To Say Goodbye Read online

  To Say Goodbye © 2016 by Lindsay Detwiler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  To Say Goodbye is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: Claire Smith

  ISBN-10: 1-925448-42-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-925448-42-9

  TO MY HUSBAND, CHAD

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  PROLOGUE

  SOPHIA

  The rain pelted against the umbrella above her head, but a few rogue drops managed to slap against her chilled cheek. They intermixed with the tears streaming down her face, creating a sympathetic harmony of her sadness and of nature’s seemingly melancholy mood. The weather befit the occasion, a punctuation to the sea of black circling the soggy earth around the casket.

  She could feel her pointy-toed stilettos sinking into the mud. She knew by this point splotches of the sickly, sticky earth were probably all over her shoes, but she didn’t dare look down. This was not the time to worry about her shoes, the weather, or anything else. It struck her as ridiculous that these thoughts were even swirling in her mind.

  The rain continued to pound as the pastor droned on about salvation, faith, and heavenly things, but Sophia only heard a string of pointless words. She felt nauseous, felt hungover from grief. Faith did not exist anymore for her. Faith could not exist in a world without him.

  She didn’t know if she would be able to cry today. She’d cried so many tears over the past few nights, she thought she might be empty. Then again, she also didn’t know if she’d make it through today standing. She wondered if—in fact, she hoped—she would fall to the ground, a heart attack panging in her chest from her grief. She wanted to lie in the gaping hole in the ground and bury herself beneath him.

  She, quite simply, wanted to be dead too.

  She could feel the gazes penetrating her, pitying her, gauging her reaction. She tried to look the prim and proper part of the solemn wife, flanked by her parents and in-laws, standing close to the casket. Inside though, something else was creeping in, something besides the skulking, downtrodden feelings.

  Moments of rage began to infiltrate her, a silent warfare bubbling within.

  How could this have happened to her? These sort of things didn’t happen to women like her. Sure, like everyone, she’d experienced tragedy before. Grief had grasped her with its suffocating grip several times in her adult life, but this was a completely new level. He wasn’t here this time. She couldn’t lean on his shoulder, feel him wrap his arms around her, have him drag her out of the pit of sadness. She’d never been through something like this without him. She’d never endured a shredded heart without him there to help piece it back together. She wasn’t equipped for an ordeal like this, wasn’t strong enough.

  Tim had been the pillar in her life for the past ten years. He’d been her best friend, her laughter, her teammate. He’d been the man to help her recover from disappointments and failures. He’d been the one who remembered her favorite drink at their favorite restaurants and who could order for her if she was running late. He’d been the one to embrace her on a bad day, to kiss her goodnight, to wrap her in his warmth as they fell asleep. He’d been her everything.

  Now her everything was gone. How would she do this?

  She wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t.

  She would carry on through today for him, to honor his memory. She would say goodbye to the man who had been her foundation. She would honor his life. Then she would succumb to nothingness. She would sit and slowly watch her life fade away around her, watch everything blur by as she sat still. She would wait for death to come, for the end of her pain. Until then, she would just tick away the time.

  She perused the crowd of mourners as another prayer started. Across the huddle, a man stood in a black suit. He wore sunglasses, probably to hide his grief-stricken expression. There was no umbrella to shield him from the weather. He stood unmoving, stoic, and rigid. He did not chant along to the prayer, did not wipe at his eyes like the other mourners. He stood, stubble marking his jaw, stone-faced, one hand clasping the other wrist. He did not move a muscle, his military training probably preparing him for a moment like this.

  She hadn’t seen him since an encounter they’d had months earlier, hadn’t even thought about him. Of course he was here, though. He’d been Tim’s best friend for years. Just because they’d grown apart didn’t mean this loss wasn’t impacting him. Fading friendships didn’t make a loss any easier.

  Before today, he’d been just a passing thought, a mere coincidence. Now, Sophia looked at him in a different light. Now, he was a relic of a life gone by, a memory of a man who was no longer here.

  She stepped forward at her mother’s prompting to say her final farewell. She felt herself breaking down, melting, falling apart. People crowded around her to help her through, to tell her it would be okay. She was tired of hearing it, even if they meant well. Things were not okay. The grief struck in waves, threatening to physically overpower her. The rain intensified. Her sadness and the cold, pelting rain were unbearable.

