If I had known the ending was going to be so bad, I would have never opened the book. I reasoned this about my life several times. Today, I needed to take a cold hard look at where I was and what I had become. The storybook ending I worked to create was nothing more than a disaster. There would be no prince and there would be no princess. I would go home to an empty apartment; well, she would do the same, but without the added burden of having him as a boyfriend.
Two hours earlier, I found myself on bended knee offering up a diamond ring and my heart. It was about time I reasoned; we had been dating seriously for the better part of two years. I felt ready; it was the first time in a long time that I felt ready to let another woman in to my heart.
Sara smiled at me and gently shook her head. She said that she could never replace the woman I called out for in my sleep. I wanted to argue that she could at least make me momentarily forget, but I knew that would never be good enough for Sara. I knew that would never be good enough for any other woman. I paused to ponder which woman I called out for . . . the one that left me or the one that I never really had. I imagined it was probably the latter; it was always the latter. Sara got up from the table of the restaurant and quickly left leaving me frozen on my knee. I could hear the chatter around me; a lady at the table next to mine asked if I was going to be okay. The waitress felt so sorry for me that she said the meal would be on the house. I gathered my coat and quickly left the restaurant; I wondered how many women turn down men in their most vulnerable moment. I wondered how unique my situation was.
I left Boston five years ago. It wasn't too long after Devan died; I could never seem to get past her death. I didn't have many options in Boston. I would always love a woman I could never have and I would always feel badly for using Devan to replace Jordan. The guilt was enough to make me feel like I was going insane. Within two weeks, I had packed up my apartment and disappeared without a trace. I found myself in Milwaukee. It was close to home; it was close to the cemetery where my family rested. It didn't feel anywhere close to being my home. Home is right behind you. I wondered where the hell home was.
I worked as a homicide detective in a city that needed few detectives. The murders were simple . . . drug and gang stuff. Inside of two years, I had been promoted the lead detective in the department. The promotion was bittersweet since there was no one to celebrate it with. Until I found Sara, she was like a breath of fresh air. She was a kindergarten teacher; she was a red head . . . well, it was strawberry blonde. She was tall and slender; Sara didn't look like any of the Midwestern girls I grew up with, but then again I had changed so much from the chubby boy I had once been. I thought I loved Sara, but maybe I had used her to replace Devan and Jordan. Sara was a good girl and I had hurt her.
I still kept an eye on Boston. I would occasionally call Eddie; he was the only person that knew where I was. He would tell me about Jordan, Nigel, Garrett, Bug, and Lily. Those were the only people that I really cared to hear about. Jordan had a four year old daughter, Calleigh. Nigel was the father, but Eddie commented that the child never really looked like Nigel. Calleigh's features were much lighter and much softer. I sighed; Jordan had used sex as a means of solving cases before. I hoped that she hadn't went back to her old ways. Nigel was a doting father. Jordan and Nigel hadn't married; life had become too hectic after Max died and left them the Pogue to run. Eddie sent me a newspaper article. The Pogue was named the best Irish pub in Boston; Nigel and Jordan stood hand in hand behind the bar. They smiled. She looked beautiful; she looked happy. I wondered if she looked beautiful when she was pregnant; I knew she probably did.
Bug and Lily had gotten married three years ago. I sent a card. Eddie sent me the newspaper clipping. It was another event that I had missed. Garrett was still Garrett, but he had begun teaching classes at one of the local universities. Eddie said that he had become a good teacher . . . after a little prodding from Jordan. The clippings brought back so many memories. They made me smile. Sara often asked about the clippings; she asked about the people. She even talked about us going to Boston to meet my 'friends;' I told her that they weren't really friends anymore. Sara looked confused. She didn't know that I ran from them in the middle of the night. She didn't know that I never said good-bye. A friend wouldn't leave like that.
"Hoyt, is that you?" Eddie asked. He sounded groggy; I had forgotten that it was one in the morning in Boston.
"Eddie, I want to come back to Boston," I said. There was a slight falter to my voice; I hoped he wouldn't notice.
"There's a position in homicide . . . you'd only take that if you were a masochist," Eddie commented. I knew that taking that position would involve working with Jordan again. I didn't know if that was what I wanted, but right now, Boston felt like home and I really wanted to go home.
"I'll take it. I can be out there within the week," I replied.
"Are you sure?" Eddie asked. He sounded shocked and remarkably more awake. I had never told him about Milwaukee; he never asked. He probably thought that I had the fairytale; Eddie had no idea that I was standing in the ruins.
"I'm sure," I replied.
"Give me a call when you get into Boston. Wait . . . do you want me to see if I can find you an apartment?" Eddie said. He must have been desperate to get me out there; the person vacating my position must have been a complete disaster.
"I'll take just about anything in the eight hundred dollar range," I commented.
"Well, big spender . . . I'll see what I can do. Call me on Tuesday. I'll have more information for you by then," Eddie replied.
"Thanks," I replied as I hung up my phone. I pulled the boxes out of my hallway closest. I began to back up things that I thought were important enough to go to Boston with me. It didn't matter that it was midnight. It didn't matter that I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I just wanted to go home.