Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“You made a mistake, doll. You proved you weren’t as perfect as everyone thought you were. It happens.” Bailey nodded. “But guess what?

“Hmm?”

“I still think you’re pretty perfect. Always have. And regardless of any of it, I still love ya.” She winked again.

“I love you too. And I’m going to miss you too.”

“And Darren too, I s’pose?”

Bailey sighed and smiled. She was smiling a lot given her somewhat odd state. She wasn’t happy to be moving, but there was relief to some extent. It was a bizarre, painful relief. So much pain and sadness and yet still relief. The past few months had been a fight. A battle against something she had no hope of conquering. And whether she was sad to be leaving or not, that fight was being put to rest.

Michelle ran out to get them a pizza after the garbage was collected, and they spent the evening eating and reminiscing.

When Bailey woke the next morning, she decided it was time to pay her oldest and dearest friend in the world a visit. She’d avoided it up to this point, but it would be wrong to drive away into the sunset without having ever done this.

Jess’ gravestone was simple, but large. The plot was adorned with flowers left over from Memorial Day. It had occurred to Bailey that she should visit on Memorial Day, but she couldn’t bring herself to face the crowd of other people who would be visiting their own loved ones in the cemetery. Bailey had visited her father’s headstone, but it had been a few days after the holiday.

Now the cemetery was silent, and she was alone. She stood looking; there was really little else to do in a cemetery unless you were willing to talk out loud to dead people. The most Bailey managed was a “Sorry, Jess.” It came out choked up with tears, and when she turned to leave, he was there. He was watching her, his eyes glossy but restrained, and she watched as he swallowed over a lump in his throat.

“I stopped by your house and drove by the furniture store. Didn’t know where else to look but here.” He almost managed a smile, but it fell flat as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. What I said the other day . . . Well, it doesn’t really matter why I said it. It was wrong, and more than that, I don’t feel that way. Not anymore.”

“Please don’t ask me to stay, Darren. I can’t say no to you, but I. . .” Her voice was choking up.

He shook his head. “No, I know. You have to go. I understand.” He studied her for a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked miserable. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I was for . . . everything.”

“Me too.” He nodded and took a deep breath.

“Oh, here.” He pulled a folded check from his pocket and offered it to her. “Last payment.” She nodded, pocketing the check quickly. “I better go.”

She wanted to beg him to stay, but she nodded instead. That was what this was going to be like for her. She’d want him, but she’d walk away anyway. He lifted his hand in a casual gesture, and when he said bye, she managed to respond in kind even though it hurt to breathe. He walked away, and she watched him. And when he had driven away, she turned back to Jess’ headstone. “Good-bye, Jess. I love you.”

He couldn’t sleep that night, and it was a damn good thing he had the next day off because he could barely think straight. He met his parents for coffee midmorning, and his dad instantly sighed when he took in Darren’s appearance. His mother was less subtle.

“Darren, you look awful.” He supposed he did. But he was only out of medical school and residency for a few years, so to say he looked like hammered shit based solely on the fact he hadn’t slept at all the night before was a stretch. His body knew how to do no sleep; his body did not know how to do losing her again. “So, she’s leaving.”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked at his mother, and then his gaze drifted over to his father, who was studying him with concern as well. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. And I’m not entirely sure I even know how to put any of it into words anyway.” They just watched him as Sally poured coffee. The poor woman spent every waking hour in this restaurant, but at the moment, he was ready to snatch the coffeepot away from her and down it—he was damn glad Sally was there to make her ridiculously strong coffee.

“You don’t have to talk to us about anything you don’t want to talk about. We just worry.”

“Have I changed so much?” The words tumbled out more than they were deliberately spoken, and he instantly wished he could reel them back in.

“Oh, Dare.” His mother’s face was all sadness, and he looked away rather than torment himself with it.

“I guess that answers that question.” He muttered as he shook his head for moment, lost in thoughts and visions of Bailey being hurt by him. “People die all the time. I’m a doctor. I see it constantly.” He forced his eyes up to them. “So, why couldn’t I handle it? You two did. You were devastated. No doubt, but you didn’t . . . you didn’t change. You didn’t degrade into something . . . someone you were never meant to be. There are times when I feel like I’ve turned into an absolute monster. I don’t even know myself anymore. I don’t want this.” He shook his head again, and his mother’s eyes watered while his father put his hand on hers.

“It was different for you, Darren.”

“Why? I’m logical. I understand death. I get it. I can even rationally say that I’m not responsible for the decisions Bailey made that night. I know that were it my child in my shoes, I would never want them to blame themselves for what happened, or Bailey for that matter!” He was speaking passionately, emphatically. “I just. Want. Peace.” He was struggling.

His father finally spoke then, and it stilled them all. “Darren, your sister doesn’t want this for you. We don’t, either. But you have to make the decision to let it all go. And you have to let go of the notion that letting the guilt and pain go is letting Jess go. It isn’t. All you’re doing is disrespecting her memory. It’s not intentional, and I know beyond a doubt that she isn’t watching you with anger or regret but with love and hope for your future. It’s what she would want, it’s what your mother and I want for you, and it’s what you need. We can’t do this for you, Darren.” His face, always so stoic and hard, was just as fragile as Darren’s felt at the moment. He was a parent watching his child hurt himself and unable to fix it.

