Page 9 of When I'm Gone
She scanned them with her eyes and ran her finger along the fan, her nail making a soft ticking noise as she passed each one.
“I’ve never seen them before—well, except that day you showed me the one.” She pointed at Luke’s name looped across the front. “But that is Natalie’s handwriting.” She looked up, eyes wide. “You’re still getting these?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and restacked the blue rectangles into a neat pile and jammed them into his bag. Annie watched him intently.
“Who’s mailing them?” she asked so quietly it must’ve been a question for herself.
“I was hoping you’d know.” He shrugged, a wave of frustration churning inside him. “But I guess that’s too easy.”
It was definitely time to hide away from normal humans again. Pretending was so hard. He’d lived his whole childhood pretending, but twenty-two years later, he’d forgotten what faking it was like. Luke checked his watch, the marbled midnight blue face on a silver band. Natalie gave it to him for their fifth Christmas together. That was the problem with everything he owned: they all carried a memory of her. Unlike the letters, these memories made him feel sad and lonely. “It’s getting late; I should go.”
“Yeah, no problem.” They both glanced over at Clayton, stacking a tower of colored blocks up to his eyeballs. Wouldn’t Brian love the sound those made when they fell to the ground? “You want to say good-bye, or would there be tears?”
“I think he’ll be okay. He’s ready to get out of the house. Plus, he clearly loves you.” Clayton talked about missing Annie only slightly less than missing his mom. It really bothered Luke at first, but at three Clayton didn’t understand the difference between “gone for now” and “gone forever.”
“Well”—she blushed a little—“the feeling is mutual. Now, you’d better get to work. Don’t want you being late on your first day back.” She put her hands on her slender hips, scolding him playfully. It didn’t make him miss Natalie less, but it was still nice to know there was someone else out there who cared about his family. Luke retrieved his keys from his coat pocket.
“Clayton, Daddy is going to work. I love you!” Luke smiled and waved, keeping his farewell light and airy. Clayton glanced up for a fraction of a second and gave a half wave before placing another plastic block on the tower. “See, told you he’d be fine,” Luke said, putting his hand on the cold brass doorknob. Reluctantly, he thrust the door open a crack, the frozen January air penetrating the thin fabric of his dress pants. “Have a good day and call me if you have any questions or concerns, okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Annie murmured, flinching against the blast of cold air. She took the door from him and leaned against it like a shield, only her head peeking out, shouting behind him, “Have a good day!”
By the time he got to the turn in the path leading to the driveway, Clayton was by her feet, his arms wrapped around her legs. Luke waved one more time.
The big kids were at school, and Clayton was definitely happy about spending the day with Annie. Maybe Natalie was right: it was time for Luke to get back to work. A wave of panic washed over him as he climbed inside his car, still mildly warm from the ride over. This was all happening so fast. Natalie wanted them to pretend life was normal, but life couldn’t be normal without her, could it?
Even though things had been hell for the past year, she’d always been there. Even when she was wasting away on a hospital bed in their living room, she’d always open her eyes and smile when he walked by. Until the one morning she didn’t. How could everyone else find it so simple to slip back into life, the world revolving, businesses opening and closing, buying and selling, when the pillow on the right side of his bed was empty every night?
Luke put his forehead against the smooth leather of the steering wheel. Maybe he’d go home and take a nap. No one would ever know. The people at work definitely wouldn’t care. In fact, they might be relieved they didn’t have to tiptoe around the man whose wife had recently died.
A tap on the window made him jump.
Annie, shivering in her gray yoga pants and long-sleeved cotton tee, stood outside his window holding what looked a lot like one of Natalie’s letters. His hand reflexively flew to his pocket to count them. Squinting through the tinted glass, he made out Annie’s name on the front of the envelope. Luke fumbled with the button, and his window rolled down with a whir.
“She gave me one too,” Annie blurted, wrapping one arm around her waist again while she leaned against the SUV with her other arm. “It was a week before she, well, you know, died. She told me not to tell you, but I guess I’m a rebel.”
Luke cringed. So Annie could somehow ignore the ghost of Natalie-past, but he couldn’t.
“Did you open it?” He couldn’t tell. He could never wait to open his, so he’d used his fingers to tear them open, leaving a jagged edge. Annie’s envelope looked brand-new.
“Yeah. She told me I could open it on the day she died.” She shook the envelope; it looked puffy, filled with a lot more sheets of paper than his ever had. Luke was curious. What did Natalie have to say to Annie that took so many pages? And why did she give them to her all at once?
“Can I read it?” He put out his hand, expecting Annie would hand the letter over right away, but she shook her head and held on to the envelope.
“Sorry, Luke. She made me promise I’d never let you read it. Like you said before, it’s private.” Annie repeated his words from the pancake morning.
Luke folded his fingers back and turned his car on with an angry roar. “I don’t know why you even bothered to show it to me,” he sputtered. He didn’t normally let anger get the better of him; he’d made sure to keep that part of him carefully locked away, afraid at how little it would take to turn him into a younger version of his father. That lock had held for over twenty years, and he wasn’t going to let it break now. He mashed his lips together, trying to regain control of his emotions. He’d definitely need a few rounds with the punching bag in the basement today.
“I wanted to show you because ... I don’t want you to think I’m the one delivering those letters.” She folded both of her arms this time, her breath forming a cloud around her head. She had to be freezing. “There’s something funny about those letters, Luke, like someone’s playing a game with you. I don’t know who it is, but it’s not me. If I were you”—she bit her lip, her breath clouding out the corners—“I’d want to know where those letters were coming from before I opened any more.”
He nodded but couldn’t agree. Of course he’d considered where the letters came from—that was the first question on his long list of questions. But he wasn’t going to stop reading them. They weren’t fakes; for now that’s all he needed to know. He’d take those letters as long as the mysterious someone kept mailing them.
“You’d better go inside; you are going to freeze to death, and Clayton might be turning your living room upside down,” he said, placing his hand on the gearshift so she knew he was ready to leave. Her sea-green eyes didn’t leave his face.
“Think about it, okay?” She tapped her letter on the side of his door with a heavy clack.
“Okay.” He flashed a fake smile and put the car in reverse. Annie stood and folded the hand with the letter back under her arms.
“Well, we’ll see you in a few hours.” She backed away for two or three steps, maybe waiting for him to say something. There was nothing he could say without losing his cool.
