Chapter 19

“I’m glad we only have to do this once a month.” I joked as I loaded the last of the bags in the back of the SUV. I could hear Gabe laughing as he put the cart away.

“You should look forward to your one day a month outside of the house.” He mocked. I shrugged.

“I don’t.” I argued. He rolled his eyes.

“So after all this time, you’re still not sick of it?” He asked, leaning against the car. I shook my head.

“I’ve never been happier.” I assured him. He shrugged and pushed back off the car.

“Whatever you say.” He groaned. I rushed ahead of him to the drivers’ side.

“What are you doing?” He questioned. I shrugged.

“I never get to drive.” I pout. He raised his eyebrow.

“You don’t have a license.” He reminded me. I waved my hand at him.

“It’s all back roads anyway.” I hopped up into the car and closed the door behind me. He kept laughing as he rounded to the passengers side. He got in and looked over at me.

“You know how to drive, right?” He asked. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m almost 40 years old. Of course I know how to drive.” I mumbled. He shrugged and put on his seat belt. I’ll admit, it had been a few years since I was behind the wheel. I had enough experience to not be a hazard, but not enough to be a confident driver. So I drove slow. I guess I was driving a little too slow because Gabe started laughing at me.

“You drive like an old lady.” He teased. I briefly looked over at him and stuck my tongue out.

“I’m not a confident driver.” I mumbled. He nodded.

“Pull over.” He insisted. I sighed.

“Fine. I will at the next shoulder.” I agreed. There was one just ahead anyway. I pulled to the right to get off the road. I didn’t notice the car speeding up behind us, trying to pass on the right. His bumper collided with the back of the SUV and sent it flying into the air. It rolled three times before finally coming to a stop. I could hear Gabe’s voice in the distance, but it faded away.

It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the blinding hospital lights. The beeping on the monitor beside me was the first thing to catch my attention. The next, was Gabe asleep in a chair propped beside the bed. The right side of his face was bruised and bloodied, but he wasn’t laying in the bed next to me. I took that as a good sign. I didn’t know if I should try to move or press the button. I honestly wanted to scream. I could feel the IV pumping into my left arm. I could hear the buzzing of the lights over top of me. I could hear scurrying footsteps all around me. It was all too much. I wanted it to stop. I must have involuntarily grunted, because Gabe seemed to stir just then. He sat up and leaned forward.

“Hey. You’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked softly. He was forcing himself to smile, but I could see the fear in his eyes. I could hear it in his voice.

“How bad is it?” I asked shakily. Gabe shook his head.

“It’s minor. Bad on the surface, but, almost nothing broken. So that’s good.” He tried spinning. I raised my eyebrow, immediately regretting the action. I blinked as a warm liquid started pooling under my eye. Gabe jumped up and grabbed a tissue, holding it to my face.

“Your face is a little fucked up.” He explained. I smirked.

“Your face is a little fucked up.” I mocked. He nodded as he sat back down.

“And yet, I’m still sexy as fuck.” He bragged. I rolled my eyes.

“Wait, what’s broken?” I asked a second later. Gabe faked a smile.

“Your arm.” He mumbled. I looked over at him, blinking rapidly.

“What?” I grunted. I hadn’t been brave enough to actually look at my body yet. When I finally looked down, I saw the cast wrapped around my right arm. I closed my eyes tightly.

“This is a punishment handed down from God himself.” I mumbled. Gabe started laughing.

“It was just an idiot driving too fast.” He corrected. I looked over at him flatly.

“It was Michael. The right hand of God.” I corrected. Gabe nodded.

“You’re serious?” He asked. I nodded slowly.

“This is a sign, Gabe.” I added. He kept nodding.

“Let me guess, to never leave the house again? Charlie, you’re already isolated enough.” He tried arguing. I looked up at the blinding white lights on the ceiling.

“No. To stop.” I winced as I tried to move the fingers on my right hand. Gabe shook his head.

“You can’t quit writing. It’s the only thing that has kept you sane all these years.” He sighed. He was right. Although I never intended my work to be read again, I never stopped writing. I just wrote in notebooks that were only looked at by me. Occasionally Gabe. But he didn’t like to cross those boundaries. It was only when he was really curious or he caught me saying something out loud that he thought sounded like a good read. Which was practically never. I looked over at Gabe and smiled.

“I’ve made up my mind Gabe. I’m never picking up a pen again.”

I was able to get out of the hospital a few days later and go home. Only, it didn’t feel like home. When I walked through the door, everything felt out of place. Like I had walked into someone else’s house. I recognized everything, but nothing felt familiar in a really strange way. Of course I had to open the door with my left hand, so, everything felt weird after that. I didn’t do much those first days home. I was overwhelmed with the pain and discomfort. I basically sat on the couch and didn’t move. Gabe insisted on staying at my place because he didn’t think I could take care of myself. He tried bringing me food, but I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t thirsty either. I wanted nothing. I felt nothing. It was like all my will to live had been drained out of my body by the accident.

