Until There Was You by J.J. Bamber Page A

good way to kill them?" David asked.
    "I don't know. It can't be comfortable… How would you react if you were walking home from the bank and someone hurtled a boatload of rocks at you? If you didn't die, you would at least be pissed." Nate sat down and took a gulp of the beer that David had bought for him.
    David was quiet for a second and Nate wondered what was going through his mind. David seemed relaxed and comfortable, like he always had been, but Nate wasn't sure that everything was fine between them. "Yep. Yep I would be pissed."
    "See." They sat in silence for a second. Nate opened his mouth, closed it again, considered what he was about to say, and began. "You know… I should have come back for the funeral. I tried to, but I couldn't come back."
    "It's okay."
    "No. Not really. I wanted to come. I planned to come. Then something stopped me. I just got in the car and I couldn't make it drive. Every single good memory I have of this place includes the two of you. And her not being here… It just seemed like a whole bunch of shit. And I was too much of a pussy. I couldn't stand to have the only good things I remembered about my life here completely trashed." Nate's voice was cut off by a fragile, quiet sob that emerged from the bottom of his throat.
    "What can I say? It was a bad day. It was the worst day. The absolute worst. But you know, the truth is, I wouldn't have even known you were there. I was like a zombie. It's not like it would have been a great day if you'd been there. And she got to see you; we got to see you, the month before in the city." David sounded sad but at peace, like he had been broken apart but had gone some way to repairing the wounds.
    "Yeah, maybe. But you shouldn't be comforting me… It should most definitely be the other way around. I'm such a jerk." Nate sighed, circling the edge of his pint glass with his finger. He couldn't bring himself to look at David's understanding face. A part of him wanted to be punished, to have his actions thrown back at him.
    "I won't argue you on that. You're a complete jerk. But that's just because you have a bad personality... It's got nothing to do with the funeral. Jen loved you; I could always tell when she had gotten a letter from you. She would beam. She'd dance around. That doesn't stop because you found it too hard to come to the funeral." David's voice was a little rawer at the sound of his wife's name, like it was the first time he had said it in a while.
    "I hate you so much… I wish you would just react to things the same way that a normal person would. You know, when she was going on your first date, I told her that you had shifty eyes and she didn't listen. But I was right." Nate managed an almost-smile.
    "Do you remember that poofy little skirt she wore that night?"
    "The neon lime one? How could I forget? And she had her hair all puffed out like she was wearing a weave."
    "She looked like a glamorous Ninja Turtle."
    "Are you kidding me? She was picking that outfit out for months. I think even before you asked her out. She skipped outta the door like a homeless-looking Hollywood star."
    "She really was something, wasn't she?"
    "She was pretty much everything."
    They stayed silent, thinking about the person that they had lost. Nate tried to find the lesson that could be learned from losing Jennifer so early, but he couldn't quite find it in the emotional rubble. The silence was sad but, surprisingly, almost comfortable, as if they both knew that the other person needed it.
    "I still write her letters," Nate said, breaking the quiet.
    "You do?"
    "Uh-huh. When I don't know what else to do. I think all of my books have sort have been letters to her."
    "I feel that when I read them. Plus, that was a nice segue." David grinned. "I wanted to ask you for a favor."
    "No," Nate said, deadpan.
    "What do you mean?" David asked, clearly confused.
    "Every time I do you a favor, I end up hanging upside down off a building, or on a boat to Amsterdam, or