Gabe. I’ve had a lot of emotions to work through, Mirella.”
There’s another long pause and I struggle to think of something to say.
“I should go,” he says. “This isn’t right. I’ve promised Bridget I would no longer be communicating with you. Unfortunately, I will not be contacting you for the time being.”
My heart sinks. He can’t be there for me. But I get it. “I understand.”
“Be well. I will be thinking about you,” he whispers just before the line goes dead.
I spend the next hour absent-mindedly cleaning the house. I clean up the breakfast mess, sweep the floor, pick up the girls’ toys, and organize the craft corner. My life might be a complete mess, but my house sure doesn’t have to be. And all the while, I tell myself Gabe will come back to me.
I’m making Chloe’s bed when I hear the door downstairs. I bound down the stairs to meet him. For a fleeting second or two, I’m convinced he’s changed his mind.
But when I see his face, there’s so much hurt and sorrow, I know he hasn’t forgiven me. He doesn’t quite look at me when he says, “I’m just here to see the girls and grab a few things.”
I take him in. He seems a little worn out but he’s as beautiful as ever. His hand is still bandaged, and as I stare at it, I’m reminded of the mess we’re in. I inch toward him and wrap my arms around his waist. The cotton of his t-shirt is soft against my hands.
He presses his large hands gently on my shoulders and pulls me from him. “I can’t do this.”
I look into his eyes, willing him to remember, remember everything we’ve shared but his gaze is completely empty.
Chloe and Claire run up from the basement. “Daddy!” they both squeal.
Chloe goes in for a hug. “You’re out of the hospital! Are you all better?”
He looks at me with a cocked brow.
“Uh… yes… you were in the hospital because you were in a car wreck,” I tell him. “But amazingly, your car is fine. And the Whites next door know all about it, by the way…if they ever ask you about it.”
“Oh, okay,” he says. He knows I’ve been telling stories, attempting to retain an iota of normalcy in all our lives.
He squeezes Claire into his arms. “I was at a friend’s,” he tells her. “Daddy’s staying there for a little while.”
I wonder what friend he’s talking about. I wonder if he’s staying at Jason’s, or Rob’s, or Stephen’s. Probably Jason’s — he’s his best friend. I’m sure his wife is happy. She practically salivates whenever she sees Gabe.
Claire’s sweet little chin trembles as she asks, “But why?”
“Why are you not staying here?” Chloe asks him with wide-eyed concern.
His voice is disturbingly even and flat as he tells them he has to help out a friend for a little while — a little white lie. I’m relieved by his answer. Maybe he’s just buying time. Maybe there’s still a chance for us.
But still, my chest tightens at the sight of the three of them in a sad embrace.
Gabe reminds me again he’s just here to get some of his stuff. I trail behind him as he goes to the basement to grab a large suitcase. It’s huge but he manages to carry it with ease, as if it were just a small evening bag. He makes his way upstairs and grabs some clothing, underwear and socks. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at me once. I follow him to the washroom where he grabs some toiletries. He’s just a blurred picture at this point — my eyes are full of tears. I consider begging him to stay, but I know it’s no use.
He pauses for a second and sits on the bed, shoulders hunched. He stares at the photo on my nightstand, a photo I just printed of the girls on the boardwalk at Pelee Island. He grabs the frame and turns away from me as he packs it in his suitcase. I know he’s crying. I can see his shoulders quake and I can hear soft whimpers. I inch closer, rest my head against his back and wrap my arms around him. The hard grasp of his hand around my wrist makes my stomach drop. “Don’t,” is all he says and I let go immediately.
I follow him still, like a sad little puppy as he rummages through the den, grabs a few documents, his iPad