Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“All I do is hurt her.”

She reached to his arm, and her face saddened. He braced for it. He knew what she was going to say before she even said it, and she was right. That was the hard part. “Then you need to let her go.” He just nodded his head numbly. He wanted to fight it. He wanted to refuse to accept it, but then he saw Bailey’s face standing on the landing at the top of his stairs, pinning him to his spot with her glare. The glare he could handle. But it had been her tears that destroyed him.

“She heard our conversation the other morning. I thought she was asleep. The bedroom door was closed. I just thought she was too far away to hear, but she wasn’t.”

“Oh, Darren.” His mother looked as guilty as he felt.

“Well, the letting go part happened whether I wanted it to or not as a result. She left, and I didn’t stop her.”

His mom just stared at the tabletop between them. Her eyes teared as he watched, and then she dashed them away. When she looked back up to him, her eyes were glossy but resolved. She took his hands in hers. “Losing your sister was hard enough. Losing the woman you loved at the same time. . .” She just shook her head. “You endured so much on your own by keeping that secret.” He nodded again.

To say a weight was lifted was accurate to a point. For the first time since he’d realized how he felt long ago, he wasn’t hiding his feelings for Bailey—what they had been, what they hadn’t been, what he’d wanted them to be. But as liberating as that honesty felt, he was still weighted down by the pain of what he’d done to her, and worse than that, what he’d likely continue to do to her if she stayed for him. He had to let her go.

He didn’t once call her or show up at his home while she was there with Macy over the next few days, and before she knew it, she was packing up her life again. Every time her phone rang, she expected it to be him, but it never was. He wasn’t going to try to stop her from leaving, and sad as that was, it didn’t much matter. She was going whether he asked her to stay or not. She’d learned her lesson. She’d learned it painfully.

Michelle called her every day and tried to talk her into bailing on her job at his home, but she couldn’t do that. He worked through Wednesday of that week and then wasn’t back on the schedule until Saturday, so that gave Bailey all day Thursday and Friday to pack and be depressed. She wasn’t going to see him anyway, so his schedule was a non-issue, but she sobbed on Wednesday afternoon when it was time to leave his home for the last time. Macy bounced, slobbered, and barked while Bailey cried, and after she’d sat on the floor and cuddled with the blonde, curly-haired girl, she finally stood, put her key on the table, and left.

She came home to see the two large garbage cans she’d filled while packing had been emptied at her front door again, but at least they’d left her new paint job and windows alone. She sat, still straddling her bike, just staring at the garbage. She didn’t need this. Perhaps she should see the silver lining—they were making it easier to see moving away as a really good thing . . . but all she saw was a shit load of clean-up that she didn’t have time for. Assholes.

There was a note on her door this time, and she was guessing it was going to be from her secret admirer. She didn’t want to read it, but how the hell does one not read such a thing. Once she’d waded through the heaps of garbage, she snatched the paper that was stapled on the door, and then she read.

Not much she didn’t already know people thought of her—just a reiteration of what had been scrawled across her walls last time. She was a killer, and she was a drunk (not true), and how dare she come back to this town. Fucking assholes!

She called Michelle, and ten minutes later she pulled in. Her face was scrunched up before she even climbed out of her car. She climbed out and grimaced, but she stowed it quickly and turned to her, winking. “Oh, Bailey. I’m gonna miss you. Look at you.”

“I’m lookin’. Don’t see much right now.” She smirked, but the moment she reached down to grab a rumpled-up bill she’d chucked in the garbage a couple days before, Michelle caught her arm. “Well, I do. One of the strongest bitches I ever met. And I’m allowed to call you bitch because I take the cake on bitch, and I mean it with the respect it deserves.”

“I’m not strong. You are. Jess was too. You were the strong ones. I was the sweet one.” Her eyes shifted away for a moment. “How did this happen to me?” She looked at Michelle and smiled. It was a legitimate question. She’d tried to figure out the answer to that question for years, and she knew she wasn’t going to be solving that mystery today.

“You made a mistake, doll. You proved you weren’t as perfect as everyone thought you were. It happens.” Bailey nodded. “But guess what?

“Hmm?”

