Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
NARDI
When morning arrives, I open my eyes leisurely. At first, I don’t remember where I am. And then it hits me.
Cullen.
I reach for his side of the mattress and, although he’d warned me, although a part of me had anticipated this is how he would go about it, I still groan when I find it empty. My fingers fist into the sheets where his body had been.
That bastard.
Biting back a curse, I wrap my naked body in a blanket and storm to the living area, hoping beyond hope that I’m wrong. That he’s in the kitchen, his back to me as he fries eggs in a skillet. His spiky hair wet from a shower, his silver eyes sparkling with the satisfaction of losing his virginity to the woman he loves.
He’s not in the kitchen.
I check his computer room next.
All the monitors are off. The desktop computer that’s usually glowing neon has gone dark. He must have plugged it out.
Seeing the forlorn stillness of his computers, my heart cracks in half.
I don’t need to visit any other part of the house.
Those dark, abandoned computers spell one thing.
Cullen is gone.
Numbness takes over me and I think about last night. About how tenderly he held me. About his reaching fingers and his desperate kisses. Every time I fell asleep, those kisses would rain on me again and tug me out of dreamland and back into his arms.
I lost count of the number of times Cullen drove me to the edge of insanity, refusing to give me a moment’s peace. Pushing and pushing at my defenses until I felt like I’d never catch my breath.
I wished he’d said goodbye, but when I think about last night, I realize that he did. All night, his goodbye lingered under his touch and tainted me with its darkness.
The emptiness seeping through my veins pushes the sensation of tears to my eyes, but I have no tears left. They’d all bubbled out of me last night.
The strength suddenly leaves my legs and I sink to the ground, clutching the sheet around me. A part of my brain still rejects that Cullen’s gone. So, when I hear the click of someone tapping on the keypad outside, I shoot to my feet.
Whirling around so fast, the bedsheet whips like an extravagant wedding train, I sprint to the door. It swings open and reveals…
My mother.
“Nardi?” Mom’s eyes widen. She takes one look at me wrapped in the bedsheet and her eyes double in size. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here? Where’s Cullen?” I crane my neck to look past her, searching the porch and the front yard.
“He told me to hurry over and gave me the passcode.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine and I tremble like a hurricane.
Mom’s expression shifts at the sight of me. “Nardi, honey. I think you need to sit down.”
Her voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere beyond me. I barely hear it.
“When?” I say hoarsely.
“Nardi…” Mom’s hands close around my shoulders.
“When did he call you? Fifteen minutes ago? An hour?”
“I-I’m not sure,” mom stammers.
I wrench the front door open and fly outside. My bare feet patter against the stairs as I desperately scramble to the front lawn. The sun burns my eyes and the wind blows through the trees, sending up a mocking applause.
Every step feels heavy. The sheet is dragging against the dew on the grass, getting muddy, collecting small twigs and burs.
I don’t care. I keep going.
“Nardi, stop. Stop! ” Mom scrambles in front of me, breathing hard. Her wrinkled hands flatten against my shoulders. “You’re scaring me, sweetie.”
“I have to find him.”
“Nardi.”
“I have to see him, mom. One last time. I at least need to see him one last time…” The last of my words ends on a sob.
Mom wraps me in her arms, hugging me tightly. “I’m sorry, Nardi.”
“He can’t just leave like this. He can’t.” Hot tears spill down my cheeks. “He has to come back. Please.”
Mom sniffs and her tears splash against my shoulder.
I pull away from her, my gaze wild. “Call him back.”
“Nardi.”
“I’m not asking for much. One hour will do. No, five minutes. I just want five more minutes.”
“He won’t answer.”
“You don’t know that!”
“He’s gone, Nardi.”
My bottom lip trembles. I reject her words, shaking my head.
“I know you, Nardi. I’m your mother. So I asked him. I asked him on your behalf to stay. Even if it meant watching him wither away.”
“No.” I stalk away from her.
She follows me. “Do you know what he said to me, Nardi?”
I storm into the house, into the bedroom where he held me all night, and I reach for my phone. Next to the device, I see a note.
