Forgetting August (Lost & Found) by J. L. Berg

perfect for him. Over the past few weeks, I’d barely seen him and when he was home, he was always locked away in his office, shouting and barking commands at some poor peon on the other end of the phone line. As proud as I was of him and the rapid success he’d gained over the past few years, I secretly did miss the tiny house we’d shared on the other side of town. It had been drafty and cold during the winter and sometimes the stove didn’t work, but no one ever yelled.
    Life had been much simpler.
    “I don’t want you to go, Everly,” he replied sternly, his eyes meeting mine in the vanity mirror.
    This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to keep me at home, but I’d always won out in the end.
    Turning, I met his stare, but when I’d usually see him soften, now I saw nothing but hard edges and cold lines.
    Where did you go, August?
    “But I’ve spent hours getting ready.” I faked a pout, giving him a coy smile that was sure to melt his grumpy attitude.
    But he didn’t budge.
    “Oh, come on, August,” I said, standing so I could slide my arms around his shoulders. He didn’t reciprocate my movements and held his posture rigid. So I tried harder, pressing my body closer to his. As my breasts molded against his chest, I felt his breath hitch. His head turned toward mine, and for the briefest moment his nose touched my neck, inhaling the scent of my perfume before he pushed me away.
    “You will stay here, Everly,” he said firmly and then he was gone.
    And I was left alone.
    *  *  *
    I don’t know how long I sat in front of his driveway, staring at the massive house, holding the steering wheel of my old beat up Kia like it was a symbol for the new life I’d forged out of the ashes of the one I’d left behind.
    Wiping a tear I hadn’t realized I’d shed, I picked up the check lying on the passenger seat and took a deep breath.
    No time like the present , I told myself.
    Pushing the door open, I stepped out of the car and took several sure strides toward the door, hoping that the rage and anger I’d felt back at home would resurface as I stepped closer and closer to his doorway.
    Tears weren’t allowed at this gathering.
    Pressing the buzzer, I wrapped my hands around the folded piece of paper and waited, trying not to notice the brass knocker and how it so beautifully displayed our intertwined initials.
    A housewarming gift from his partner. The man who’d made all his dreams come true.
    Or so he’d said.
    Prior to landing the job of the century, August had worked at a large, well-known firm. He’d interned there during his senior year and been offered a job before graduation. He earned a base salary and decent commission on sales. It had been a nice life for the two of us. Nothing compared to the drug-induced haze of the stockbroker life depicted in the movies, but we were happy.
    Or we were until August became reacquainted with his old friend Trent. Trent and August had been fraternity brothers, and from the moment I met him I knew Trent was trouble.
    He was slimy. There was no other word to adequately describe him, and the longer I knew him, the better the word fit.
    He managed to pull August out of his quaint little job and lure him into bigger, greater possibilities. Suddenly, August and Trent were partners, working night and day on the start-up company Trent had founded just a year prior.
    I’d never been one to believe in the old saying, “If it’s too good to be true, it generally is,” but when our bank account starting doubling, and we were celebrating crazy deals with champagne that cost more than a month’s rent, I started to get worried.
    August assured me everything he was doing was legal, and I believed him—at first. But the money just grew and grew, seemingly without end.
    Along with my panic.
    I tried to ask him to be cautious.
    That’s when our open line of communication had ended. Much like everything else.
    The door flew open, severing my thoughts of the