Saying Goodbye

He took a plastic packet from the bag and opened it for her then placed it on the seat between them. It contained a plastic knife and fork and a solitary napkin. Manners forgotten, she took the fork and dug in. A primal sense of exhilaration overcame her as she ate. Every nerve in her body seemed to scream 'Yes!' in unison. In minutes the food was gone, and she was awash with fatigue so strong it bordered on unconsciousness. Without asking he took the empty container and cup, putting them in the bag.

"Your seat reclines, if you want to lie back." He told her, but she was already asleep.

He sat there watching her as she slept. He cradled his head in his hands, and with a sigh he cranked the car. Minutes later they were several miles away, the Crown Vic consuming mile after mile of asphalt as she slept next to him. Every few seconds he found himself looking at her as she slept.

"Don't do it man." He whispered to himself. "Don't. You know how it will end."

He was grateful she was sleeping so soundly. If not, she might have waked to see him crying. He ached to reach over and touch her, just a quick touch of her cheek or to brush his fingers through her hair.

"Don't." He said again. "Don't you dare."

Shaking his head, he tried to concentrate. He pulled a cell phone from a jacket pocket and pressed a button. An electronic female voice prompted him.

"Please say a command."

"Call Edsel." He spoke slowly.

"Calling." The voice replied, followed by a pause. "Edsel."

The phone rang several times as he knew it would, and then a raspy voice answered. His old friend wouldn't have answered for any else, but he knew when he called it would not go ignored.

"Godammit Nails this better be good." The gravely voice barked.

"It is. I'm about a hundred miles northwest of Atlanta, and I need some antibiotics bad. Preferably something strong. Augmentin if you can. Amoxicillin at the least. And Pedialyte and Robitussin, the strong stuff."

"Gimme a minute." The voice replied groggily and then the line went silent. After four or five minutes the voice returned. "Ok, you got it. You'll be getting a call from a twenty-four hour pharmacy in a few minutes. They will give you directions."

"Edsel you're the absolute best, man."

"Yes I am, now ain't I?" He chuckled. "So you're working while you're sick now, eh? Man you really ought to think about retiring. You've gotta spend some of your life on you, sooner or later."

"You're right, as usual Edsel. But this is one job I've got to finish."

"I know, I know. Just make sure to take care of yourself. You're alright, aren't you?"

He gave a long sigh. He could never lie to his friend, not even if he tried.

"No, Edsel. I'm not. But I will be."

"Good enough, now you take care. Let me know if you need anything."

There was a click and the line went dead. He put the phone back in his pocket and his eyes made their way back to her. Even in her current state, she was beautiful to him. Despite how badly he wanted to touch her, even if only for the briefest of touches, he would not allow himself to do it. And so he drove on while she slept.

~5~

She woke to a strange sound. A faint sliding noise that repeated every few seconds. She wiped the sleep away from her eyes and her hands instinctively went to her hair, a habit she developed long ago in her former life. She was blessed with a wealth of beautiful hair, copper red with a light undertone of chestnut brown. Early on she realized how people noticed her hair, and being a girl it naturally became a source of great pride and vanity for her. She couldn't count the times someone told her how pretty it was in the sunlight, a deep burnished red color that shone beautifully. As she ran her fingers through her hair, it felt a terrible, dirty mess. Suddenly she coughed again, a deep painful cough that felt as if it were tearing her insides apart.

She had been sleeping like a rock, without waking or any dreams. She didn't realize how fatigued she had let herself become. A chill ran though her and she pulled the covers tightly around her, marveling at how soft and warm they felt. Then it occurred to her that she had no idea where she was, and then the events of the night before suddenly came back to her. She sat upright, still clutching the blankets. He was sitting on a bed next to hers, looking at her in concern. Looking around her, she saw the room was very tidy and sterile looking. They were in a hotel room.