I’ll do everything I can not to haunt you. Live well, Nardi. Live on. I love you.
No, I refuse to believe it.
I call Cullen’s number.
It goes to voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail again.
I call again. Listen to it ring.
Mom’s hand gently covers mine and she holds my palm over the phone. “He said life without you would be torture, but seeing him die would be worse than death itself.”
“No.”
“I’m so sorry. I really am. Everyone can see how much you love him, but this is what he wanted. This is how he wants to leave this world. There’s nothing you can do when a man makes up his mind.”
The cell phone stops dialing.
I spring up with hope. “Hello?”
A robotic voice chirps out, “Sorry, the person you are calling is not available… ”
Sorrow snaps out of my soul. A groan trembles through me, rising from somewhere deep and broken. I knew it was coming. He told me last night, but I still hoped for a proper goodbye.
In the background, I feel my mother guiding me. She turns me around and leads me to the guest room. I feel her lifting my hands and moving my legs to clothe me.
My mother leads me to the bathroom and I follow like a little lamb. She sits me on the toilet seat and wets a cloth. She gently wipes the mascara and smudged lipstick off my face. She takes a brush and runs it through my hair.
It feels like it’s all happening somewhere outside of me. I feel like a jar abandoned by its potter.
Empty.
So, so empty .
Mom tugs me to my feet and says gently, “The driver is outside.”
It hurts to see Roger again. He dips his head as if offering his condolences. What for? Cullen isn’t dead yet. He has more time. Wherever he is in this world, wherever he ran off to, he’s still alive.
I push myself to remember that as the days fly past. I work on my social media, growing my following and posting at least two cooking videos a day. With mom’s help, I sell food at my stall on Monday to Saturday, only taking a rest on Sunday.
Every night, I wait for Cullen to call.
He loves me. I know he does. He’s out there thinking of me right now. The distance will wear him down. He’ll let me hear his voice at least once. He’ll find some way to tell me that he’s okay.
The moment he calls, I’ll demand his location. Be it a hospital or the Bermuda Triangle, I’ll make my way to him.
But the phone doesn’t ring.
Cullen doesn’t call me.
In my anxiety, I start a list of all the cancer treatment centers in the city. There’s a chance Cullen left the state, maybe even the country—but I feel restless. Like I need to do something. It helps to know there are places I can investigate if I need to.
Sunny calls as I’m compiling my list of hospital names.
“Everyone’s coming to the farmhouse tonight. Do you want to join?” she asks.
I copy and paste the contact number of another hospital into my spreadsheet. “I’m not feeling that great. Plus, I have to post a video.”
“Oh, I saw one of your videos went viral. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I mutter flatly.
“You deserve it, Nardi. Your cooking is amazing. My mom is still upset with me for not letting you cater her birthday party.”
“Next time,” I promise woodenly.
“Yeah, next time.” Sunny goes quiet. “Nardi, you know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”
“I know.”
“How have you been?”
“Good,” I say.
“Define ‘good’.”
“I’m eating well. I drink lots of water and take my vitamins. I’m good.”
Sunny’s voice fills with relief. “Great. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Darrel will be too. You should mention it to him. Just in case Cullen calls,” I tell her nervously.
Sunny pauses. “Nardi, Cullen hasn’t reached out to us. We don’t know where he is either.”
My voice trembles. “But maybe he’ll call soon.”
“If he does reach out,” Sunny says patiently, “he’ll probably ask not to see you.”
It stings to hear, but she’s right. “Still…”
“Still,” she promises, “if I hear anything from him, I’ll let you know.”
“He doesn’t have to share details if he’s not comfortable.” I’m begging and I’m well aware I sound pathetic, but I don’t care. “Just knowing where he is, if he’s in a hospital, or in a computer lab or on a beach in Greece—anything will help.”
Sunny sighs. “Nardi, if you don’t want to talk to me, you can talk to Darrel.”
“I don’t need to talk to Darrel,” I snap. “I just want to know where Cullen is.”
Sunny goes silent.
“Are you sure no one has his location?” I glance at the list of hospitals and chew on my bottom lip. “What about Richard Sullivan? He’s Cullen’s business partner. Surely, they’d be in touch.”
