The Day You Went Away

5. Choices

I knew Eli was right. I knew there was no other choice if I couldn't live with the risk of being a werewolf. I wasn't infected this time. Either none of Dan's blood had gotten on me or my vaccine had worked. Next time I might not be so lucky.

Still, it took me a week to do it. A week of sleepless nights and crying on Bug's shoulder. A week of not eating and of Bug trying to convince me that it didn't have to be this way. That I could make it work. That it would be okay.

She'd always been braver than me, stronger. I knew that. She was the one who'd put me back together once before when my family was taken from me. She'd put me back together this time too. But I was finding it hard to believe the pieces of my heart would ever fully mend.

My physical wounds were healing but I hurt. Hurt so much I sometimes just wanted to stop breathing. But I had to live. I'd promised my family I'd live for them, standing over their graves all those years ago. So I had to go on. Had to live my life. The life that Dan wouldn't be part of.

After a week I'd cried myself dry. So I went home and made the call. Asked them to bring Dan to see me.

He arrived with Eli and a smaller blond guy in tow. Eli nodded hello, told me they'd be just outside the door and then he and the blond left Dan and me alone in my living room. He sat in the armchair. I took the sofa. The three feet or so between us felt like three miles.

Dan looked as bad as I felt, stubble darkening his jaw, purple shadows under his eyes. But it was the expression in those eyes that killed me. The guilt. And, beneath the guilt, the hope. His hands were gripping the armrests, knuckles white. "Ash, I'm so sorry," he began.

"Don't," I said. There was no point dragging it out. That would just be cruel. I was going to break his heart. I could at least do it quickly. Try to do it cleanly. Give him a chance of healing some day. "I know it wasn't your fault, Dan. I know that. And I know you love me. I hope you know that I love you. But I can't do this. I don't want to be a werewolf. And that means I can't be with you. That's why I wanted to see you. Because you deserve to hear it face to face. I love you but this is over."

He'd gone white. "Ash, please. Give me a chance. I need to explain."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to explain. There's nothing we can change about this situation. We need to end it." My throat was hot and tight, my eyes stung. Apparently I'd been wrong about being all cried out. I stood, wanting him gone before I lost it completely. Every inch of me ached with the urge to go to him. I couldn't do that to him.

"You just need to give us a chance," he said.

"Dan, please." A sob rose in my throat. "Please, just go. I can't do this."

I heard a crack of wood, realized his strength of his hands, gripping the arms of the chair so hard in order to stay where he was had broken the chair. He was losing control again. I stepped backward, bumped against the sofa. "Please, go."

He stood then, the motion too fast, and the chair fell backward. I flinched and suddenly Eli and the blond guy were there, standing between us.

"Dan," Eli said softly. "You've heard what she has to say. We need to go now."

Dan shook his head, anger twisting his face. "No. No, I just need to—" The words were underscored with growls again.

The blond guy grabbed his arm. I saw his bicep flex hard as he exerted pressure. For a small guy, he was pretty strong. But that was werewolves for you. "We need to go. C'mon, man, if you love her, don't do this. You're scaring her."

That seemed to get through to Dan. He slumped then and the grief on his face almost broke me. "I'm sorry. I love you," he said and then he walked out of my house.

Eli waited with me until the front door closed. "I love you too," I whispered when I was sure Dan wouldn't hear me, even with werewolf ears.

"You did the right thing," Eli said. "Even if it sucks right now, it was the right thing. For both of you."

I nodded.

"You got a friend to stay with you awhile?" he asked.

"I already did that part," I said. "The crying and eating ice-cream part."

He smiled. "You're going to be okay, Ashley Keenan. And we'll take care of him. He'll be okay too."

I didn't see how that could possibly be true but I knew I had to act like I did. If I acted like it was true, maybe one day it would be. Fake it 'til you make it. Or something.

Eli said goodbye then and took the bag I handed him with Dan's clothes and stuff that had been at my house. Then he left.

And I was alone.

I'd told Eli I'd done the crying and eating ice-cream part. But it seemed the tears were going to keep coming for a while yet. I looked around the room and felt my heart catch when I saw the Mariners cap Dan had bought me at the first baseball game he’d taken me to perched on the middle shelf of one of my bookcases. I'd missed a step, I realized. I’d done tears and ice-cream and I’d given Eli Dan's things, but I hadn't gotten rid of all the things that reminded me of Dan. Of us. All the things that would just prolong the pain.

After my family had been killed, it had been months before I'd even gone back to our house. Bug and I had cleaned it out slowly, neither of us wanting to let go, and each day had been excruciating.

I'd vowed then that the next time I had to do anything like that, I'd make a clean break. Get it over and done with. Try to give myself a chance to heal without things that triggered the pain surrounding me. It seemed that I'd reached the day to put that theory to the test.

Do it now. There was no way to go back. No way to change my mind. I didn't want to be a werewolf. So I had to let Dan go.

Eyes burning, I found a box and went through the house. Packed away the tchotchkes and the silly mementoes. Took the pictures off my night stand. Pulled fridge magnets and more pictures and ticket stubs off my fridge. Scoured my house of Dan and packed it all into a box that I could shove somewhere in the darkest depths of my basement and try to forget.

The box was pretty full by the time I got back to the living room. The final room. My steps were slow as I circled the room, adding more things to the box. The Mariners cap. A postcard of the Brooklyn Bridge from our trip to New York. A silly robot figurine Dan had bought for me at a flea market.

I left the mantelpiece above my fireplace until last. Then took down the framed photos one by one. The last one was a group shot. The very first picture of us, taken a few days after we'd met. Before we'd gone on that disastrous first date but after both of us had realized that there would be a first date.

The picture showed the group of us, college friends, crowded into the booth of some dive bar downtown. Dan next to me, his head turned slightly toward me, the grin on his face nearly incandescent. The grin on mine was just as huge. Looking at it now, it was damned obvious we were falling in love.

I picked up the picture. Ran my fingers over the frame, feeling the chip in the wood where I'd knocked it off the mantel not long after I'd moved here. Miraculously the glass hadn't broken. I'd laughed at the time and put it back in its place.

I wasn't laughing now. Still, as my hand held it over the box, I somehow couldn't make myself let go. I put it back on the mantel. "Group shots don't count," I whispered and then bent to pick up the box so I could take it downstairs and hide it and my broken heart somewhere I wouldn't find them again.

                                                  THE END...FOR NOW