He was wearing the same suit (or one that looked just like it, which she remembered would be typical of him; he always kept six of the same suits in his closet. It was something she always regarded as terribly clichéd but mildly amusing). She heard the sliding sound again and then she saw where it was coming from. He had a straight razor in his right hand, and the end of his belt in the left. The belt was looped around the toe of one boot and he was holding it tight with one hand while he slid the razor down its length with the other.

"You still sharpen it every day." She said flatly.

She recognized the razor, an old Solingen she gave him for Christmas a long time ago. He collected them, a habit she found to be slightly macabre but fascinating. He even shaved with the damned thing, a daily task she observed with faint amazement. She feared he would slip and cut his own throat until she saw him using it. He brushed the razor across his face with a practiced ease that bordered on being grandeur, expertly gliding it against his skin with precise pressure. Suddenly she had a memory of a cold November night ,when in a moment of impulsive foreplay, he held her down and shaved her with the same razor, only he hadn't shaved her face. She remembered being horribly frightened at first, then insanely aroused. She looked away from him, blushing.

'Long damned time since that happened…' chimed the voice in her head.

"Old habits, you know." He replied.

She started to speak but instead was overtaken by another round of coughs. He closed the razor without looking at it and slipped it into his right boot and then stood up, sliding the belt back on. He walked into another room, and she heard the clinking of dishes followed by the beeping of a microwave. The coughing fit passed and she pulled the covers away for a moment, looking down. To her relief she was still wearing her clothes. She noticed a large suitcase at the foot of her bed. It looked new, a store tag on the handle. She remembered that it wasn't like him to buy new luggage, unless that tattered old leather thing he kept when he traveled had finally fallen apart. She realized she remembered so many small things about him. Things she didn't hate quite as much as she had once convinced herself she hated him. Slowly, so many things were coming back to her. She had secretly wanted to throw his old leather satchel away, but didn't because he told her it was given to him by someone he cared for very much. She never asked who gave it to him, but a mild burning resent always pricked at her, wondering if it was given to him by another woman. 'It was given to me by someone who's gone now' was all he ever said about it.

She noticed a small brown paper bag sitting on a table between the beds, and on the floor by her bed was a large Target bag with the top tied closed in a neat knot. She heard three quick beeps and the familiar rattle of silverware. He returned, holding a coffee cup. A lazy head of steam rose from the cup. She had no idea what was in the cup, but suddenly she wanted it very badly. Another chill shook her, as if her body was announcing its agreement. He gave her the cup and she took it eagerly.

"It's chicken broth." He said. "And if you don't mind…"

He took the paper bag and sat it in his lap, opening it and fishing around in it. He pulled out a brown plastic bottle. He shook it, the contents rattling.

"Seven day supply. It should be more than enough to clear up that mess in your lungs." He said, opening the bottle and shaking out two pills into his palm. "They're strong antibiotics, so you'll need to eat again."

She was too mesmerized by the aroma of the broth to argue. He held his hand out and she took the pills without even looking at them. She placed them on her tongue with a shaky hand and took a sip of the broth. It felt like warm heaven going down, and she realized she was very hungry again. He reached into the bag and pulled out a slender bottle. Cough syrup, she recognized. He removed the cap and sat it on the table next to her. She turned the cup up and drank the rest of the broth in two big gulps. Her stomach seemed to scream in protest. A brief mental Image came to her, the plant from that old movie Little Shop of Horrors. "Feed me!" it screamed, and then her stomach growled as if the plant were hiding in her stomach, demanding to be fed. She felt another cough coming on, a hard itch deep in her chest. She sat the cup aside and then grabbed the bottle of cough syrup, taking a long pull from it. Almost instantly she felt lightheaded and saw stars swim before her eyes.

"Codeine." He said, taking the bottle from her shaking hand and replacing the cap. "And alcohol. You're dehydrated so you might want to take small sips."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Let me know when you're ready to eat. I'll call room service and get some breakfast. I could stand to eat myself."