“They’re not,” Sunny says quietly. “Cullen completed the handover of Cullen Tech to the new operators. Sullivan doesn’t have much interaction with the company anymore.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart banging against my ribs.
Sunny clears her throat. “Nardi, have you considered… maybe taking some time to yourself? Based on your social media, you’re going at life a mile a minute. Have you given yourself space to really prepare for what your next chapter will be?”
I think back to that conversation with Cullen, the one where I told him my dreams and he encouraged me to go for it.
“No. He’s probably watching me now. I want him to see what I’ll do after he’s gone. I want him to trust me that I’ll be alright. Maybe then, he’ll let me talk to him before…”
“Before he dies?” Sunny finishes for me.
My throat squeezes tight.
She continues gently, “I’m just worried you’re over-doing it. Forcing yourself to function as normal isn’t healthy. Not when you’re grieving.”
“I’m not grieving. Cullen isn’t dead yet,” I snarl.
“Three weeks have passed,” Sunny says gravely.
“He’s strong. He has a few more days left. I know it.”
“You’re right.” Sunny sounds like she’s conceding for my sake. “If I hear anything from Darrel or anyone else, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up with Sunny and try to keep typing. However, the words blur in front of me. I close my laptop and bury my face in my hands.
Everything hurts.
The more I try to push it down, the more it paralyzes me.
I miss Cullen so much that I’m riding on the edge of madness. Sometimes, I’ll close my eyes and it feels like he’s in front of me. Sometimes, I’ll remember his kiss and it’ll tug me back to the night we spent together.
But the moment always fades when I open my eyes and see… nothing.
Cullen isn’t here.
He will never stand before me again.
Just then, the door opens.
Mom and Josiah walk in.
I lurch out of my seat and walk over to the fridge. Pasting a smile on my face, I greet my little brother.
“How was school today?”
“Fine,” he mutters, eyes on his phone.
“And the programming club?”
“Fine.”
Without further explanation, Josiah walks into his room and closes the door.
Mom rolls her eyes. “That blasted phone. I’m going to toss it straight into the garbage.”
“Don’t do that. It’ll be like hacking off a limb.” I take ingredients out of the fridge.
Mom’s eyes widen. “Are you preparing for tomorrow already?”
“I’m going to film a video. My followers have been asking for a tutorial of stew beans and white rice.”
“But we’re serving white rice and split peas on the menu tomorrow,” mom says.
“We can add another dish to the menu,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mom grabs my hand. “Nardi, you film videos until midnight and then you edit them until three am. Not to mention you wake up at dawn to get ready for selling on the street.”
“It’s called a street stall, mom. I’m not selling on the street. That makes me sound like a drug dealer.” I try to move my hand away.
She holds fast. “You’ve been powering on like this for a week. This pace is unsustainable. You’ll burn yourself out.”
“I’m fine,” I argue. “And it’s not like I’m working hard for nothing. We’re making a ton of money from the food stall and my videos will be monetized soon.”
“Who’ll film the videos if you’re laid out sick? Who’ll sell at the food stall if you’re injured? Just because you can be strong doesn’t mean you should .”
“I’m fine,” I insist.
Mom opens her mouth as if she’ll argue and then she throws her hands up. “Be stubborn. Pass out from exhaustion for all I care.” She shakes her head.
“Mom,” I call.
She looks back.
“Have you considered what I told you? About moving?”
“Nardi, we are not moving into that man’s house.”
“Why not? We’re too cramped in this apartment. And I’m tired of sharing a bed. You hog the blankets.”
Mom rolls her eyes.
I insist, “You were complaining about my tiny dresser and the shoe-box of a closet, remember? Wouldn’t it be nice to have more space?”
“I don’t care if you want to move, Nardi. That’s your right as an adult. But not there. I will not watch you live as a ghost in that man’s house. Don’t bring it up again unless you’re planning to kick me out.”
Nostrils flaring, mom stalks off.
My fingers tremble and I sit at the small four-seater table, needing a moment to compose myself. I keep thinking about Cullen’s request for us to find a bigger house. He didn’t mention us living at his place either, but I don’t want to live anywhere else.
