LISA

Two Months Later

Threading the thin, white rope around the wheel, I yank on it, seeing it move toward me on the pulley. I move over to the other wooden post I've cemented into the backyard and pull on that rope, as well, testing it.

I have no idea why I'm putting in clotheslines.

All I know is I'm running out of ideas. I already built a wooden picnic table with a built-in beer tub in the middle, stained it, and added benches. I've also put in a fire pit, a stone pathway leading from the back gate to the back door, mulch in the flower beds, torches around the pool, a pergola, a hammock, and a small pond with a rock garden. I keep moving from one project to another, so I don't have time to think about how I'm not using any of it. I'll enjoy it when I'm done, I guess.

"Looks different back there," I hear someone call out.

I look up, seeing Kyle Cramer standing on his bedroom balcony and looking down into my backyard.

Does this guy have a hard-on for me or something? Why's he always trying to talk to me?

"Got some time on your hands, huh?" he gauges. "I noticed it's been a lot quieter here the past several weeks."

I cast him another look, giving him a curt smile. Maybe if I acknowledge him, he'll leave me alone.

And yes, it's been quiet. Until now.

"So, um," he starts, and I silently groan. "I saw you and Jennie one night."

I stop and shoot my eyes up again, glaring at him. Heat rises to my neck at hearing her name. I haven't talked about her with anyone for months now.

"My kitchen faces yours," he explains, "it was late, and you two were at the sink."

My body warms, remembering that. The sight of her walking naked to the kitchen one night, and how I wouldn't let her get a midnight snack until I got mine. She was so beautiful.

I straighten, clenching my teeth. "You watched?"

"No," he blurts out like he would never. And then he shrugs. "I mean, I might have if you two hadn't eventually taken it to the floor and out of my line of sight."

He follows with a laugh, and if I could fucking fly, I'd be over this fence right now, strangling him.

He seems to notice my anger and tries to placate me. "Listen, I didn't mean to see anything, okay? You could try to stay away from the windows, you know?" He shakes his head. "I'm just saying, I think it's the first time I ever saw you smile. She certainly seems like she made you happy. I can't imagine she wouldn't make any man happy, actually."

"Shut the hell up," I mumble, bending down and picking up tools, dropping them into the small box.

Really? How could we have been so careless? He's the last person whose eyes I want on her.

"So, where'd she go?" he asks. "It didn't work out with you two?"

I ignore him, gathering my shit, so I can escape inside.

"How'd you fuck that up, man?" he laughs out, taking a swig of his beer. "You get a woman like that—young and hot with a body in that good a shape—you don't lose it."

I toss my wrench down, charging forward with nowhere to go. "I'm gonna kick your ass. Shut the fuck up."

"So, she's available now, right?"

"Son of a bitch," I growl.

He just snickers. I must be so amusing.

"You are definitely sad," he says. "Women aren't that hard to make happy if you have half a mind to."

"I'm not incapable," I snap. "But that's not the point. Teenage women belong with teenage guys, and don't you fucking forget it next time you run into one. She deserves someone her own age."

He nods, thinking. And then he pins me with a look. "So, your son was her age, right? Did he treat her better than you did?"

I breathe hard but stay silent. He gives me a smug half-grin and backs away, walking back into his house.

That's not the point, asshole.

Yeah, I can safely say her relationships with guys her own age weren't winners, either, but…

But what? I'm not going to be able to give her everything she wants? I'm not going to grow with her? I'm not going to start over and build a family anymore at my age?

Two months ago, those all seemed like viable arguments, but over time, they feel less convincing now. Like maybe who I am and where I'm at in my life isn't carved in stone. It can still be subject to change.

I shake my head. I don't know.

No, I did the right thing. It's been months, and I haven't heard from her. She's clearly moved on.

But God, I fucking miss her. It's like I'm constantly sick with hunger, but food won't satisfy me. There's an emptiness inside me that I can't fill on my own.

I pick up the tool box and turn toward the house, but when I look up, I see Haruro standing in the open back doorway to the house.

I halt. Jesus. How long has he been standing there?

The box dangles from my fingers as we just hold each other's eyes, and I'm completely stunned to see him here.

"I saw you at the graduation," he says, a hand in his pocket.

His graduation from boot camp was yesterday, and I'd been writing him and hounding his recruiter all summer for any contact. I had to see him, though. I couldn't miss it. It's a huge accomplishment.

