Hell Bound

Thirty-Seven

I knew Bucky was planning on leaving. His wounds were healing too quickly. Though he still seemed to be in some pain, he was getting better at hiding it. He could get up and down the stairs without help. He could move without wincing. He was starting to act like the injuries weren't there at all. We never talked about what we'd do when he left, but I could see that he'd already made the decision as soon as I told him about my dream. All I managed to do was stall him.

We spent the day just like the ones the day before. The only difference is that he focused more on me than on his notebooks. He seemed more comfortable touching me whenever we were close. His arm wrapped around me on the couch, or he sent me half-smiles from across the room. Whenever our paths crossed in the halls, he'd find a reason to pull me in by my waist and plant kisses on my face. But I knew what he was up to. He wasn't more affectionate because he'd felt a sudden surge of emotion. He was trying to soften the blow.

Later that night, after we cleaned up, he took my hand and led me to my room even though it was too early to sleep. I thought he might want to talk about whatever he'd uncovered in the book. Maybe even his speculations or dreams. But he didn't even bring the book, and he said nothing. When we were alone in my room, he kissed me in the lingering light of the sunset, peeled off my clothes, and laid me down on my bed. He was no longer in too much pain to move, and he only spoke in whispers or the few times he asked if I wanted more. I reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, knowing he wouldn't be there in the morning.

I woke up alone. The backpack and notebooks were gone, and there was no evidence of his presence at all except for wrinkled sheets and the pillow he'd mangled out of shape. I lay in bed for a long time. I was hoping he'd just gone downstairs early. Maybe he'd just gone to the bathroom. But I knew it was useless to hope.

Eventually, I had to get out of bed. I heard Graham get up and go to the kitchen. I had a job and a life I had to get back to. Once again, Bucky hadn't stayed long. But he'd left a mark. It was invisible this time. But God, did it hurt.

I could hear Graham singing to himself when I headed downstairs. No one was in the living room, and he was dancing around the kitchen as he cooked breakfast. He'd been wearing the headphones almost nonstop since the day before. When we didn't warn him ahead of time and then shifted my bedframe at least a few inches. It took him a good hour to look us in the eye, and then he'd proceeded to avoid us for most of the day. Mostly because he later walked in on us kissing in the hallway.

"Jesus shit!" Graham said when I moved for the coffee maker. He yanked the headphones out. "You scared the bejesus out of me."

"Sorry. It was unavoidable. You were singing pretty loud."

"I was going to make oatmeal for breakfast. I hope you guys are hungry. I made way too much." I decided to forgo sugar and creamer altogether. I would need a kick in the teeth to get through the day. I filled my mug and turned back toward the hallway.

"Bucky's gone," I told him.

"Gone where?"

"Just gone."

We didn't have much else to say for the rest of the morning. At least not until we were on the road to the VA later.

"So," he started slowly. "I got an interview at Arbys."

"Did you? How did they call?" He pulled out Starks' MP3 player and waved it around in his hand.

"I downloaded a phone app and the email stuff."

"Oh—I didn't even know it could do that." He shrugged and moved his fingers across the screen. He seemed to have no trouble getting the hang of it.

"It's the most high-tech thing I've ever seen. Like man, you said it was an MP3. It's not. It's like a fully functional computer. Apple only wishes they were this good."