After a few days, I think Gabe was getting real sick of my attitude. I told him he didn’t have to stick around, but he still insisted I needed him. Once upon a time, he was right. We had met when I had to hire him as my personal bodyguard. I never thought I would see the day I even needed one. Two months after my book came out, one of my ex-boyfriend’s published an interesting story about our relationship. He didn’t give me the privilege of being anonymous. He used my real name. My real first name, at least. I’d like to say he painted a totally inaccurate portrait of me, but it was pretty accurate. He really emphasized how often I made decisions based on my emotions and basically said he felt sorry for me. It was eye-opening. It also brought a lot of light to my book because people were trying to figure out if that was the person I had been writing about. The people who knew who the characters were the only people who could have known who the story was about.

When I started getting death threats from the fans of that ex, Drew hired Gabe as a live-in bodyguard. We lived together for about 8 months while I wrote “Gone”. It was the last book I would ever publish. It was my apology to anyone who had the misfortune of knowing me. It was an allegory of all of my mistakes. It was my retirement speech, in a book. After I handed it over to Drew, I quit. I took Gabe with me, kinda. He was the only person who knew where I was going. He’s the only person I felt I could trust. The few friends I had were gone when the book came out. I figured it was for the best. I already knew before I finished writing the second book that there would need to be a third and final one. I felt like I owed everyone an apology before doing the decent thing.

Originally, I think I planned to go out on my own terms. I bought a quiet beach front property in the middle of no civilization. I figured I’d write another book or two and they’d be found later on, when my body was finally discovered. It didn’t end up going that way. Instead, Gabe ended up buying a house in the area shortly after I did. Basically, he ran away with me. I mean, he wasn’t leaving much behind. He worked as a bodyguard and had severe PTSD. He was prone to extreme delusions. He always told me that other people weren’t on “his level” so they just didn’t understand him. I never had a problem with him. He was one of the easiest people to live with. He didn’t take anything seriously that wasn’t important. He had all his priorities in a row, even though he was delusional as Hell. He also made his flaws everyone else’s problem. His methods were a little unconventional, but it worked for him. People always responded to him in a positive way. I admired that about Gabe. Ever since I was young, I left a terrible taste in people’s mouth. Like cough medicine. So I stopped being around people. Aside from the monthly trip to pick up groceries in the nearest town, I never left the property. I didn’t know any of my neighbors. I wasn’t friendly with the mail carrier. I lived like a ghost, alone in my house.

When I first when into isolation, I promised myself it would be temporary, but the more time went on, the more I couldn’t imagine leaving the little paradise I had created for myself. The beach house was a place completely unaffected by the outside world. It existed outside of time, as far as I was concerned. It was a safe space, where nothing and no one could get to me.

I would have been happy to stay that way forever, living in blissful ignorance. But the accident was a reminder that I haven’t been happy in a long time. Now, it was hard to see anything other than my misery. I had been through bouts of depression in the past. I figured it would go away after a few days, that I was just struggling because of the accident. I think I knew deep down that this was something different, I just couldn’t face it. But if Gabe is good at anything it’s forcing people to face uncomfortable truths about themselves. I was sitting outside, watching the waves sweep the shore. Gabe came out and sat down beside me. I knew something was wrong by the look on his face.

“We have to talk, and you’re not going to like it.” He announced. I nodded as I looked over.

“What else is new?” I groaned. He leaned forward in the chair.

“Who’s James?” He asked softly, like he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was going to get.

“Where did you hear that name?” My stomach twisted. Gabe let out a deep breath.

“You’ve started talking in your sleep.” He answered. I shook my head.

“I’ve known a few people named James.” I tried to dismiss. Gabe shook his head.

“This isn’t just another guy, Charlie.” He tried reasoning. My eyes shot over at him.

“That’s not my name anymore.” I barked. Gabe raised his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry?” He wasn’t really apologizing. He never did. He just knew he was supposed to.

“It’s not really my fault you picked such a stupid name.” He complained. I rolled my eyes.

“What’s wrong with Morgan?” I asked, crossing my arms. He laughed.

“It sounds like the name of a funeral home.” He joked. I shrugged.

“Then it suits me.” I smirked. Gabe shook his head. We were both quiet for a few minutes.

“So, would I be correct to assume He Who Shall Not Be Named is this James guy?” He asked. I didn’t answer him. I knew I didn’t need to. My reaction gave it away already.

“The thing is, you’re apologizing.” He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring out at the water still.

“What?” I leaned forward. Gabe looked back over at me.

“You keep saying ‘I’m so sorry James’. What are you sorry for?” He pried. I just stared at him. A million responses ran through my head, but I couldn’t settle on a single thing. I owed him an apology for ever saying hello. I brought him nothing but pain and misery and he did nothing but love me unconditionally. I started violently shaking my head. Gabe moved to the ground beside me.

“It’s dropped.” He assured, wrapping his arms around me. I nodded.

“Please don’t mention him again.”