. And the winter air chilling my damp cheeks.
A single snowflake drifts down and lands perfectly on the end of my nose.
Then, suddenly there are more. Floating onto my face, tickling my skin, melting into my tears.