Right Where You Left Me

epilogue

five years later

Fog has settled like smoke over the city.

I take a drag off of my cigarette and continue to ignore my apparent smoking problem.

"Hi," Nate murmurs behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and turning me around. "No work today?" He peppers kisses along my neck.

"Nope," I say, watching as he steals my cigarette. "Took the day off." I manage one of the chain bookstores in the city, and my job pays well enough. Combined with Nate's salary, we have enough to pay rent for a decent one bedroom apartment. We've been doing so for the last three years.

Nate and I eventually went to university after our "gap year" turned into three. I got a degree in Philosophy, and Nate got one in Computer Engineering.

"Nancy was asking if we can visit her this weekend," he says as he crosses the room into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

"Fine with me," I say. She's got a big farmhouse up in the country, and she's happier than ever.

"I'm going to check the mail," I say, and grab from keys and my sandals and head downstairs.

As I head back upstairs, flipping through the envelopes, one catches my eye. A blue envelope with little daisy flower drawings on it. Addressed to Nate Miller and Adya Ahmed, It reads. From Linda Meyer of Woodvale. It's mailed to our address.

When I get back inside the apartment, we sit together and open the blue daisy envelope. Two things fall out; a letter and a card. My eyes pour over the letter first.

Dear Nate and Adya,

I am writing to you on behalf of Linda Meyer. As her legal lawyer, it is my duty to inform you that Ms. Meyer has recently passed away due to pneumonia. Before her passing she had requested you be invited to her funeral and will reading. The funeral will be held in the Church of Woodvale and the burial will take place in Woodvale Cemetery. I apologize to be the bearer of sorrowful news and hope you consider our humble invitation.

Wishing the best,
Edward B. Harold

Tears pool in my eyes as my gaze turns to the card in the envelope. All it reads is:

Adya Ahmed and Nate Miller:
Funeral and Burial of Linda Meyer
Church of Woodvale and Woodvale Cemetery

"Nate," I whisper. He pulls me into his arms and holds me as I sob into his shoulder.

Although my visits to Linda weren't often, I still remember them fondly. Going to her library and receiving books. Pouring my heart out to her after fucking up over and over again. She was a motherly figure I could turn to. And now she's gone. I hadn't even remembered to reach out after I left Woodvale. How shitty of me. When was the last time I ever even talked to her? Will this just be one more event I never get closure from?

"Well," I say, wiping my tears, "I guess we're going back to Woodvale."

***

Kit no longer works at Jagged Edge. I stare sorrowfully at the old diner as we drive past it in our car. The leather booth we sat and poured our hearts out at. The bar where Kit was always cooking something up. Last I heard is that his father passed away in the military, and that he was making funeral arrangements. It makes me sad to know we may be attending another funeral soon.

Nate and I pass the road where I sat, drunk on whiskey, and poured my heart out to a stranger. I still don't know who she is. I never will. That thought only makes me sadder.

Kate and Alex broke up in their freshman year of college. I only know this because we stay in touch, but not enough to be considered friends anymore. All I know is that they both went to community college, and after their breakup Alex started drinking heavily. She overdosed on May 23rd, 2024. She ended up in the hospital, and Nate and I went to visit her a couple of times. I don't know it yet, but Alex will overdose again in four years. This time the ambulance will not make it in time. Kate's CPR attempts will be futile. Not everyone can have happy endings; so it goes. Nate and I will attend another funeral.

Linda knew many people. Woodvale is a small town, and her funeral was full of people she probably barely knew. Families who she may have baked a casserole for once. A lot of old people showed up, which isn't surprising considering Woodvale is made up of many old people. It did make me sad, however, to know that many of these people would be dead in a matter of years. It seemed unfair that I'm barely 24 and their lives are almost over, and all their wisdom will die with them.

Linda didn't have many belongings. She had no family and few friends. But everything she did have, she left to us. Including her house.

And her library.