She sat there reeling a bit, but with relief as the urge to cough faded away. The effects of the strong cough syrup washed over her like warm water and she lie back down. Her mind was racing, though. She wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say or where to start. Somehow 'Thanks' seemed meaningless and hollow after saying it over and over again. She finally spoke after many long moments of deliberation.

"I'm really grateful for all of this. But I don't want you thinking you have to do it." She said, hoping it sounded the way she meant it. "I mean, I'm glad you found me. I'm, I'm glad to see you. I'm just sorry it has to be like… like this."

"You don't have to apologize. I understand." He replied. "I really do. Please don't think I would hold it against you."

Something he said to her years before came to mind, during an argument. It was their last argument, actually. He was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, an empty condom wrapper clenched in his hand. He had tears in his eyes. 'Sooner or later, everyone goes through a time when they're down and out. The question is, what are you gonna do when it's your turn?' he said, crying. He dropped the condom wrapped and then walked out. That was the last time she had seen him, until last night. Suddenly she felt angry and ashamed at the same time.

'This is a bad time to relive all of that' rang the voice in her head. For the first time, she was in total agreement with the voice.

"I appreciate all of this." She said, turning her head to look him in the eyes. It wasn't as difficult to do as it was the night before, but it still stung a bit.

She got a better look at him this time, noticing how he had changed. He had lost weight and looked taller somehow. There was more silver in his hair, and his eyes looked weary and worn. Their eyes met for several moments then he looked away.

"Anyway." He interjected. "I took the liberty of picking up a few things while you were sleeping."

He pointed to the bag sitting on the floor between them.

"I got a few things for you. And please, you don't have to thank me. I wanted to. It's just basic stuff. A couple of pairs of pants and some shirts, and a fleece pullover and a pair of shoes. And there's a jacket in the closet for you."

He nodded toward the suitcase at the foot of the bed.

"And something to put it all in. There receipt is in the bag in case anything doesn't fit. There's a gift card in the bag, too, so you can buy something else if you want." He reached into a pocket and pulled out an envelope. "And this."

"Nails, you don't have to do all this." She resisted, finding herself overwhelmed by a number of emotions.

"Look." He said sternly. "I know I don't have to."

He stood up and dropped the envelope on the bed next to her, then turned his back to her. When he spoke again his voice was trembling.

"But I need to. Please just take it."

"It's too much. I can't accept all this." She replied, and felt tears welling in her eyes as well.

He sat on the bed at her feet, his back still to her. He was there unmoving, as if in deep thought, and then he said quietly "I was drunk."

"What?" She asked, confused.

"I was drunk. When I emailed you. I didn't mean to, it just happened. I didn't want to interfere. I wasn't trying to bother you."

After searching her memory frantically, it made sense to her. It happened years ago, how many she wasn't sure of. It had been well over a year since they had spoken or seen one another. One chilly October night she got an email from him. It contained what seemed to be a scrap of a love story about two star crossed lovers meeting in some distant place, and nothing else. She remembered that it pissed her off to no end.

"But you don't drink." Was the only reply she could manage.

"I don't." He answered. "I had some friends over. You know me. That rarely ever happens so it was kind of a big occasion. I cooked Italian and we had a few bottles of red wine. I had a glass of wine with my dinner…"

He still remembered her reply to his email, and it burned at him. "I have moved on. Do not contact me again." It secretly made him angry and hurt at the same time.

"It's ok". She said, hoping he would stop, but he continued on.

"You can't have Italian without red wine. And you know how I am. One glass is enough to give me a buzz. It was expensive wine, too. Tuscan. After my company left I had another glass, and the next thing I knew I was finishing off the bottle. I don't know what got into me. I just felt like, like I needed it. I got to thinking about things, and I started missing you."

He wiped at his face and she knew he was crying.

"I didn't mean to force my way back into your life. I knew it made you angry."

"Don't dwell on it." She said in an attempt to sound comforting. "That was a long time ago."

He wouldn't say what he was thinking, but as he sat there crying he was reliving their last moments together and struggling to keep his emotions under control. The memories came to him in a flood.