Slowly, I drift toward him, unable to tear my gaze away. He looks incredible. Taller and bigger, a long summer at boot camp having tanned his skin and lightened his now buzzed, blond head of hair. He wears his green camouflage uniform with his hat in one hand as he leans against the doorframe.

"I just wanted to see you," I tell him. "I wasn't sure if you put me on the list or your recruiter did, but you didn't respond to any of my letters, so I wasn't sure you wanted me there."

After the ceremony ended, I wanted to talk to him, but his mom was there with her latest boyfriend, and he was joined by a couple friends who'd driven up to see him. I didn't want to ruin it, so I left. He'd have his cell phone back now, so he would see all the calls, texts, and voicemails. He'd let me know when he was ready.

He drops his head, scanning the ground in front of him. "I got all your letters. Thanks for the phone cards."

You mean the ones you didn't use to call me? I quirk a smile, not blaming him. It was a long shot, but I am glad he got everything. As long as he knew I was thinking about him…

"How are you?" I step up and set the tool box down, pulling the shop cloth out of my back pocket and wiping off my hands.

He's quiet and takes a deep breath. Finally, he raises his blue eyes to me. "Got a beer?"

I nod gently and lead the way back inside and into the kitchen. The air conditioning hits me, cooling the sweat on my back, and my nerves make it hard to breathe, but I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be when this moment came. He's not yelling yet, so that's a good sign.

I pop the tops of two Coronas, the late afternoon sunlight vanishing from the kitchen table as it dips behind some clouds.

He takes a seat, and I do the same. When he remains quiet, though, I realize the ball's in my court.

"So, are you happy?" I ask him. "In the military?"

I've had time to get used to the idea, especially after getting assurances from his recruiter, but I need to hear it from him.

"Yeah." He sets his beer on the table, keeping his fist wrapped around it. "I don't know—I guess it's what I needed. To be torn down and rebuilt better."

I wait for him to go on.

"I can't sleep in," he says, "I can't show up drunk, I can't call in sick because I'm feeling lazy that day…. It sucks, but I've also got a job and money in the bank. A career. That feels pretty good." He finally raises his eyes to me. "I've got a future, and for someone who never knew where the fuck their place was in the world, it's kind of nice to let the military decide for you and give you direction."

"You sure?" I lift the bottle, taking a drink.

I love that he's doing something with himself, but I also want to make sure he's carving his own path.

He goes on. "That's where Jennie and I never made sense. She knew her own mind, and I resented myself when I was with her, because I never did." He releases a sigh. "I wasn't her equal, never good enough for her. I would never be that strong-minded. Some of us just aren't."

My heart skips a beat at the sound of her name again, but I ignore it. I'm not confident that joining the military was really what he wanted to do with his life, but I am sure he wasn't finding answers in this town. At least he knew that much.

He was strong-minded enough to take that leap.

"You did this, didn't you?" I ask. "You made it through training. I'm proud of you."

I see his Adam's apple bob up and down, and the muscles in his jaw flex. He takes another drink, still not looking at me.

"So, where is she?" he asks, casting looks behind him to the living room like she's still in the house.

"I don't know." I shake my head. "She left after you did. I haven't seen her in two months."

His gaze snaps to mine, his brows furrowing in concern.

"I've talked to her sister," I assure him. "She's fine. Wherever she is."

He seems to accept that answer, because he takes another swig. But now I'm a little more unnerved than I was a moment ago. It's clear she hasn't kept in touch with Haruto, either. Not that I thought they would stay in contact after everything, but they were friends. Lifelines to each other at one point. The more ties she cuts, the less reasons she'll have to come back.

"You seeing anyone else?" he asks.

"Nah, not right now." I take another drink. "Just concentrating on the house and the business."

"Yeah, I ran into Jackson on my way into town, and he told me you guys are like two years ahead of schedule."

I chuckle. "Not that much…"

Although, we're doing damn well. You can get a lot of work done when you're not racing home every day to a woman who sets your body on fire.

"So, did she break it off with you or you with her?" Haruto asks, bringing up Jennie again.

I stare at him. I don't want to talk about this. I just want him to be okay. I want him to talk about anything else with me.

But mostly, because I'm not proud of my answer. If Jennie hadn't left, I would've kept her as long as she was willing to stay. I should've given her up for him, and I didn't. And I'm not sure I would've if she had left the choice up to me.