I want to be in the house he left behind. I want to run my hands through his clothes and sleep on the sheets that smell like him. I want to sit in that ratty old computer chair that a millionaire of his caliber should have thrown out long ago.
As I do in the moments when I can’t bear the silence and the pain any longer, I pull out my cell phone.
The phone rings and rings.
And then it goes to voicemail as it always does.
I wait for the beep before speaking in an upbeat tone.
“Hey, Cullen. I’m doing amazing today. This morning, I got a message from a really big social media influencer. He wants to do a collab. And a Caribbean dancehall artist liked my stew oxtail video. The results from social media are coming fast. My follower count exploded since the viral video I mentioned last time. I have tons of messages in my inbox from people asking me to cater their parties. Our line at the food stall is so long the cops gave us a warning.”
The phone beeps, reminding me I only have a few seconds left.
“I’m doing amazing without you. My life is absolutely perfect and I did it all on my own. I haven’t even touched the credit cards you left me. So…” I scratch my nail against a smudge in the table. “I just thought you should know. If you were wondering about me. I’m doing great. I’m being brave like you wanted me to.”
The voicemail tone beeps.
I chew on my bottom lip, my heart hanging to the ground.
Suddenly, a voice says, “Why did you lie?”
I spin to find my little brother staring at me.
“Josiah, what…” I wipe at the tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen, “do you need something?”
“I was hungry.”
“Oh. Let me warm up some rice and beans for you.”
“Nardi.” His soft tone stops me in my tracks.
I look at my brother, noticing the worry tightening his lips.
Josiah meets my eyes, and I notice that he’s on the verge of tears too. “You’re not going to leave too, are you?”
“Me? No, no. I don’t like space. I’d rather stay on earth.” The lie makes my lips tremble.
“I know Cullen didn’t go to space,” Josiah says. His voice is a mere whisper so it takes me a second to realize what I’ve heard.
“What?”
“I’m eleven. I’m not stupid.” He sniffs angrily. “Mars is still millions of years away from being habitable for humans. We don’t have the technology to recycle air or water.”
I guess there’s no hiding from a genius like Josiah.
“Cullen lied to me,” Josiah says.
“It wasn’t Cullen’s intention to lie,” I explain to my brother. “I think… he just didn’t want you to be hurt.”
“I know.”
“That was nice of you to pretend for his sake.”
Josiah comes to stand directly in front of me. “Nardi, I won’t pretend for you.”
Shocked, I stare at my brother. “What do you mean?”
“I heard you crying in the bathroom the other night.”
My lashes flutter. I thought that the shower could muffle my sobs.
“You keep vomiting too.”
I glance away. “Only a few times.”
“I looked it up. Sometimes, if you force yourself to eat, the food won’t stay down.”
“It’s nothing you have to worry about.”
Josiah lifts his chin. “Cullen asked me to take care of you. He said even if you told everyone you were fine, that I would know if you really are or not because I’m the closest to you.”
His words snatch away my voice. I grip the underside of the table to steady my emotions.
“Dying slowly is still dying. That’s what Cullen said.” Josiah sticks out his pinkie, “Promise me that you won’t die like Romeo did for Juliet.”
“I won’t. I promise.” I link my pinkie with Josiah’s.
My little brother pats my shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I missed him too?”
My heart stutters as I nod. “Yeah, it really would.”
“Cullen was my hero and my friend.” Josiah smiles sadly. “I really want to make him proud.”
“You will, Jos. I know it.” I force a watery smile. “Hey, did you send him your video?”
“I did.”
“Did he… respond to you?”
Josiah shakes his head ‘no’.
My shoulders sag.
Josiah pats my back again. “We’ll be alright, Nardi. I’ll take care of you and mom.”
I smile at my little brother who sounds like a fifty year old. “Right now, all you need to take care of is your homework.”
Josiah scowls at my command. “Someday, I’ll have a company like Cullen Tech, and I won’t have to do homework anymore.”
And there is the eleven year old I know and love.