'Don't dwell on it? I caught you cheating on me fucking red-handed, and afterward you completely shut me off. You treated me like I never even existed. We were together for fucking years and then suddenly you were gone from my life, and I shouldn't dwell on it? Was it because you were ashamed? Was it because I caught you lying over and over again and like a damned fool I kept forgiving you? What was I supposed to do? Just let you go and not try to make things work? You started acting so different suddenly, and when I tried to talk to you, you wouldn't let me in or tell me what was wrong. You got mad at me when I read your emails, but what else was I supposed to do? You wouldn't tell me what was wrong. You were acting like a totally different person, and I thought something had happened to you. Do you know how painful it is to watch someone you love with all your heart act that way, not knowing what was wrong or what to do about it? I actually thought you had been raped or something just as bad. I tried to talk to you, but you insisted that nothing was wrong, even though I could see it in your eyes that something was killing you inside. After weeks of it I gave in and started checking behind you, and then the lies started showing up. I wanted you to be happy, more than I wanted to be happy for myself, and I told you that we should go our separate ways and end things as peaceably and painlessly as we could even though I knew it wouldn't be painless at all. But you said no. You told me you wanted to work things out and make things the way they used to be. I trusted you, and I fucking believed you. That's why I stayed, because you looked me in the eyes and you told me you loved me and you wanted us to be together and that we could work things out. And when you decided that you didn't want me or us any more, you didn't have the decency to just tell me it was over. You led me on, made me believe that we were still trying to make things between us better. And then I caught you sleeping around. And how did you think I knew? Those fucking worthless people you thought were your friends, they fucking told me, that's how I knew. While you were sleeping with him they were calling me. They were never your friends. You were nothing more than a TV talk show to them. I tried to break up with you but you wouldn't have it. I never even looked at another woman while I was with you, and you repaid me by sleeping around and it nearly killed me. It nearly fucking killed me… "

He realized he had been sitting there for minutes, lost in his thoughts. He knew it would do no good to speak what he was thinking. They were both in enough pain already.

"I tried not to." Was all he could think to say instead. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled long and slow as he gathered his thoughts. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed aloud. "There's something you need to know about me, that in years together I never told you. I never told you because I thought you knew. I thought it was why you fell in love with me. I know I was wrong now, but I believed you understood it then."

"What is that?" She asked, terribly afraid of the way he sounded. She wasn't afraid for her, she was afraid for him. He sounded so resigned, so defeated.

"There are some birds…" He started. "That go through life looking for another one like themselves, and when they find them, they imprint on them and then they pair up for life. While they're with their other half they fly higher and truer than they ever did before. And if they lose their other half they can't just fly away like they never existed. It takes a long time for them to recover and fly true again. I don't think they can ever fly quite as high again after that."

"Nails, I don't understand."

"You are what the world wants. You're young and pretty, even though you might forget it sometimes. I'm not. When people see you, they see something that they want and they want to be a part of it. I have never been that way. When I met you, you made me feel that way. I have to admit that I was always a little jealous of how privileged you were. Your family made sure you were well taken care of. There was always someone there for you, to support you and meet your every need. Nobody ever left me anything. There was no one there to make me feel important, no one left anything behind so I had an identity to hold onto or someone to look up to. I always felt like you were somehow better than me. Before I met you I went through life feeling broken and lost. And then I met you, and when you told me you loved me…, I was changed. I believed that if someone like you could love me that maybe I wasn't broken after all. I'm not a person who can just walk away from someone I care about. When I lost you it nearly killed me, because I believed you were the best part of me. When things ended for us, it wasn't so simple for me. I never stopped wanting you back. I can't just turn it off. It takes time."

He stood up suddenly. "Alot of time." He finished, turning to face her. He looked into her eyes, and the ache to touch her was strong again. Stronger than it had been since the first time he saw her so many years ago. "You have this room for a week, if you need it. There's enough money in that envelope to get back on your feet. Please take care of yourself."