“I still think you’re pretty perfect. Always have. And regardless of any of it, I still love ya.” She winked again.

“I love you too. And I’m going to miss you too.”

“And Darren too, I s’pose?”

Bailey sighed and smiled. She was smiling a lot given her somewhat odd state. She wasn’t happy to be moving, but there was relief to some extent. It was a bizarre, painful relief. So much pain and sadness and yet still relief. The past few months had been a fight. A battle against something she had no hope of conquering. And whether she was sad to be leaving or not, that fight was being put to rest.

Michelle ran out to get them a pizza after the garbage was collected, and they spent the evening eating and reminiscing.

When Bailey woke the next morning, she decided it was time to pay her oldest and dearest friend in the world a visit. She’d avoided it up to this point, but it would be wrong to drive away into the sunset without having ever done this.

Jess’ gravestone was simple, but large. The plot was adorned with flowers left over from Memorial Day. It had occurred to Bailey that she should visit on Memorial Day, but she couldn’t bring herself to face the crowd of other people who would be visiting their own loved ones in the cemetery. Bailey had visited her father’s headstone, but it had been a few days after the holiday.

Now the cemetery was silent, and she was alone. She stood looking; there was really little else to do in a cemetery unless you were willing to talk out loud to dead people. The most Bailey managed was a “Sorry, Jess.” It came out choked up with tears, and when she turned to leave, he was there. He was watching her, his eyes glossy but restrained, and she watched as he swallowed over a lump in his throat.

“I stopped by your house and drove by the furniture store. Didn’t know where else to look but here.” He almost managed a smile, but it fell flat as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. What I said the other day . . . Well, it doesn’t really matter why I said it. It was wrong, and more than that, I don’t feel that way. Not anymore.”

“Please don’t ask me to stay, Darren. I can’t say no to you, but I. . .” Her voice was choking up.

He shook his head. “No, I know. You have to go. I understand.” He studied her for a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked miserable. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I was for . . . everything.”

“Me too.” He nodded and took a deep breath.

“Oh, here.” He pulled a folded check from his pocket and offered it to her. “Last payment.” She nodded, pocketing the check quickly. “I better go.”

She wanted to beg him to stay, but she nodded instead. That was what this was going to be like for her. She’d want him, but she’d walk away anyway. He lifted his hand in a casual gesture, and when he said bye, she managed to respond in kind even though it hurt to breathe. He walked away, and she watched him. And when he had driven away, she turned back to Jess’ headstone. “Good-bye, Jess. I love you.”

He couldn’t sleep that night, and it was a damn good thing he had the next day off because he could barely think straight. He met his parents for coffee midmorning, and his dad instantly sighed when he took in Darren’s appearance. His mother was less subtle.

“Darren, you look awful.” He supposed he did. But he was only out of medical school and residency for a few years, so to say he looked like hammered shit based solely on the fact he hadn’t slept at all the night before was a stretch. His body knew how to do no sleep; his body did not know how to do losing her again. “So, she’s leaving.”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked at his mother, and then his gaze drifted over to his father, who was studying him with concern as well. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. And I’m not entirely sure I even know how to put any of it into words anyway.” They just watched him as Sally poured coffee. The poor woman spent every waking hour in this restaurant, but at the moment, he was ready to snatch the coffeepot away from her and down it—he was damn glad Sally was there to make her ridiculously strong coffee.

“You don’t have to talk to us about anything you don’t want to talk about. We just worry.”

“Have I changed so much?” The words tumbled out more than they were deliberately spoken, and he instantly wished he could reel them back in.

“Oh, Dare.” His mother’s face was all sadness, and he looked away rather than torment himself with it.

“I guess that answers that question.” He muttered as he shook his head for moment, lost in thoughts and visions of Bailey being hurt by him. “People die all the time. I’m a doctor. I see it constantly.” He forced his eyes up to them. “So, why couldn’t I handle it? You two did. You were devastated. No doubt, but you didn’t . . . you didn’t change. You didn’t degrade into something . . . someone you were never meant to be. There are times when I feel like I’ve turned into an absolute monster. I don’t even know myself anymore. I don’t want this.” He shook his head again, and his mother’s eyes watered while his father put his hand on hers.