“Until then, homework is non-negotiable.” I give him a little shove. “Buh-bye. I’ll bring you a plate in a minute.”
He rolls his eyes but obediently scampers back to his room.
I sit in the silence and realize that there’s a smile on my face.
Maybe Josiah’s right.
Maybe I will be okay.
For a few days, I’m in a great mood.
Even mom comments on how different I seem.
But grief is a wicked and sly monster. Just when I think I have a handle on it, just when I think I’ll be strong and make it through, it crashes into me like a wave. It destroys the walls around my heart like they’re sandcastles.
My eyes linger on the X symbol in my phone’s calendar.
That date was two weeks ago.
The smile I thought I’d rescued sinks back into the depths. Each step is labored. Each breath rattles through my lungs.
Time stretches to a crawl.
I hear each tick of the clock.
I’m on edge all day, waiting for news, for a call—from Cullen or from the hospital. Any one will do.
There are none.
I text Sunny and then I text Darrel.
Neither of them have heard from Cullen.
I ask Sara to text Asad and Dr. Young under the guise of bringing Cullen Tech lunch as I’d promised after they helped at the school.
None of them have any clue where he is.
Sara, in particular, bursts out crying at the very mention of his name.
I give up and tear through the packet Cullen left me until I find Richard Sullivan’s number. At first, he has no idea who I am, but the moment I mention Cullen’s name, he comes alive.
“Oh, you’re Cullen’s girlfriend,” Sullivan says.
“I’m so sorry to bother you but… by chance, have you heard from Cullen?”
“I haven’t.” He clears his throat. There’s a brief, emotional pause before he says, “I’m sorry, Nardi. Cullen was getting worse. That day at the party, he admitted that he’d coughed up blood.”
“I…” My throat bobs. “I didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t something he wanted you to be aware of.”
“Are you saying… he could have already…”
“If he hasn’t reached out by now, that’s a possibility to consider.”
I hang up on Sullivan, sure that he’s wrong. Cullen would never get to this point without leaving a message for me. A letter. An email. Something . He wasn’t a figment of my imagination. He didn’t just blip out of existence. He’ll reach out to me.
There’s no energy left in me to open the food stall or film a video. All day, I compulsively check my phone. Mom tiptoes around me, taking over most of the duties of cleaning, picking up Josiah from school and going grocery shopping.
My heart rises each time my phone rings, only to sink when it turns out to be someone other than Cullen.
I stay up until midnight.
Sometime after three a.m., I fall asleep and it’s the sound of a door bell ringing that wakes me hours later.
A tall, thin man stands outside my apartment, dressed in a suit. My mom stands behind me, watching the man with suspicious eyes.
“Can I help you?” I croak.
“Ms. Nardi Davis?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Whitaker Davenport. I’m here to carry out the last intentions of Mr. Ronan Cullen.” He hands me an envelope. “This is a letter for you, ma’am.”
I take it. Cullen’s signature is on the front. The paper is so light and yet it feels like I’m holding an anchor.
“W-what is that?” Mom points outside.
“It’s a new stove.” Whitaker arches a brow. “There are a series of purchases Mr. Cullen wanted released to you. This is the first.”
I step back.
Mom stares at the stove. “We don’t have space for a stove that big.”
I’m backpedaling, hearing nothing but the term ‘wanted’.
As in past tense.
As in he’s no longer with us.
“That won’t be an issue,” Whitaker says. “If it doesn’t fit the space, we can exchange it for another.”
As mom steps back to admit the delivery man, I sink into the couch. My heart is slamming against my sternum and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.
In my mind, Cullen isn’t gone. He doesn’t feel gone. Wouldn’t I know? We were so connected. I love him so much. Wouldn’t I sense that he wasn’t with us?
Heart in my throat, I open the letter and see only one line.
To Nardi,
Please make my New Year’s wish come true.
Tears fill my eyes. All the strength I thought I had, all the promises I made to mom and Josiah, all the lies I told about how ‘fine’ and ‘okay’ I was, come crumbling down.
The truth knocks into me like a freight train speeding down a track.
He’s gone.
Clutching the letter to my chest, I rock back and forth and weep.