Page 136 of Graves

But I’m confident I’ll find a solution for that too.

It almost looks like I’ve found stability and normalcy again.

28

—

Koh

“You coming?” I ask Luke, who is lying on the couch scrolling on his phone. It’s a beautiful Sunday and I’m just about to take Pixie out.

“Nah, you two go ahead,” he answers. “I’ll rest a little longer. I’ll come along later when you take Pixie to your friend’s house.” His eyes flick up from the screen. “Or do you want me to come?”

“Uh… no.” I laugh. “Stay here if you want. I’ll be back in time.”

“Okay! Have fun!” he calls after me in a sing-song voice.

It’s been five days since I moved back in with Luke, and despite his long, exhausting workdays, he’s always in a good mood. It’s actually fun having him as a roommate, even though I know this is only a temporary solution.

I have no idea what expectations Luke has about this. We haven’t talked about it.

A serious conversation is long overdue anyway. His silence about my sudden disappearance a year ago is starting to give me a guilty conscience.

But today is not the day to dwell on those things. I want to enjoy every minute with Pixie before I drop her off at Harriet’s this evening. My spry old friend agreed without hesitation to watch her for the week.

I enjoy the walk with Pixie in the sun and try to convince myself that I can visit her anytime and will already pick her up again on Friday. Still, my heart aches. It feels like a goodbye forever.

During my time as a dog sitter, I fell in love with dogs. Working with them helped me regain a piece of independence I thought I had lost. I’m no longer dog-sitting, but Pixie still gives me the feeling that I have control over my own life.

Yet the thought of leaving her with Harriet creates a queasy feeling in my stomach.

What if I run into Aran?

For some inexplicable reason, I feel guilty toward him, despite the fact that he was the one who yelled at me and pushed me away. The emptiness he left in my life is almost unbearable, so I try my best not to think about him—which barely works.

I keep seeing him kissing me, holding me, making me feel whole.

How he managed that is still a mystery to me, because I’m a complete disaster. My left upper arm is the best proof of that.

While one part of me hopes I’ll run into him tonight, another part panics.

Since Luke lent his car to Kathy so she can take the moving boxes over to a friend today, I have no choice but to take the train. Luke insists on coming with me, which is fine. We’ve had a few pleasant days that reminded me of the old times.

I notice Luke’s occasional subtle attempts to get closer—brushing my arm when he walks past or seeking my proximity while we stand in the bathroom in the evenings. They’re sweet because he does it with a boyish restraint.

But I don’t react.

It’s surprisingly easy, which also gives me a guilty conscience.

Aran left a void in me that I can’t fill. It hollows me out and makes me sad. Neither Luke nor Pixie can chase away this feeling of loneliness.

Luke doesn’t need to know that. He’d only worry unnecessarily. So I keep my deepest thoughts and feelings to myself.

Even though I haven’t answered a single call out of shame in the past week, the last year—and everything before it—weighs far more than a few days of Luke behaving like a gentleman.

When I return to the apartment with Pixie, Luke is sitting at the dining table, absorbed in his laptop.

“We’re back,” I say and start packing Pixie’s things into a bag. It takes less than five minutes, and soon I’m standing next to the table, looking at Luke questioningly. “You still coming? Or do you want to stay here?”