“Are you going to see her before she goes?”

“No. I’ve done enough damage. She needs to get away from me and stay away from me, because I’m afraid I’ll take us both down.” His mother nodded, and his father just watched him.

They said little else, and as he was leaving, his mother wrapped him in a tight hug. His father hugged him as well, a rare gesture for him. Fuck, life must surely be grim at the moment.

He took Macy for a run, and he walked up to the tall outcropping of rocks, staring out over the lake far below. It was so stunningly beautiful, and for a moment, he felt as though his life was a very small and insignificant thing. It wasn’t a depressing notion in the least, but a comfort. Death was just a small part of any person’s journey, and it wasn’t the end of the world, even if it felt that way. Perspective was within his grasp for a fleeting moment as his eyes took in the lush hills and the shimmering water. He wanted so much to hang on to it. That feeling that all was right in his world, Jess’ too for that matter. It was calming as it passed through him, and it stayed until he turned back to the path.

He walked down the trail, and his eyes caught on where Bailey must have lost her footing. There was a skid that ran off the trail, and the ground was scuffed and the foliage torn and trampled for a good twenty feet down the steep terrain. Panic hit for a half second as he imagined her falling, and he remembered just how panicked he’d been on that day when he’d realized she was missing. The same panic had hit like a shock blast to his body when he saw her standing hunched over on the trail, and the relief when he finally had his hands on her was the only thing that soothed that blinding fear.

That fear wasn’t something he knew outside his personal life. He was incapable, even, of feeling such strong and debilitating terror in his profession. He didn’t know why. It was just his perspective. His perspective that worked for everyone except those that mattered the most to him—his mother, his father, at one time Jess, and . . . her. She’d almost always been a part of his life, and from a time even before his feelings had turned intimate, he’d felt that way. He loved her as much as he loved anyone. Too fucking bad he was so incapable of forgiving her or forgetting about their pain.

He was panting when he reached his house, and he jumped in the shower, standing under cold water that shocked his skin into tight goose bumps. He collapsed on his bed after and stared. He must be losing his mind because he could nearly swear he could still smell her scent on his sheets. He was certain she’d changed the bedding sometime in the last few days, so it couldn’t possibly be true, but she was just surrounding him.

The need for her was so painfully strong, he groaned out loud at the emptiness. He had to let her go. But, God, it hurt.

She was done. Nothing left to do but wait for Michelle to come the next morning to take her to her new life. She cracked open a beer and plunked her tired and sweaty ass down on the couch. Her boxes were stacked by the door—very little really, but it had still taken time to sort all her stuff out and pack it neatly away. Her furniture would remain here, and Michelle still had enough time to get it into her garage sale.

She would be staying with her mother in her small two-bedroom apartment until she was ready and able to get out on her own. Her parole officer, Harold, had eyed her curiously when she’d told the poor man she wanted to move away to Memphis again, but he’d put the original jurisdiction transfer back into place.

She should get a good night’s sleep, but she really wasn’t sure that was even possible. Instead, she sat on her porch stairs drinking her beer, staring around her, and trying to ignore the sadness. She eventually grabbed another beer; it was her limit. She wasn’t at all an alcoholic, but she kept a tight rein on what she was willing to consume. Maybe it was respect, maybe it was fear, maybe it was just shame, but she didn’t cross her limit anymore.

She stripped out of her old, tattered jean shorts, leaving her T-shirt in place. She’d not left pajamas out, and the only clean clothes not packed were the shorts, tank top, and clean underwear she’d set out for the morning. There were only sheets on her bed, and she had a large empty duffle bag sitting beside her bed to toss her pillows and remaining bedding in the next morning. She’d shut the air off. The clouds were coming in, and it was going to cool down enough to have the house open once the rain hit.

She wandered around, looking for anything she’d forgotten, and when she was sure she’d removed every trace of her existence from the small cottage, she crawled into bed, watching the ceiling fan above her. Her eyes tried to follow the rotation, but she gave up after five minutes, letting herself get dizzy as she watched the whir of the blades.

And then there was a knock.

Her body lurched, and she sat nearly straight up as she heard it. There was a chance, outside at best, that it was Michelle. She wasn’t expecting Michelle until the next morning, and there was no reason to think she’d stop by. That really only left one other person that might pay her a visit, and that one other person left her heart racing. Her throat was suddenly dry, and she sat staring at the wall in front of her for a moment before she could get her legs to work.

By the time she made it to the front door, her fingers were trembling, and when she pulled the door open, she held her breath.

“Hi.”

She just stared. Her mouth was hanging open, and she knew she should close it, but she’d be damned if she could figure out how. She lifted her hand in greeting once she’d given up on her mouth. This wasn’t supposed to happen right now. Twelve hours until she was leaving. She couldn’t do this.

“I’d have called, but you already had your phone disconnected. If you don’t want to invite me in, I’ll understand.” Darren was watching her, and while he normally regarded her coolly and calmly, his expression wasn’t either of those things at the moment. He looked confused or maybe worried, but there was nothing cool about him.