Page 19 of Feels Like Coming Home

‘Haley Jones’ I typed into Facebook. There wasn’t much I could see because after that night in her dorm room, she’d unfriended me and made her page private. I could only see what she made public or what other people tagged her in. After she unfriended me, there were so many times I wanted to friend request her back, but I never did. I knew she was happy and she deserved to be. Especially with how I treated her after our night together.

This was the first time I entered her name into the search bar since I saw her wedding photos all those years ago. After that stalking session, I told myself I wouldn’t look her up again because seeing her happy with someone else hurt too much. But now I was scrolling her Facebook page, trying to find anything that would tell me the full story of what happened. After a few swipes of my trackpad, I saw it—his obituary. Someone had tagged Haley in it so it was on her page.

I clicked on the link that took me to the local Wilmington newspaper obituary section and read:

Connor Mason died on August 2nd after being in a fatal car accident at the age of thirty-two. During his time on Earth, he was loved by all who knew him including his family, friends, and coworkers. He worked as a financial advisor for over five years and was known for being kind to anyone he met. When he wasn’t at work, he spent his time working at the children’s center and giving back to the local Wilmington community. He is survived by his wife of eight years, Haley Mason. Connor will be dearly missed and remembered always. Services for Connor will be held in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Under the blurb was a photo of Connor and Haley, and the information for his funeral. It was tomorrow, at a funeral home not even half an hour from my house. I sat back on the couch as so many questions swirled around in my head.

There was no mention of kids. Did they not have any kids? Was that because they didn’t want any or couldn’t have any? Haley always talked about wanting to have kids growing up, but now we were both well into our thirties and she didn’t have any. I wondered if that was because she’d changed her mind or because her husband didn’t want any. He was a financial advisor? It sounded like a boring as fuck job. Part of me wondered how Haley had ended up with someone who worked a desk job. She was always so full of fire; how could she have ended up with someone who sits at a desk all day? Should I go to the funeral tomorrow to support her?

I stopped on that last one.

Was I wanting to go tosupporther, or for my selfish reason of wanting toseeher? I hadn’t seen Haley in over ten years and hadn’t thought about her—okay, maybe I had every so often—until I had that dream last week. Since then, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head. I’d been telling myself for the last two weeks that I just needed to focus on training and she would eventually slip my mind.

But she hadn’t.

Then I saw her this morning in the coffee shop and all of the feelings from years ago came back like a tidal wave. It was almost as if they had just been hibernating away in my brain and the sight of her sounded the alarms and woke them up. When I wrapped my arm around her as she started to cry, the feel of her leaning into me made the crotch of my pants get tight. I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“You cannot go to her dead husband’s funeral, you sick bastard,” I mumbled to myself, closing my laptop and lying back on the couch. “Today was a fluke, a freak chance, a once-in-a-million weird event that will never happen again. She probably doesn’t even want you there and youdefinitelyshould not go.”

While my voice was saying one thing, my brain was thinking another.What if it wasn’t a fluke, but an opportunity? What if seeing her today, here in Charlotte, is a second chance? I would be the dumbest fucking person on the planet if I didn’t go and try to see her again, right? I will just go tomorrow, be a friend, and let her know that I'm here if she needs anything. That’s an okay thing to do, we’re childhood friends, for Christ’s sake! It would be rude of me NOT to go and support her through this trying time.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I weighed all my options before opening my laptop once more to write down the address of the services. My mind was made up as I walked down the hallway to pull my best suit out from the back of my closet.

I was going to need it tomorrow.

The next morning,I woke up early, went for a run before the sun came up, and stopped at the same coffee shop as yesterday hoping I would run into her again, just in case. When I didn’t see her inside, I tried to hide my disappointment before telling the barista my order. Once my coffee was ready and in hand, I gave up hope that I would be lucky enough to see her here twice and headed home. Once there, I showered, scrubbed my entire body, and stood in front of the mirror as I shaved close and tight to my face. I rarely shaved so close, but it felt appropriate for the event I’d be attending.

I walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around my waist, and started to get dressed. I picked out a solid black suit, white dress shirt, and a long black tie to go with my jacket and pants. My shoes were also black and formal, but not too formal to where they felt out of place. I paused as I glanced at the expensive bottle of cologne sitting on my dresser, toying with the idea of whether it was appropriate to wear to a funeral or not. For fear of getting nervous and sweating, I put two dabs of it on my wrists followed by the watch my mother gifted to me after I was drafted for the first time.

The only thing I could focus on as I drove to the funeral home was Haley. Her face from when we were kids. Her face staring back at me that night in her dorm room. And her face from yesterday in the coffee shop when we saw each other for the first time, so many years later. I wondered what she would look like today when she saw me. Would she be surprised? Excited? Pissed? All of the above? I settled on all three but pushed my foot down on the pedal anyway.

I did the thirty-minute drive in just under twenty and thanked the gods above that I didn’t get pulled over for speeding. Once I parked, I sat in my car for a moment and watched as people dressed in black filed into the small, tan brick building. The funeral home was nice but looked like a funeral home and it gave off an energy that nothing good would come from going inside. Maybe that was just my head screaming at me to turn the car back on and go home before I made an ass of myself. I knew I shouldn’t be here, I had no right. But the pained look on Haley’s face from yesterday pushed those thoughts out of my head. Pulling my key from the ignition, I got out of the car, straightened my tie, and headed for the door.

As I walked through the crowded lobby, the looks on people’s faces told me that I was either unknown or uninvited. I smiled politely as I walked through the hallway, following the stream of people heading toward an open set of double doors. Once inside, I noticed a large wreath of white and yellow flowers surrounding an oversized photo of a man I recognized as Connor from the obituary I read last night. I moved off to the side, letting the people behind me in, and looked around the room.

There were a lot of people here but they didn’t all look like family. Would I have this many people at my funeral when I died? I found it hard to believe seeing as how I lived alone and my family was a total of ten people. Harvey and his family would come, but other than them, I wasn’t sure who else would. I guess the obituary was right; Connor was loved by a lot of people.

I continued to take in the scene, noticing an older woman crying quietly at the front of the room and an older man standing next to the TV that was filtering through family photos of Connor. As my eyes made it toward the casket—which was closed, thank god—I felt a prickle on the back of my neck and goosebumps spring up on my arms.

That’s when I saw her, standing alone toward the front of the room wearing a modest black dress that hit just below her knees and a white sweater over her shoulders that was buttoned once across her chest. She was wearing black tights, which struck me as odd seeing how it was August in North Carolina and still hot as fuck outside. On her feet were a pair of black, shiny heels that made her legs look like they went on for miles. The thing that struck me the most though was her cinnamon-colored hair and how it fell softly at her shoulders. I always loved her hair and was happy to see she never colored it. Her nose was red, indicating she had been crying and her cheeks were flushed.

When I finally made my way to her eyes, I saw that they were looking straight back at me, piercing me through the busy room of people. As her eyes met mine, her expression was one I had unfortunately seen too many times before.

An expression that told me she couldn’t believe what I was doing.

Pissed was the right answer then, I guess.

10

HALEY | NOW

Ifelt him before I saw him, a warm tingling feeling crept up my neck. When I turned and saw him standing in the doorway, I had to bite my inner lip to stop myself from crying out. Just like the day before at the coffee shop, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

What the fuck is Camden Johnson doing at my husband’s funeral?

I noticed him first and watched as he scanned the room, taking in all the mourners and crying people. Eventually, though, his eyes found me, and we stood across the room exchanging silent messages.

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