"I'm sorry," I tell him instead. "You'll never know how sorry I am."

His eyes are locked on mine, a flood of emotions I'm not sure I want to face crossing his gaze. Pain, disappointment, confusion, loneliness…. But also calmness, resolution, and acceptance.

"When I saw you at graduation yesterday, I wanted to still be mad at you," he says. "And I was aggravated that I wasn't."

He drops his eyes, the wheels turning in his head.

"There's something to be said about time and distance, I guess." He gives a sad smile. "You get a lot of perspective. A lot of time to think about things."

Yeah.

"When I was six," he goes on, "you lost a contract because you came to my Little League game that day instead. On my tenth birthday, you moved my party and paid for everyone to go to the go-cart place, because Mom and one of her boyfriends started fighting at the house and embarrassing the hell out of me in front of everyone. When I graduated high school, you took out a second mortgage to pay for my college which I just pissed down the drain."

My throat swells. He remembers all that?

"Doing what you could to make me happy, no matter the sacrifice, never seemed like a tough decision for you." He peers over at me, his voice thick with emotion. "So, I think, doing something you knew could hurt me, was definitely not an easy choice," he says. "I know you love me."

I grind my teeth together to keep my breathing even, and relief washes over me.

"I don't know how okay I am with all this, but…" He nods. "I know you love me."

I'm speechless. It's a little heartbreaking to look at your son and wonder if you had anything to do with how good he turned out. I can't believe he's sitting here right now when I wasn't sure he'd ever look at me again.

"Do you still love her?" he asks.

I hesitate a moment, searching for the words. Yes, I still love her, but… "She's better off," I tell him.

He leaves it there, not pressing further. "I have to be back tomorrow night. Is it okay if I stay the night?"

"Of course."

He rises, carrying his beer toward the living room with him. "The Twins are playing the Cubs tonight," he says. "You want to watch?"

I inhale a deep breath and release it, feeling like my body is relaxing for the first time in months. "Sounds good. I'll order some pizza."

"Cheese," he specifies.

I laugh quietly. "Yeah, I remember."

I take my phone out of my pocket and start to dial Joe's, but then I hear his voice.

"And Dada?" he says.

I look up.

"I love you," he tells me. "But no one's better off without you."

That night, I wake up to thunder rolling somewhere in the distance. I don't open my eyes, the weight of too many long days at the job site heavy on my lids. I turn on my side, knowing I'll fall back asleep if I give it a minute.

The inside of my right arm burns with the tattoo I got earlier tonight. Haruto and I decided to go to Rockford after the pizza and get those tattoos he mentioned. He chose an anchor in the middle of his back, accompanied by a compass and a fisherman's knot with the motto "Forged by the Sea" around it. It's all just outlined, though. He said he'll get it colored in after he's earned it.

I'm guessing that means after his first six months at sea.

The candle etched on my skin feels like it's actually lit, the smoke from the wick drifting up the inside of my arm all the way to my elbow. I've known since Haruto first mentioned tattoos two months ago that something that represents Jennie was the only thing I wanted on me for the rest of my life. The birthday girl and her wishes. She'll always be a part of me.

I inhale a long breath, and even though I've washed the sheets several times since she left, I can still smell her hair on the pillows.

And if I concentrate hard enough and keep my eyes closed, she's there next to me.

--

I snake an arm around her body, and pull her into me, burying my nose in her cool hair.

"Was I snoring?" she whispers.

I smile, trying not to laugh. "No."

She's so self-conscious, and it's adorable. I hug her to me, feeling so filled, because everything I need is in my arms right now. Her curves fit every inch of mine, and I'm whole. My chest fills with something almost too much to contain.

She breathes calmly, and I run my hand over her naked stomach, my body coming alive for her. So easily, like it always does.

Suddenly, her small voice pierces the quiet room again.

"You got me pregnant," she whispers.

I still. What did she say?

No, that can't be right. We've been careful.

When I don't say anything, she turns around and faces me, her guarded eyes on mine. "I missed my period last week," she says timidly. "I took a few tests earlier today. Best I can figure is I'm about a month along."

I close my eyes. Oh, my God. A baby?

My baby.

"I hope she has my eyes," she tells me.

I open mine. "Your eyes?"

"Well, she'll be a mix of both of us, after all," she explains, "and I want her to have your smile. It evens out, right?"

I touch her face. "You're sure? There's a baby?"

