Everything I have touched, I have somehow managed to lose. My mother . . . my father . . . Annie . . . Devan . . . have all left me. I cannot remember a time when I was not alone. During those few times, I have managed to screw those up. I get scared; I'm afraid that I'll lose Jordan. I'm afraid she'll go to Dallas and never come back. I know someone else will see what I see in her. It's become so much more apparent now that she's gotten her life together . . . now that she's moved on. I'm glad that she is leaving the past in the past, but I fear that I'm a greater part of the past than I want to be.
I bought coffee for her. I know how she takes her coffee. I've been waiting for her for fifteen minutes now. She said that she'd meet me here; she called early in the morning. There were errands to run; loose ends to finish tying up. I'd understand if she stood me up; I stood her up. I had my reasons, but that doesn't change my actions. I would understand if she left me waiting as I had left her waiting.
She looks beautiful. She looks healthy. She looks so much happier than I think I could ever make her. She looks free. I wonder when Jordan finally found a way to get herself together; I wish that I could figure that out for myself. I haven't gotten any sleep since . . . since I was at the site of the airplane crash. I know I don't look well. I know I don't look like I deserve to be here with Jordan.
"I got you coffee," I said as she sat down at the table I was waiting at. Even with her next to me, I still felt like I was waiting. I knew that was all of my own doing.
"Thank you. How are you doing?" she asked. She tried to smile. It's amazing what forty-eight hours can do to a person. She's composed; I'm falling apart. I wonder if she still feels bad about Devan; I know I feel like a small part of me is dying.
"I'm doing okay. I met Mrs. Maguire . . . Devan never told her about me," I said. I hadn't meant to be that forthcoming, but it was bothering me. Eddie said that Mrs. Maguire knew everything about Jordan . . . I was sleeping with her daughter and she didn't even know who I was. I hoped that I meant something more to Devan; it was selfish for me to want that . . . I didn't want her. It wasn't right; I wasn't right.
"She's a great woman . . . she had a great daughter," Jordan replied. She looked so composed. I don't know how she could ever say that about Devan; Devan's mission was to make Jordan as miserable as possible. I was proud of Jordan; she was handling everything so gracefully.
"You don't have to say that to make me happy," I replied. She smiled. I don't think she was being insincere.
"Are you okay?" she asked. I didn't know what to say.
"I hope so," I replied.
"I need to get to the Pogue. I need to tie up some strings before I leave," Jordan said. She hung her head; I know she didn't want to say it. I know she was trying to figure out how to say good-bye. It was okay; if I were her, I'd run from me.
"I really wish you would think about staying," I said. I really wanted her to stay.
"I have thought about it, but I need something more than some confused almost romance," Jordan replied. I knew what she meant; I knew what I couldn't give her.
"You deserve more . . . I heard about you and Nigel," I said. Those were the most convincing rumors. I saw the way he held her; I saw that way she smiled when he whispered in her ear. I wanted to make her happy like that.
"I see you still haven't learned what they say about assuming," Jordan replied with a smile. I could be such an ass. I was beginning to believe that maybe she would be better off with someone else; I heard Nigel say something about cowboys the other day. They didn't know that I was standing right there. Garrett said that there is nothing wrong with a Southern gentleman; she obviously had struck out with Midwestern men. I was never going to be a cowboy, and I knew that her friends would never approve of me again. I had screwed up. She was right about this constantly being an almost romance.
"He makes you smile like I could never make you smile," I replied.
"You can't think of the inappropriate things that Nigel says to make me smile," Jordan replied. She smiled; her eyes darted to the right. She was thinking about something happier; I don't think I was part of her memory.
"That's how he does it?" I asked. I was better at imagining the wonderful things that he could be saying.
"Woody, they are all rumors. I'm happy being by myself right now . . . I'm happy figuring out what besides work is going to make me happy," Jordan said smiling. I had never seen her so composed . . . so happy. It made me sadder. I made me sad that I was becoming unwound. I was slowly losing my composure; I couldn't find happiness outside of little mementos of days long gone.
"You are so beautiful," I said. I hadn't realized that I said that. Jordan smiled, but she didn't look convinced. My words had no right to convince her; my words were often careless. Lately, my words had been more hurtful than anything else. I had to remind myself; that it could have easily been Jordan's plane in the mountains. I knew that's what Nigel and Garrett were thinking when we were recovering the dead. Bug had made a comment similar to that; I had to walk away from him. I couldn't even begin to conceive the thought.
"I need to get going. Nigel is convinced that he is going to be able to bartend like Tom Cruise," Jordan replied laughing, "I have to go protect my alcohol."
"I'm sorry about the things that I said about you and Danny. I was way out of line; I'm sorry about . . . about everything," I said as Jordan stood up.
"Long since forgotten. Find something that's going to make you happy," Jordan said as she gathered her bag.
"Can I see you again before you leave?" I asked hopeful that she might even consider.
"Sure. I leave in a week. I'm going to work a few shifts, but I'll probably spend most of my time at the Pogue," Jordan replied.
"Do you have a place to stay?" I asked. She laughed at me . . . I guess that was my inappropriate question.
"I'm staying at Dad's house . . . I'll see you later, Woody," Jordan said as she walked away. I had never felt so empty. I cursed myself for my mistakes. I wanted to run after her, but I knew she was right . . . I needed to find something to make myself happy. I really wanted to believe that would be all it took, but everything was insignificant when it wasn't shared with Jordan.
