What If

I decide to take on Mom and Walter first. I spin on my heel, and Heather steps away.

“Thanks for coming with me,” I start, and Walter puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Not where we’d like to be.” He tightens his eyebrows but softens with a smile. “We will make sure you have money in your account here, so you have what you need.”

“Oh, Jessie.” My mother places her freshly manicured fingers over her red lips. “This is not what should be happening. This is not how I raised you. I did my best, I did what I could. I will take care of your apartment. I will make sure all the loose ends are taken care of. I will make sure everything is paid while you’re gone. I will try to keep it all as quiet as I can.”

“That’s a lot of ‘I’s’, Mom.” Is all I can manage as Walter puts his arm around her.

“Jessie.” He looks down at me. “This is hard on everyone, you know. Your actions have ripples that extend to us all.”

“So, then.” Helga steps in. “You say goodbye, and I’ll get a ride back with them.” She nods her head toward Heather and Mitchell. “You go, this is too much for you, then you go.” Her stern voice whips around us, and my mother’s tears subside.

“Give me a hug.” My mom steps forward, and I let her arms move around my back, and I return the quick gesture without emotion.

The numbness is creeping back in, and I’m thankful for the way everything feels like it is happening in a movie now. Like I’m watching it instead of living it.

Walter does the same, and in the next minute, they retreat out the door, my stepfather already on his phone as they make their way back down the sidewalk to the parking lot.

Helga and I turn and step back toward Heather and Mitchell.

“I looked for a card that would cover just such an occasion.” I shrug. “But Hallmark didn’t have anything in the, ‘See you in a few years, I’m going to prison,’ section. All sold out.”

“I love you.” Heather’s arms wrap around me and pull me tight. “I’m coming every week. I’m calling every other day.”

One of the things Mitchell covered with me were the practicalities of visiting: phone calls, packages, mail, the commissary…it’s like a very unpleasant summer camp.

“You don’t worry about your job. You’ll have a job whenever you come back.” Helga’s voice intermingles with Heather’s struggle to keep her breathing steady. I feel her body jerk and know she’s crying.

I twist my head and look at Helga. “Thanks.”

I see Helga’s chin quiver, and I lose it.

My knees give. Sobs tear from my body and Mitchell comes over to encircle both Heather and me, keeping us upright.

I don’t know how long that goes on. It feels like forever and a blink of an eye.

I hear a phone ringing, and Mitchell lets us go. Helga comes around as I step back from Heather and takes my chin in her sturdy hand.

“You will be okay. You will do this, then you will be done. Then life will go on. I know.”

I nod. This woman spent eight years in a Russian prison, which by comparison this is a spa retreat in the Maldives.

“Good. Now, I’m going. I will be here too. I will come. Be strong. You strong girl.” She turns on her black heel and marches out the door, her hands both coming up to her face as she goes.

Mitchell steps into the corner, and I hear my text alert go off.

It’s Torin. It’s his sound, and my heart is in my throat. I know he won’t expect a reply. I wouldn’t know what to say.

Heather gives me a smile as I reach to my back pocket and pull out my phone.

Torin: Every day, every minute, every second is still filled with you. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. When you’re ready. When it’s right. I’m never giving up on us.

I swallow back the new sobs, knowing the reality is that in thirty-six months, neither of us will be the same people. Sometimes the people that come into our lives and burn the brightest are not the ones meant to stick around.

In a way, I guess I like this way better. Snuffing out what was burning bright versus watching the fire die and the embers smolder, knowing there is no way to bring back what once was. That’s what usually happens from what I’ve seen, and I couldn’t bear the days, months and years of slow pain watching us die like that.

Wondering what he was doing, if he’d found someone else, while I sat here counting the days.

Still, I stare down at my phone hoping for more.

I need more.

I need to be fed by him now. In this moment.