She nods. "I'm sure." She looks at me warily and asks, "Is that okay?"

I open my mouth, no words coming out. A baby? I picture myself waking up with an infant in the middle of the night, car seats, and cartoons, and I'm overwhelmed, but strangely, I feel...so fucking in love with her and the idea of her body growing with my kid.

But I wanted her to have choices. Does she really want this?

The only thing I know is that I want her. I want everything with her, and I wish, for her sake, it wasn't yet, but I wanted this eventually.

"I love you," I whisper. "I love you so much."

She exhales and smiles as if she were holding her breath that whole time, and climbs on top of me, straddling me.

"I love you, too." She kisses me, her naked body molding to mine. "I was so nervous. I didn't know if you'd want more kids, or—"

"Shh, baby," I tell her, kissing her and holding her face. "I love you. I just…" I pause and then continue, looking up into her eyes. "You're stuck with me now, aren't you?"

She gives me a little smile, and I take her ass in my hands.

"I've seen lots of bad love, Lisa," she says. "We both have, haven't we?" And then she does the barest of grinds on me, awakening my body immediately. "This is the good kind. When you find it, you keep it. Nothing is more important."

I grow hard as she moves against me, and I hold her face, staring up into her eyes.

"Do you love me?" she asks.

"I'll never stop loving you."

She dives in, kissing me and hovering her lips over mine. "Then I'm so lucky," she whispers. "We're so lucky."

I dig my hands into her and pull her closer, but there's suddenly nothing there, and I blink my eyes open, seeing that my arms are empty. It was a dream, and I can't slow my breathing. Whipping off the sheet, I sit up, swing my legs over the side, and bury my head in my hands.

"Fuck," I choke out, my forehead covered in sweat.

I'm still hard, blood pulsing through my cock, because I can still feel as much now as I could two months ago. I'd give anything to have her in my arms right now.

Standing up, I pull on my jeans and head out of the bedroom. I pass Haruto's room where he's asleep inside and quietly open Jennie's door. Her room's been closed up for eight weeks, and I'm overcome as soon as I inhale. She's everywhere, and I close the door and switch on the light.

Her Home Garden magazines lay at the bottom of her bed, and I look over to the desk, my eyes falling on its corner and remembering how beautiful she was that night. The boombox Jackson gave her sits on top, and I walk over, turning down the volume and pressing Play. I recognize Bruce Springsteen's I'm On Fire come out of the speakers, and I adjust the volume again, not wanting to wake Haruto.

Walking over to the bed, I sit down and listen to the song, looking around.

I can't get away from her, and I never want to. I thought I was in love with Rosé at one time, but I wasn't. It wasn't like this.

And I never even told her. She doesn't know that I love her.

I never thought I'd say this, but Cramer is right. I would've loved her with everything I had. She was it for me. I would've gone to any length to make her happy for the rest of her life.

But I blew it.

Looking over, I spot a jar sitting on her bedside table, the label on front reading Dreams. I reach over and take it, studying the few dozen little scrolls of paper, all different colors and tied with gold string, piled inside.

My heart thumps in my ears, not wanting to invade her privacy, but I need to know. I need to know her dreams don't include me or things I can give her. Her love clouds her mind. What she wrote here will be the truth.

Unscrewing the lid, I dump the scrolls on the bed and pick one up. I slide the string off, my stomach rolling with nerves as I unroll the first scroll.

Invent my own Christmas tradition.

I smile weakly, something like that sounding right up her alley. She's creative, and I'd love to see what she comes up with.

Setting it down, I pick up another one and pull it apart, reading it.

Drive a convertible with the top down in the rain.

Yeah, I can just see her dragging me out for something like that, trying to get me to have some fun.

Picking up another scroll, my smile falls, and my mouth goes dry, readying myself again to see something I might not like. The pulse in my neck throbs as I unroll it.

Have a library in my house someday. Built-in bookshelves, leaves blowing outside, and a cushy chaise with cozy blankets.

I dig in my eyebrows and drop the paper, quickly picking up another.

I wonder if I can get Lisa to stay in bed all day on a rainy day to watch movies.

I guarantee you, girl, watching movies won't be all we do if we stay in bed all day.

I unroll another. Ride in a hot air balloon.

My breathing quickens as I keep unrolling scrolls, one right after another.

Adopt a dog

How do you make your own beer? I'd like to try that.

