Our story, although too short, was perfect because our life together was timeless. Still, losing you so quickly felt cruel, until I accepted my past. Now I know that you came into my life to give it back to me. As ugly and riddled with shame as it is, it’s a part of who I am and without the memory of it, I would have always felt incomplete. Now the void in my heart—my soul—is you.
You are the most beautiful and extraordinary person I know. I pity the people who had the chance to be in your life and chose not to. For me, every second has been such a gift, one that I probably didn’t deserve. I will never look at my ring finger without remembering that you said “yes.” But the mark you left on my heart will live on long after my body is gone. It will transcend time to a perfect place where our past is forgotten and pain doesn’t exist.
I will forever feel the lingering of your breath on my neck, your heart against my chest. I’ll see your lips wrapped around my jelly spoon, brilliant blue eyes filled with love, and the blinding smile of my BFF—my breakfast soul mate—the woman who said “yes.”
I know you love me—I really do. This is all on me … I did this to us. But I know I can’t fix it, so I’m going to do the only thing I can. I’m going to give you your freedom and hope that someone deserving of your love can pick up the pieces and mend them with a love worthy of your heart.
Goodbye, Darby Carmichael
Trick
Carmichael—I can barely breathe.
Swollen eyes, blurred ink, and a bleeding heart.
With shaky hands, I lift the package and notice another envelope behind it. Setting the package back down, I open the envelope—divorce papers with his signature. If it’s physically possible to die of a broken heart then this is where they’ll find my body. The papers slip through my fingers and float to the floor in slow motion like a dream, because this just cannot be real. I buckle over resting my hands on my knees, my body wracked with sobs.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My tears fall to the brown paper covering the package. I pick it up and rip off the paper with an uncontrolled anger, a death grip of pain.
“Oh … my … God …” I sob even harder, holding the sketch—Just … no words. A blown up black and white photo—every detail finished with such precision I can feel it, like I’m in the picture … in the moment. It’s Trick’s lower abdomen with me pressing my lips to his black sanskrit tattoo and his hand fisted in my hair.
Don’t look back in anger.
Leaning against the glass wall, I slide down it, completely drained. In this exact moment I realize something … I’m no longer crumbling. I pull my phone out of my coat pocket and text my husband.
Me: Come.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Tamsen raises her glass. “A toast to my boys for not burning my house down and spending the holidays with your dateless, lifeless, will-die-an-old-cat-woman sister.”
“Did you get a cat?” Grady asks as our glasses clink together.
“No, I’m referring to my vagina. In the straight world it’s called a pussy. I’m going to die with an old and minimally used pussy.”
We all laugh.
“I love that you think everything in the ‘gay world’ is different than the ‘straight world.’ Silly me, all these years I assumed it was just sexual orientation.” Grady shakes his head.
“I have to go.” I stand. “I’m … sorry.” I whisper, staring at my phone—lost for words.
“What’s wrong?” They ask in unison.
I close my eyes and swallow hard. A week ago, after the last of my stuff was sold, I took the drawing, divorce papers, and letter to the place I knew she’d find it when she gathered the courage to face me … to let me go. I gave thanks for the best days of my life, left the sketch, and then I did it so she wouldn’t have to—I let her go.
Asking her to love me with the recent revelation of my past is too much to ask of anyone, especially the person that I’d die to protect. But just now she did what she does best … She completely blew my mind, bringing me to my knees, reminding me that my heart still beats—many miles away.
“I’m going home.” I look up from my phone—from that one word and hold it up to show my family.
Tamsen makes it only two seconds before she’s a complete basket case, then Grady loses it too. I’d like to say that I hold my shit together—but I don’t.
I throw most of my stuff in my bag and leave anything that’s not in plain sight.
I give Tamsen and Grady quick hugs.