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“Are you saying… he could have already…”
“If he hasn’t reached out by now, that’s a possibility to consider.”
I hang up on Sullivan, sure that he’s wrong. Cullen would never get to this point without leaving a message for me. A letter. An email.Something. He wasn’t a figment of my imagination. He didn’t just blip out of existence. He’ll reach out to me.
There’s no energy left in me to open the food stall or film a video. All day, I compulsively check my phone. Mom tiptoesaround me, taking over most of the duties of cleaning, picking up Josiah from school and going grocery shopping.
My heart rises each time my phone rings, only to sink when it turns out to be someone other than Cullen.
I stay up until midnight.
Sometime after three a.m., I fall asleep and it’s the sound of a door bell ringing that wakes me hours later.
A tall, thin man stands outside my apartment, dressed in a suit. My mom stands behind me, watching the man with suspicious eyes.
“Can I help you?” I croak.
“Ms. Nardi Davis?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Whitaker Davenport. I’m here to carry out the last intentions of Mr. Ronan Cullen.” He hands me an envelope. “This is a letter for you, ma’am.”
I take it. Cullen’s signature is on the front. The paper is so light and yet it feels like I’m holding an anchor.
“W-what is that?” Mom points outside.
“It’s a new stove.” Whitaker arches a brow. “There are a series of purchases Mr. Cullen wanted released to you. This is the first.”
I step back.
Mom stares at the stove. “We don’t have space for a stove that big.”
I’m backpedaling, hearing nothing but the term ‘wanted’.
As in past tense.
As in he’s no longer with us.
“That won’t be an issue,” Whitaker says. “If it doesn’t fit the space, we can exchange it for another.”
As mom steps back to admit the delivery man, I sink into the couch. My heart is slamming against my sternum and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.
In my mind, Cullen isn’t gone. He doesn’tfeelgone. Wouldn’t I know? We were so connected. I love him so much. Wouldn’tI sense that he wasn’t with us?
Heart in my throat, I open the letter and see only one line.
To Nardi,
Please make my New Year’s wish come true.
Tears fill my eyes. All the strength I thought I had, all the promises I made to mom and Josiah, all the lies I told about how ‘fine’ and ‘okay’ I was, come crumbling down.
The truth knocks into me like a freight train speeding down a track.
He’s gone.
Clutching the letter to my chest, I rock back and forth and weep.