Chapter Nineteen
Emily
I sit in the middle of the couch, correcting the essays from my students last week. I know I should get up and go to the barbecue, but after walking away from him, I drove back home and cried.
Seeing him with his shirt off jilted me a bit, but after seeing the angry scar on his side, I couldn’t keep from asking if he was okay. If I hadn’t been sitting in the chair when he told me he died, I would have fallen to the floor. My heart dropped out of my chest, and my stomach ached. He told me his story or a piece of it, and all I wanted to do was crawl into his lap and hug him. But instead, I agreed to get to know him, get to know the man who he is now. When I got home, I was shocked to find a box sitting by my door with all the things I’d kept at Drew’s.
When I picked it up, I found a letter placed on the top. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it was nothing that was in the letter.
Here is your stuff. If you can get me mine by tomorrow it would be appreciated. Just leave it on the porch.
He didn’t even sign his name. I looked at the stuff in the box, and I had to laugh. He was returning my coffee mug. I shake my head at the couple of shirts I had there, and the one picture he kept in his house. I took everything out and threw it in the garbage, then I walked around the house with the same box and filled it up or at least that was the plan. In the end, the only thing I had of his was a tie. We were together for over two years, and all he had at my house was a tie. I walked into the bathroom and thought maybe I’d find his aftershave or at least his razor, but no. I had more shit that belonged to Brett in my house than I did of Drew. I dropped the empty box by the door and decided to stay in. Jenna called to check on me and after convincing her I was okay, I changed into my yoga pants, grabbed the stack of papers I needed to grade, and then got lost in the stories of my students.
As I start another paper, I hear a soft knock on the door. I thought for sure it would be Jenna, but when I open it, I stand here looking at him. He has a baby blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more with his shirt color. I look at the ink on his arms, and I want to touch it so bad. He wears khaki pants with brown boots. “I thought you might need something to eat,” he says, lifting the bag that he has in his hand that I didn’t even notice. “It’s your favorite.”
I motion with my hand. “Come in.” After I move to the side, he steps in, his eyes going to the box by the door. “You didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“I know I didn’t have to,” he says, not moving from the door. “But I wanted to.” He smiles, and I try to ignore the way my heart beats, or that the pain in my chest is just a little less since last week. He places it on the counter next to the picture of Drew and me. It’s the only thing I kept that was in the box. It was one of our first dates, where we were dressed up to go to his work function. “You look good here,” he says, looking at it and then up again. “I mean, you look good in anything.” He puts it down, and then he just stares at me.
“What did you bring me?” I ask, grabbing the brown paper bag and finding containers inside. “Is this chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes?” I look at it and then grab another container to find the gravy. “Oh my god.” I turn and pop it into the oven and set the timer. “I haven’t eaten all day.” I walk over to the fridge. “Would you like a beer?”
“Water is fine,” he says, and I look at him. “I don’t really drink that anymore. I will have one occasionally.”
I open a water bottle for him and hand it to him. “I have to tell you something,” he starts, and I just look at him. “Talk is already starting about you and Drew.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “How?” I shake my head; this is what happens in the South. The chatter goes around so fast.