Page 64 of When I'm Gone
From: N. Townsend.
The name was crossed out with a simpleXand next to it was written:
Anonymous.
The flowers. The letters. Everything—they’d all been sent by the infamous “Dr. Neal.” Somewhere deep inside he’d known it ever since he saw Neal’s name on Natalie’s phone. But to see the proof in his hand, scribbled down by a careless florist, made his fist clutch the pen he’d taken along with the invoice. Why? Why was this man such an important part of Natalie’s life? Why did he keep showing up in every corner of her existence? Who thehellwas he? That anger he’d been running from his whole life boiled deep in his gut, crawled up his arms and neck, and made him want to hit something.
“Uh, you sign there.” Kal pointed vaguely at the bottom of the page. Luke lifted the pen to sign but then had a thought.
“Is there any way I can get a copy of this?” Luke held the pen off the paper. If he signed it, Kal wouldn’t have a reason to help him anymore.
“I only get paid if I turn in the yellow sheet ... with your signature.” Kal waited with his hands in his pockets, his grungy brown hair hanging into his eyes. “But you can take a pic of it if you want,” he added.
Yes. His phone. Holding out the paper, Luke centered it in the frame and enjoyed the sharp click of the phone’s internal camera. Finally some proof. After checking to make sure the quality of the picture was clear enough, Luke scribbled his name across the bottom and handed it back to Kal.
“Thanks,” he said, heading back inside, closing the door behind him. The picture on his phone was clear enough to read every line. Luke glared at the flowers. There was a small rectangular card from the florist shop with a handwritten note in unfamiliar handwriting.
July 30
Luke, Happy Anniversary. My love for you goes on forever.
Love, Natalie
“Liar,” Luke whispered. Yes. That’s what she was. Whatever she was hiding with Dr. Neal as her accomplice, it was something she’d been lying to him about for years, decades even. “Liar,” he said again, louder, his voice reverberating through the nearby stairwell. The room turned a hazy shade of red, his breathing coming fast, like he’d been running. He picked up the vase full of tulips, each happy blossom another reminder of all the beautiful lies she told him.“Liar!”Luke yelled.
The cool vase suddenly burned in his hand. He couldn’t stand looking at it anymore. Listening to the monster inside him, he hefted the vase, bouquet and all, across the room. The ceramic bounced off the wall with a thunk and then crashed into a million turquoise pieces when it hit the floor. Water, flowers, and glass spread out across the floor like blood.
“Damn it!” Luke slammed his hand on the side table. His knees buckled, and he fell to floor. Who was he anymore? Where was that life he—and everyone else—thought was so perfect? Broken. Just like the vase. And the parts of that man, his father, who he’d worked so hard to keep repressed, they were taking over.
The water spread across the floor, and one edge crept slowly toward the letter he’d accidentally dropped earlier. He watched it eagerly, both wanting it to stop short of the envelope and wanting to watch the letter consumed at the same time. When the water’s edge touched Natalie’s sealed letter, Luke stretched out one hand, ready to save it, read it, add it to the pile in the box on his end table. No. He curled his fingers back into his palm, pushed off the floor, and turned his back to the destruction behind him. He’d let her words drown.
AUGUST
CHAPTER 26
Luke grabbed another handful of dresses from the closet, including the floral one from their Easter pictures and the silky green one Natalie wore when they went on that cruise. He yanked on them till they flew off the hanger with a crack. Another one broken. Luke didn’t care, and he had a whole rack full of broken hangers to prove it. Beside him was a large black bag, like the ones he used when doing yard work.
He took in another deep breath through his mouth, trying to avoid inhaling her scent, forcing himself to live without it. Two more dresses, and then he’d be on to shoes. Each bag, once full, went to the attic. At first he’d planned on donating all the clothes to Goodwill, but as he stared to write down the items for his taxes, Luke knew he wasn’t ready to give away her things. Not because he thought she was coming back or even because he was sentimental, but because May would kill him. So, the attic it was until May was old enough to go through the belongings herself.
The attic was stifling. And after working six large bags through a human-size hole, Luke’s shirt was starting to stick to his back. Time to take a break, and also time to do what he’d been avoiding all day, for two days actually. Guiding the pull-down ladder back up into its resting spot, he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt. Then Luke made his way downstairs to the thermostat, going the long way into the kitchen so he didn’t have to look at the shattered vase and wilted flowers on the floor in the entry.
Rummaging under the sink, Luke collected a garbage bag, a pair of yellow gloves, and rags from underneath the kitchen sink. Armed with these weapons of redemption, he forced himself into the entry, where the wreckage of his temper tantrum lay undisturbed. Slivers of thick blue ceramic dotted the floor. Starting at the door to the basement, Luke went to his knees, his joints creaking as he lowered himself to the floor. The yellow gloves were stiff and made his palms sweat as he picked up each piece of fragmented ceramic and dropped them into the empty garbage bag. As each piece clinked into the bag, Luke turned the fragments into a puzzle in his mind, trying to figure out which piece went where in the ruined vase.
When the last few chunks of ceramic tumbled into the sagging bag, all the pieces came together into a mental mosaic. Only one piece was missing. Luke scanned the room, searching for the rogue blue splinter. The floor, the stairs, the front door—nothing. Then he saw it, a little piece of turquoise and white sticking out from under the dried-out, crinkled envelope of Natalie’s ruined letter.
Luke rushed over to the rectangle and tried to push it out of the way, but it clung to the floorboard greedily. He went down to one knee and reached out again, pulling at one of the corners until it came up with a rip. A patch of blue stuck to the floor, adhesive from the envelope trapping the last piece of his puzzle underneath. Pinching the shard between his gloved fingertips, Luke held it up to the light. It was the right one. He dropped it into the bag with a satisfying clink. As he was about to dump the damaged letter into the bag along with the vase, something caught his eye. A few words peeked out from the gash in the envelope.
“It was our little secret ...”
Luke put down the bag of broken pieces on the counter and snatched the envelope out of the garbage. Without the usual time he took to anticipate the letter or estimate its length, he ripped it open, the fragile envelope dissolving wherever he touched it.
As soon as it was free, he unfolded the smudged pages. He’d been wrong; the letter wasn’t about their wedding anniversary. It was about a day he’d rather forget. Rushing through her niceties and anniversary wishes, Luke zoned in on the first mention of their other anniversary.
I’m having a good day today, so I thought it was time to write this letter. I’ve been dreading this one, but before I die I want you to know what that day was like for me. I want there to be a record of what I saw so maybe you can understand the choices I’ve made.
My father found your mother and sister in your parents’ bed at 10:00 a.m. Two officers drove up to your home within five minutes, an ambulance twenty, and a coroner forty-five minutes later. The police thought you were dead, and for about an hour, I believed them.
They were in our house, talking to my father about what he’d seen. They didn’t know I could hear them, but I could. Your mom and your baby sister, both dead. You and your dad, missing. They ran through so many possible scenarios my head started to swim. When they found your dad’s car up by the lighthouse, I almost believed their murder/suicide setup.
