"June?" A voice called, softly rapping on the door even though from the sound she could tell it was already open.
Her eyes fly open. She must have slept eventually, though she feels as if she spent the majority of the night tossing and turning.
Anden was standing in the doorway, a couple of mugs in his hands, "I brought you coffee." He said this simply, walking over to their bed. June sat up, running a hand through her mussed hair before accepting the mug Anden handed to her. She had not taken the time to think about what this morning would be like, too many other things had clouded her mind the previous night, but even if she had, she would never have guessed that this morning would include hot beverages being brought to her in bed. One sip and she could tell it was prepared exactly how she liked it. Anden, always the gentleman even after a night of shouting their throats hoarse. Perhaps all was forgiven? June isn't sure if that's good or bad. Last night's realizations weighed heavy on her heart but she was so comfortable with Anden. Second-rate version or not, this had become her life and he was an integral part of it. She hadn't quite made up her mind about what she wanted…to make up or give up? Now he sat next to her, drinking his coffee quietly, before clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry I called you selfish," he said not looking up from his mug, "you're right. I never asked you what you wanted. I assumed—"
"Anden," June cut him off. Her words last night had been said in anger. She didn't want Anden to feel at fault for the misery that had only been caused by her own duplicity. She moved closer to him, resting a hand on his wrist, "don't. I kept what I wanted from you."
Anden nodded solemnly, "I thought about it a lot last night and I don't think you're against marrying me because you're selfish. You made that decision for my sake."
June squinted at him, unsure where he was going with this.
"Your feelings for me are not commensurate with my feelings for you," he said speaking with the same grace he did at Senate meetings or national addresses, "so to agree to marry me feels deceitful to you."
"Anden, I…"
June began to speak but soon found herself at a loss. Anden had already said what she had been trying futilely to put together into a cohesive sentence. She loved Anden. But not as wholly as he loved her. So much of herself had been given or worse, taken, away. Deep down she knew Anden deserved more than what she had left to offer. To marry him would be to lie about her feelings. She would be deluding him, betraying him. She cared about him too greatly to subject him to that.
"June," he started slowly, " do you think that if… things had been different… that you would still be here?"
It took June a long time to answer. She knew what he was really asking. She knew she would finally have to look him in the eye and tell him the truth. About if Day had remembered; if he had stayed.
"No," she said already feeling the tears prickling the back of her eyes.
Anden gave a hard nod. She noticed the way he cleared his throat and furiously blinked away the moisture that had begun to well in his own eyes. But her words stung her just as bitterly as they did Anden. She'd built a life, which she only had to say yes to. Bit by bit Anden had filled her emptiness but she couldn't help but feel that in her haste to satiate the hunger within her she had deceived herself just as much as she had Anden.
His eyes spot the necklace still sitting on the bedside table.
"June, I don't want to hear that you still love him. But if that's the truth I need you to tell me anyway… it's okay."
"No it's not…He didn't know me. If he had remembered and then decided that he couldn't get past the things I'd done and decided to leave. It'd be so much easier, because it'd be clean and settled and I would know. But the way things happened…," June can feel herself starting to lose control and she's glad that Anden has a good enough heart to wrap his arms around his girlfriend even as she tells him how heartbroken she is over another man, "it's like a broken bone that didn't heal right and it just aches. Everyday it aches. And you try to ignore it and eventually you get so good at ignoring it that you think it can't hurt you anymore… and that's when the pain hits you like a freight train."
"When I bring up marriage, that's like a freight train isn't it?" Anden asks hesitantly.
She nods into the crook of his neck, trying not to be embarrassed about the tears running down her cheeks and onto his shirt. They rarely openly displayed hurt in front of each other. They had both lost so much it felt counterproductive to dwell on it. They had tried to hide hurt from each other. After everything they'd been through it felt like a failure to acknowledge that things still had that kind of power over them. Their relationship was all relaxed evenings at home, lazy mornings stolen from their busy work schedules, romantic weekend getaways, passionate arguments…but never this brand of emotional purging.
Anden shook his head,"I wish I could be mad at him, but I suppose it's not his fault."
"Sometimes I'm so jealous of him, that he got to forget and I…," June trailed off. She felt so guilty about the things she'd done to Day. The pain she brought to someone she loved. It had been wiped clean and she chose to keep it that way. But now she had been left with no chance of forgiveness or redemption. Just suffocating self-reproach concealed beneath layers of insubstantial gratification masquerading as genuine fulfillment.
"But I suppose that's not his fault either," she finished lamely.
"Did you ever… what… what was this to you?" Anden implores. He wants to know that it was real. That she didn't just close her eyes and think of Day. That she had wanted him, on some level.
"Anden I love you, but it's not the way you deserve."
"Don't say that," he interjects.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to be sad anymore and you made me so happy."
