Page 23 of When I'm Gone
Luke dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Annie’s pats turned into large circles on his back.
“Oh, Luke, I’m sorry. This was too soon.”
“No. It’s not that.” He wiped his fingers around the edges of his eyes to catch any escaping moisture. “It’s the beer. I think it’s making me emotional.”
“What has you all worried about this Neal guy?” Annie settled back on her stool, staring at the side of Luke’s face.
He finished off the last few drops of beer in his bottle, putting the empty on the coaster in front of him. “His number was in Nat’s phone. I’d never heard of him before, but then there was this letter ...”
Annie shook her head like she was editing herself. “Fine.” She held out her hands. “So, what did she say to freak you out like this?”
Luke didn’t know how to explain it. There was nothing specific in her letter or even in her phone that made him concerned. It was more the lack of something.
“Nothing really. He helped her out of a bad situation at school. The thing is, Natalie and I didn’t keep secrets from each other, and I thought she didn’t keep secrets from you. Look, she even lied about who he was when you met him. Why would she do that?”
Annie spun the straw around in her drink—no quick answer or pat on the back this time. The ice clinked against the glass, loud in the silence between them.
“Okay, I don’t have an answer for that one. But come on, Luke, don’t be an idiot.” She placed her hand on his crossed arm, fingers cold from holding the frosty glass. “Natalie loved you. She’d never do anything to hurt you. What? Do you think they were having an”—she paused and looked around to make sure no one was listening before whispering—“affair?”
The word made a heavy, nauseous feeling settle in his chest. Did he think Natalie had had a real-life affair with this man? It was almost impossible trying to imagine her sneaking around to sleep with another man. But it didn’t matter; their mystery connection made him feel almost as uncomfortable as the idea of an intimate connection.
“I don’t really knowwhatto think. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Annie put her hand on his forearm. He stared at her long thin fingers, nails painted a delicate shade of pink. They were nothing like Natalie’s, but somehow it gave him a similar kind of comfort.
“Think about it this way—when would she even have had time to have an affair? She was too busy with you and the kids and school and, oh, I don’t know, maybe ...cancer.”
Annie was right. How was he worried that Natalie was having an affair when she was weak, nauseous, bald, and living each day scared of dying? The situation suddenly struck him as ludicrous. “Oh, I’m such an asshole.” He shook his head, half laughing. “Okay, I needed to hear that, Annie.”
“Well, if you liked itthatmuch, next time I can slap you.” She smacked his forearm hard enough to sting.
“Ouch!”
“Come on; you deserved it.”
“Fine.” He laughed. “I deserved it. Now unless you intend to get violent again, I’m going to use the restroom.” He stood, letting her hand fall off his arm but caught it in his before it hit her leg. “Thank you for always knowing the right thing to say.”
“It’s not hard; I just tell the truth.” She gave his hand a squeeze and let go. “You want another?” she asked, tipping her head toward his empty beer bottle.
“I’m driving so I’d better not.”
“I’m not drinking tonight so others may enjoy themselves more thoroughly,” she proclaimed and gave a semibow, laughing. “Don’t let me waste all that on Brian. I’ll take you home, and we can grab your car in the morning.”
Luke bounced the idea around in his mind. Hewasfeeling looser.
“All right, one more.” Luke held up his index finger, heading to the rear of the bar, where a glowing red sign blinkedRESTROOMS. Pushing past a swinging door, he flicked on the cold water and threw some on his face. The chill of the water stung his skin and gave him a slight brain freeze but also felt so refreshing. Three handfuls later, he ran his wet fingers through his hair. It was getting longer than he was used to, but a haircut was one of the least important things on his to-do list.
Between his hair and the fluorescent lights, Luke was surprised at how old he looked. His irises were vividly blue, but that was only because the bloodshot whites of his eyes made them stand out. His perma-stubble was so light he wasn’t sure if it was blond or white. But it was the circles under his eyes that made him look hollow and old. Natalie wouldn’t even recognize him.
He missed her so much it hurt. Two days without reading her letters, and she seemed farther away than ever. Yanking seven or eight paper towels from the dispenser, Luke dried his face, dumped them into the garbage, and then stared at his reflection. Annie was right—he was being an idiot. Forget the beer sitting on the bar waiting for him; he needed to go home, open Natalie’s most recent letters, and bring her back to him.
Luke marched out of the restroom, double-checking his pockets for keys. He’d say good-bye and thank you to Annie and go. She’d understand. She always understood.
Approaching the bar, Luke noticed the bartender, Mick, standing in front of Annie. Luke’s open beer sat on the counter, and Mick was leaning over it doing that annoying flexing thing, taking obvious glances at Annie’s breasts.
Luke searched the room for Brian, hoping to signal him in to rescue Annie. He located him quickly at a table a few feet from the bar, but to Luke’s surprise, Brian was casually watching the interaction between Annie and Mick. Next to him sat his severely buzzed buddies. He didn’t look concerned at all. In fact, he was laughing.
Annie leaned away from the bar, glancing around the room, arms crossed tightly around her chest, giving obvious signs of disinterest, but Mick didn’t seem to notice. When he reached across the bar to tuck a piece of hair behind Annie’s ear, Luke had seen enough. He took three long strides across the room and dragged the barstool out loudly, the rubber stoppers scraping the floor.