Take my kids for trips to the lake in the summers.

Install a clothesline in the backyard of my future house. No one has those anymore!

I blink. I just installed a clothesline. She has that now.

I keep going.

Run a marathon.

Keep a blanket in the trunk for spontaneous picnics.

See a parade.

Learn how to make chili.

Go four-wheeling.

Swim in the ocean.

Fill Lisa's truck bed with blankets and pillows and go star-gazing.

I keep reading scroll after scroll, finally unable to take anymore and pushing them away.

"Fuck," I breathe out, my eyes stinging.

I can give her all this. Every single one of these things—her dreams, the life she wants—I can give it to her. All of it.

What did I think? She wanted wealth, power, and fame? What did she say on one of her first nights here?

I don't care about the wedding. I just want the life.

She wants a home. She wants people to love.

She wanted me to want her. That's all she wanted.

Tears I won't let fall spring to my eyes. "What the fuck did I do?"

--

I take a deep breath and hold it in as I grip the door handle to Grounders. I tried calling Irene, and I even went to The Hook again, but I can't find her. So Yeji it is, I guess. I'm sure this is a waste of time—the woman has hated me since she met me—but I'm desperate.

Pulling the door open, I step inside, music and the smell of fried food instantly swarming me. Yeji stands behind the bar with only three customers in front of her, and I look around the place, seeing a few tables filled but mostly empty. It's a pretty quiet Monday night.

I crack my neck, bracing myself as I step up to the bar.

She sees me instantly and stops drying the glass as her back stiffens. "Irene, can you serve this guy?" she calls.

I glance at the other end and notice Jennie's sister leaning over it. She must be covering Jennie's shifts while she's gone.

Her head rests in her hand as she talks to some patron, but as soon as her eyes lock with mine, she stands up straight, her smile falling.

Yeji starts to walk away.

"Wait," I say, stopping her. "I'm not staying."

"Good."

"I just—"

"I'm not going to tell you where she is," she cuts me off.

I see Irene watching us, and I take another breath, squaring my shoulders. "I just need to know she's okay."

"She's fine," she replies curtly. "And she'll be even better if she stays away from you and this town."

I move in, dropping my voice. "I need to see her. Please."

"You had her."

Her eyes are nearly covered by her long black bangs, but I can see the hatred in them well enough.

I don't want to bother Jennie. She's stayed away, and I haven't heard from her, so that tells me I think I did the right thing. She's doing fine, and she'll be happier.

But I'm not. This isn't over for me. You need your heart to get out of bed, walk, talk, work, and eat, and she took it when she left. I wasn't much before she came along, but what I did have inside me she left with. I'm fucking miserable.

"Please tell her…" I pause, admitting out loud what I was afraid to face. "That I love her."

Yeji doesn't say anything, and I can't even look in her eyes and see everything she's thinking that I know is true. I fucked up.

I'm about to leave when Irene moves in.

"It's been two months," she says to Yeji. "And she still looks like shit."

"That's not Jennie's problem."

"And we're not Jennie's keepers," Irene retorts. "She walked away once, she can walk away again if that's what she chooses. We don't need to protect her."

Yeji hesitates, shoots me a glare, and finally gives up, walking around Irene to the other end of the bar.

Irene turns to me. "Look, we don't know exactly where she is," she says. "She calls and checks in every few weeks. But she has a friend whose family runs some motel in eastern Virginia. She's been trying to get Jennie to come visit and even offered her a job there one summer." She hesitates and then shrugs. "Without a lot of money, I can't imagine Jennie has anywhere else to go."

Virginia. That's a twelve-hour drive. Would she have done that with the VW?

I guess if Irene says she's calling, then she's safe. And this is as good a lead as I'm going to get. Her fall classes start in a week, and if she were returning, she'd be doing it by now, wouldn't she? She'd want her things out of my house, and she'd need to figure out where she was going to live. Was she planning on coming home at all?

I need to find her. I can't wait.

I turn to leave but then stop. "What's the name of the motel?" I ask Irene.

But she just sighs. "Hmm, can't remember," she says, playing with me. "I guess if you want her bad enough you'll find her."

And then she walks away, pleased with herself that she's making it more difficult for me. I could call around, I guess, but if I do happen to find her, she might just hang up on me. I need to go find her.

I need to at least see her one last time and tell her that I love her and that she's everything.

And that I'm dead without her.