The words are barely out of her mouth when his crashes into hers. His fingers tighten in her hair as he kisses her. She returns his affectionate touches, allows him to lay her down, her head resting on one of their soft, full, pillows. He wants to remind her, prove to her why they work together. She so wants to lose herself in the familiar heat of his skin on hers. Each firm movement of his mouth against hers reminds her of what a consistent presence Anden has been for her in the four years they'd been together. The two of them had helped to fill the places in each other left empty by loss. Together they'd learned that life always goes on, as long as they were still breathing there was hope that things would be good again. But maybe they'd reached the extent of what they could learn from each other.
Anden pauses, noticing her distraction. He sighs and leans his forehead against hers.
"I need you to be honest with me; what do you want June?" He asks.
"I want to stop making you believe I'll ever be able to give you the things you want," she says solemnly.
Anden winces as if something hurts, then rolls off her, letting his own head fall onto the pillow next to her as if in defeat.
"I don't need those things," he replies staring at the ceiling.
"Not needing something doesn't stop you from wanting it."
"It does when there's something you want even more."
Neither of them responds immediately. Rather they both let Anden's words sink deeply into their flesh and into their blood where it can travel to their hearts. Is this relationship worth it?
"What now?" June whispers.
"Well the way I see it we have two options. I could leave now, go to my meetings, and when I walk back through that door we'll both forget this ever happened," he takes her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles, "We'll go back to our lives, I'll never ask about marriage or children again. It's all in the open now, you don't have to feel like you're lying to me," he pauses, "Or I could take the day off, help you pack your things, and you can move back to that apartment I know you still have."
A chortle escaped her lips hearing that. She'd fancied herself pretty clever hiding the fact that she'd never gotten around to selling her old apartment. She stopped by on it every now and then to make sure nothing was amiss and had the bills for its payments sent to her work office rather than her and Anden's home. She'd never have guessed that Anden was privy to that particular secret.
"Thought I'd missed that didn't you?" He asked good-naturedly despite the seriousness of their conversation. He gets up off the bed, adjusting his clothes. She already misses having his familiar form lying beside her, so she sits up and lets her feet hit the bedroom floor. Anden moves to her side of the bed.
"What do you say June?"
She looks up at his composed face, he's braced himself for whatever she's about to say. She yearns to tell him what he wants to hear but she just can't not with Day's face still burned into her memory.
"I think it's time to say good bye," she says in a measured voice.
He nods and takes a deep breath. He turns away from her for just a moment. When he turns back he extends a hand to her. She takes it somewhat confusedly. But then he shakes her hand and says, "In that case, it's been a pleasure sharing my life with you these past four years."
"Likewise," she says returning the shake with the cordiality and professionalism of mere acquaintances.
They spend the morning folding her things into the boxes Anden sent for in near silence. Occasionally he'll ask where she would like something, but otherwise they both let each other be. Everything to say has been said. One of the first things she'd asked for upon her promotion was her own jeep. And now Anden is down stairs loading it up with the surprisingly few things she's deemed worth moving into her own home. She stands in their bedroom. She wonders if he'll repaint it. He'll probably have the maintenance staff do it. Day's necklace is still on the bedside table, Anden hadn't touched it. She picks it up and puts it around her neck. Then quickly takes it off again and slips it into her pocket, she doesn't need more things weighing her down. She was okay. She picks up her last bag and slings it over her shoulder. As she exits the apartment she leaves her key on the kitchen table.
On the street below Anden is waiting next to the jeep even though it's drizzling lightly. He takes the bag off her shoulder and puts it into the passenger seat. Then they stand on the sidewalk and look at each other. They'd eased each other's pain, sutured the wounds, and showed each other that there was indeed the possibility of healing. She knew it was time for them both to move on but it still hurt to see him, whom she had shared so much with, slipping through her fingers.
"I guess this is good bye then," he says evenly.
"I left your key upstairs," she informs him.
He nods and she moves to get in the car.
"June," his voice stops her, "I know there's a lot of things you feel guilty about. But don't feel guilty about this. I knew your heart was taken… I just wanted you anyway."
She turns back to him and wraps her arms around his neck. He brings his arms up to hold her just as tightly…he knows it's the last time. For a moment she focuses on the feeling of his chest expanding as he breathes, the way she can feel his pulse under her fingertips. She kisses his cheek and he lets his arms fall away from her.
"Thank you," she says and he seems to understand that her vague words encompass everything she'd left unsaid in their time together.
"Take care of yourself," he responds.
He doesn't say anything else as she gets in the car and starts it. She pulls out and in the rearview mirror she watches him raise his hand in a single wave as the rain begins to fall harder. He'd done right by her. She wishes she could be what he needed. Anden, with his kind voice that made you want to listen to it, soft hands, and strong heart, would be another thing that made her heart a little heavier.
She thinks about what she'd been trying to say with her simple thank you.
Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for loving me at my darkest and showing me that there was a light in me I'd always assumed had been extinguished with Day's memories of me. Thank you for holding my hand when I had to put Ollie down. Thank you for asking if I'd like you to spend the night that first time. Thank you for making your home ours. Thank you for freeing me of blame. Thank you for letting me go.
She rolls down her window and breathes in the clean, moist, air.
"It's okay," she murmurs to herself, "you're okay."
It was true. Day was okay, Anden would be okay, and so would she.