didn’t give me a choice. When Trent showed up, you knew I’d never stick around. You basically kicked me out by welcoming him in.”
My eyes squeezed shut, remembering that day.
I’d just landed my first placement in an art studio. It was a major step in the right direction for me careerwise and I had been nearly vibrating with energy when I’d arrived home, ready to share the news with Everly.
But I never got the chance.
Trent had beat Everly home, and my whole life had crashed around me.
I had pushed her away, but not because I didn’t love her.
I’d have to be dead to stop loving that woman, and even then, I didn’t think my soul would ever cease seeking hers.
“Why’d you do it? Why did you choose money over me—again, August? We were almost there…almost at our perfect forever. And then you pushed me away, like you always do. Why am I never enough?”
“You’d never understand,” I said softly, knowing I could never risk this kind of truth on a drunken phone conversation.
“Do you remember our baby name game?” she asked, her voice more steady and clear now.
“Tell me about it—like before I had my memory. Every detail, Everly,” I requested, grateful for her quick change of pace. I feared she’d ask why, demand to know why a man who said he remembered everything wanted such detail, but in her loose, languid state, she just did as requested and began speaking.
I could nearly feel her warm smile against my cheek as she began to slowly speak in my ear, recounting the memory as she recalled it.
“After we moved into our little house with the flower boxes, I would drag you to garage sales every weekend—without fail. You hated it. Garage sales equaled other people’s used shit in your opinion, and the faces you would make sometimes as we walked past boxes of used clothes and baby gear would make me laugh like a hyena. But I loved it. It was decorating on the cheap, and in no time, I was able to turn our little drafty house into something beautiful.”
I did have a few memories of us in that house, and from what I remembered, it was everything she described. Homey, warm, and comfortable. I hadn’t realized the effort she’d put into making it ours and breathing life into it.
Had she mourned its absence from our lives when I’d whisked her away so suddenly and given her something so new and shiny? Had I even considered how that might have made her feel?
“One day,” she continued, “we were walking through a typical sale. This one was heavy on baby stuff, but I’d managed to find a few pieces I thought I could repurpose for our living room. Just as I was about to haggle with the man for a lower price, something caught my eye. A baby name book. Picking it up, I turned to you and waved it back and forth, waggling my eyebrow, figuring you would have a stroke and die right on the spot. Instead, you just grinned, snatched it from me and handed the man a dollar, which was twice the asking price, and started flipping through it.
“‘Maxim?’ you called out, your eyebrow going all crazy again. ‘For what?’ I asked, thinking you’d gone completely insane. Which you had, by the way.”
A small chuckle escaped my throat.
“‘For our future little munchkin,’ you said. And then it was me who had the heart attack and died.”
My chuckle turned into deep rich laughter, and she joined in.
“You were never afraid of anything back then. I don’t know what happened.”
Me neither, Everly. Me neither , I thought.
“You continued to do this little game all the way home, each name becoming more and more atrocious until I finally caved and gave my opinion. It turned out to be so much fun that whenever we were bored, we’d pull out that battered old book and start going through names, laughing at the terrible ones, highlighting the ones we actually adored, like our own plan for the future, and just enjoying each other.”
She paused, the silence becoming thick.
“I never do things
My eyes squeezed shut, remembering that day.
I’d just landed my first placement in an art studio. It was a major step in the right direction for me careerwise and I had been nearly vibrating with energy when I’d arrived home, ready to share the news with Everly.
But I never got the chance.
Trent had beat Everly home, and my whole life had crashed around me.
I had pushed her away, but not because I didn’t love her.
I’d have to be dead to stop loving that woman, and even then, I didn’t think my soul would ever cease seeking hers.
“Why’d you do it? Why did you choose money over me—again, August? We were almost there…almost at our perfect forever. And then you pushed me away, like you always do. Why am I never enough?”
“You’d never understand,” I said softly, knowing I could never risk this kind of truth on a drunken phone conversation.
“Do you remember our baby name game?” she asked, her voice more steady and clear now.
“Tell me about it—like before I had my memory. Every detail, Everly,” I requested, grateful for her quick change of pace. I feared she’d ask why, demand to know why a man who said he remembered everything wanted such detail, but in her loose, languid state, she just did as requested and began speaking.
I could nearly feel her warm smile against my cheek as she began to slowly speak in my ear, recounting the memory as she recalled it.
“After we moved into our little house with the flower boxes, I would drag you to garage sales every weekend—without fail. You hated it. Garage sales equaled other people’s used shit in your opinion, and the faces you would make sometimes as we walked past boxes of used clothes and baby gear would make me laugh like a hyena. But I loved it. It was decorating on the cheap, and in no time, I was able to turn our little drafty house into something beautiful.”
I did have a few memories of us in that house, and from what I remembered, it was everything she described. Homey, warm, and comfortable. I hadn’t realized the effort she’d put into making it ours and breathing life into it.
Had she mourned its absence from our lives when I’d whisked her away so suddenly and given her something so new and shiny? Had I even considered how that might have made her feel?
“One day,” she continued, “we were walking through a typical sale. This one was heavy on baby stuff, but I’d managed to find a few pieces I thought I could repurpose for our living room. Just as I was about to haggle with the man for a lower price, something caught my eye. A baby name book. Picking it up, I turned to you and waved it back and forth, waggling my eyebrow, figuring you would have a stroke and die right on the spot. Instead, you just grinned, snatched it from me and handed the man a dollar, which was twice the asking price, and started flipping through it.
“‘Maxim?’ you called out, your eyebrow going all crazy again. ‘For what?’ I asked, thinking you’d gone completely insane. Which you had, by the way.”
A small chuckle escaped my throat.
“‘For our future little munchkin,’ you said. And then it was me who had the heart attack and died.”
My chuckle turned into deep rich laughter, and she joined in.
“You were never afraid of anything back then. I don’t know what happened.”
Me neither, Everly. Me neither , I thought.
“You continued to do this little game all the way home, each name becoming more and more atrocious until I finally caved and gave my opinion. It turned out to be so much fun that whenever we were bored, we’d pull out that battered old book and start going through names, laughing at the terrible ones, highlighting the ones we actually adored, like our own plan for the future, and just enjoying each other.”
She paused, the silence becoming thick.
“I never do things
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