Thinking that made me stand up quickly and hurry out of the coffee shop. People stared at me as I ran down the street. I searched for her at every corner. I looked through the crowds for her. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; I needed to find her. I needed to stop her from leaving me. I ran until my chest was sore and I could barely breathe. I found myself in front of the Pogue; at the time, I was more concerned about my inability to breathe. I felt like I was going to die, but I felt that way every time Jordan left me. I always felt like she left with a little bit of me.
"Woody, are you okay?" Jordan said as she rushed over to me; I was still gasping for air. She was carrying a brown paper bag. She must have driven; that's why I couldn't find her. I was sure that she would just think I was making an ass out of myself again.
"Don't leave . . . please don't leave me," I said in between huffs and puffs. She looked at me and smiled.
"First, try to take a few deep breaths. Come on in . . . I'll get you a cup of coffee," Jordan said as she unlocked the door.
"I don't want coffee. I want to make whatever this is right," I replied. My chest still throbbed. She looked worried; I wondered if I was confusing worry with pity.
"The coffee is going to help ease the inflammation in your bronchioles. Woody, this is right. Everything is really okay . . . it's six months, not six years," Jordan replied as she held the door open for me much like she had all those weeks ago.
"No, I can't let you leave. What if we don't have six months?" I asked as Jordan waved me over to one of the tables. She told me to sit up straight, stop talking, and take some deep breaths. It was the first time that I thought of her mortality; it was the first time that I had begun to imagine what Boston would be like without Jordan. It too would become an insignificant thing.
"Woody, I can't live a life of hot and cold. You can't love me one minute and push me away the next. It's not fair. Once you are ready for a commitment, we can give this a try again. I didn't want to have to say it this way. It would have been easier to sneak off to Dallas in the middle of the night," Jordan replied.
"Don't you understand that I'm afraid of you leaving me . . . everyone else leaves for something better. Do you have any idea what it's like to be afraid that if I let myself love you . . . you'll leave me," I replied. My voice was raspy; my lungs were still throbbing.
"Love doesn't come without commitment and fidelity," Jordan lectured.
"You'll go to Dallas and find someone better," I replied. I hoped that I didn't sound as whiny as my ears told me I did.
"It's not about better or worse . . . it's about a real relationship where both people live inside the rules. It's about not always being second best . . . Woody, don't make this harder than it needs to be," Jordan replied as she poured a cup of coffee.
"You were never second best . . . I always settled for what seemed safe . . . what seem at least plausible. From the day that I met you, I knew you could do better than me. I probably set myself up for defeat," I replied. I truly believed that; she could do so much better. She needed so many things that I wasn't sure that I could give her; fidelity, honesty, and a host of other things that I hadn't even thought of yet.
"Woody, let's not have this conversation. Let's just work on the future; let's work on salvaging whatever friendship there is left," Jordan replied. I could tell that she was getting fed up with conversation. She pushed a cup of coffee in front of me. Jordan didn't look like she believed what I was saying; I knew she probably had compared herself to Sam and Devan trying to figure out exactly where she was flawed. I wanted so badly to tell her that cosmetic perfection doesn't reflect internal goodness; Devan was as close to soulless as possible and Sam was nothing more than easy. They could never hold a candle to her intelligence, her drive, or her compassion. Besides that, Jordan had a beauty that I couldn't describe. It was something timeless and simple; she wasn't as fake looking as the other women.
"You're still going?" I asked. I knew I hadn't succeeded in my quest; I probably just appeared desperate.
"Unless there is some catastrophe that keeps me at home," Jordan replied. She looked like she regretted those words immediately after saying them. It would be selfish for me to wish for that.
"You'll at least keep in touch?" I asked.
"I don't know if that's the best idea right now," Jordan said. A pensive look was plastered on her face.
"Cowboys?" I asked.
"Not the football team, but Nigel has his heart set on me bringing one home . . . I don't really know if it's for me or him," Jordan said with a small laugh.
"Nigel?" I said laughing. I didn't want to fall back into our normal banter; it would make it hurt so much more when she left.
"You haven't seen his apartment . . . his spandex . . . I think his sexuality might be a little more open ended than most people's," Jordan replied. I had heard stories about Nigel's spandex and obsession with the mythical. I had seen how he fit in at the 'vampire' club.
"I don't think I ever want to get acquainted with his spandex," I said laughing. She would be gone in a week and I would only be left with these last few moments of comfortable banter. I would be left with the desire to follow her anywhere that she went. My momentary happiness would give way to the depression; it would be the same depression that I battled after coming to Boston . . . after Annie. It was a stupid way for me to figure out that I did love Jordan; I shouldn't be figuring this out when I was on the verge of losing her.
"Are you feeling better?" Jordan asked.
"Momentarily," I replied, "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you to, but this is something that I need to do for myself. I've never really been alone before . . . the stories about an endless string of guys isn't too far from the truth. I need to learn how to be alone," Jordan confessed. I knew that was something that I needed to do too, but it was so much easier to lean upon the nearest comforting shoulder.
"Just make sure that you are careful. Dallas is more dangerous than Boston," I lectured . . . I figured Jordan had heard this speech from Nigel and Garrett several times already, but it felt like the appropriate thing to say.
"I'll be taking classes and teaching classes. I don't think I'll have time to do much more than be a medical examiner," Jordan said with a slight roll of her eyes. She had indeed heard this lecture several times before.
"Make sure that you come back," I said softly. I dropped my eyes to the table; she was really going to leave me in a week.
"I'll come back," Jordan replied. I wasn't sure if she even believed that; I know I didn't.
I closed my eyes. I tried to imprint the image of her face in my brain. I wanted something to remember her by; I wanted to remember her this free and at ease. My mind began the countdown until she would get on a plane . . . seven days.