Page 14 of Forever Winter

“Come see me. I'll be back in Los Angeles in the morning. We can talk. We can fix this. Please Kate. Let me make this right.” My voice comes out begging, pleading, because I need her. Not just like I needed her before. Or maybe exactly like I needed her before but maybe I didn't know what that meant before. Maybe I didn't understand what I'd be missing once she was gone.

“I can't. Look, I have to go,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Katie. I know I wasn't fair to you. But if I could just explain—”

“I'm getting married.”

My heart stops. And I can't breathe. And there's another one of those weights crushing down on me. This time, in the pit of my stomach. I press my fist to my mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

“James?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

“James?” she says again.

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I heard you. When?”

“Six weeks. You can't call me again. Okay?” There's a sound in the background, something muffled. A voice, a man's maybe. There's another twist in my stomach. “I have to go. It was...” She sighs. “It was really nice talking to you James. I… I hope you’re well.”

I don’t love you Kate.

But I do. I do fucking love her. And now I’m too late.

She’s getting married.

Fucking married.

A notification sounds on my phone. It’s close enough to my flight that I can check-in. I click it and stare down at the screen. Atlanta to LA, 9 am. The button is right there. Check-in. I could just press it and then that would be that. I’d be on a flight home in less than six hours. Check-in. Just fucking press it.

But now I don’t want check in. I don’t want to go home. I want to go to her.

To Kate. My Katie. Not anyone else’s. Mine.

It’s 9 am and I’m on a plane.

7

It’s2pmandI’m staring my old man right in his face.

I think it’s been five years since I’ve seen him. I think it’s been ten years since we’ve had a conversation that didn’t end in him yelling and me storming out. Or maybe longer. He’d called a few times in the last year, but I’d never made a point of calling the man back.

“Dad,” I say quietly.

“James,” he says back. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?”

“Course,” he croaks. “Didn’t know you were comin’.”

I rub my hand against the back of my neck and clutch my suitcase with the other. “Yeah, I didn’t either.” He stands there frozen, almost stunned, like he’s trying to decide if I’m real or not. “You gonna invite me in or what?”

He clears his throat. “Right. Yeah, come on in. Susan’s at the store picking up somethin’ for dinner tonight. You stayin’?”

“Yes,” I say as I step into the house and drop my bag on the floor. I could have gotten a hotel. I’d thought about it when I landed, but when I got into a cab, I oddly found myself directing the driver here. “That a problem?” I ask.

“Course not.”

The place isn’t at all like I remember it. Seems as though Susan’s replaced all my dad’s old, stained furniture with plush grey couches and a recliner. The drab wood of the kitchen cupboards has been painted a bright, clean white, and the old kitchen table has been replaced with something darker and more modern. No more wallpaper or old carpets, no more piles of junk. Not at all like the house I grew up in.

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