  With her peripheral vision, she saw him approach. He shoved his sunglasses back out of respect to approach the grave. He gently tossed his white rose onto the coffin, and Sophia looked up at him. His face was still stone cold, stiff, but she detected something familiar—a tear streaming down his face. It was almost undetectable, mingling with the rainwater also running down his cheek.

  He stood by her, not touching her, just staring into the grave.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “What a shitty day.”

  Sophia’s heart ached and her tears streamed. Her nose was so stuffy she felt like she was suffocating. She felt like it was a physical chore to breathe, as though she had to remind her lungs how to work. Somehow, though, his words comforted her. It was hard to hear someone else say the words plastered on
her heart, but in a strange way, it was a relief too. Finally, someone else was saying what she was thinking.

  It wasn’t going to be okay. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t going to find her way without him.

  A world without Tim was just a shitty excuse for a world.

  It was over. Tim was gone. Now they were all left to pick up the pieces of a world forever changed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SOPHIA

  Three months later

  The alarm’s ringing was an unfamiliar anthem to Sophia, and it startled her. She wasn’t used to having to pay attention to time, to get up and be somewhere. She groggily rolled over to hit snooze, her head pounding from the incessant sound.

  This had been a terrible idea. As she tried to fall back asleep, she thought maybe she could put it off for another day or two. Stella wouldn’t begrudge her one more day at home.

  Rolling onto her back and rubbing her eyes, though, she knew she had to get up. She’d given herself the much-needed time away. She had promised herself, had promised Stella, she would get back into the swing of things. Life was going on with or without her. She had to rejoin the land of the living. She swung her legs out of bed, her heart heavy as it always was in the mornings. She tried not to take note of Tim’s side of the bed.

  Tim’s empty side of the bed.

  She strolled to her closet, toward the back to get real clothes. She didn’t even know if they fit anymore. Yoga pants and sweatshirts had been her uniform for the past twelve weeks.

  Pulling on some jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, the color of her life now, she headed to the bathroom to examine her hair. Her blonde locks were a frizzy disaster. Her own hairstyle was probably not going to instill much confidence in her clientele today. She couldn’t bring herself to care, though.

  These days, she didn’t care about much.

  She rustled her hand through her waves, deciding the messy look would have to do. Her alarm rang from the bedroom again, and she headed to shut it off. After fiddling with the buttons to stop the annoying sound, she saw a text from Stella.

  Stella: I’m so glad you’re coming in today. I’ve missed you so much! I only booked you for three appointments. We’ll ease into it. Xoxo

  Despite her apprehension, Sophia smiled. She’d missed her best friend. She was lucky to have such an amazing friend and business partner. Because of Stella, she’d been able to have the past few months to heal, or at least to wade through her grief.

  Sophia headed downstairs to make her coffee. She would eat a muffin at the shop for breakfast. As she sat at the kitchen table alone, heaviness rose in her chest. Today was the day. She would take a step away from Tim, away from the life they had. She had to start piecing together an existence by herself, a life without him.

  These past three months had been excruciating. Despite her parents, in-laws, and friends, she’d sunken into a deep depression, a hermit-like state of existence. She wanted nothing to do with the outside world, believing if she could stay in the cocoon of their home, maybe she could stay a part of Tim’s life. Maybe she wouldn’t have to acknowledge he was gone. Most days were the same. She wrapped herself in the veil of silence in her house, her thoughts and memories ricocheting off the walls around her. It was maddening, but it was still easier than facing the world, facing the questions, facing the stares. She didn’t want to pretend she was okay. She didn’t want to hear fake words of encouragement. She wanted to melt into herself, to feel like crap, to mourn alone. She wanted to pretend she didn’t live in a world without him. She wanted to lock herself away in their memories, surround herself with the familiar walls she had called home with him. She wanted to pretend he was just away temporarily and would be back any moment.

  In short, she wanted to forget Tim had died, had gone, had left her.

  This was silly, though, because everywhere she looked in their home, she saw him and, thus, felt his absence. She saw the archway where he’d playfully flung paint in her hair as they touched up their new home when they first moved in. She saw his chair at the dinner table, saw the shelf in the fridge where five cans of his favorite beer still sat. There were places of slow dances, places of passionate kisses, and photographs all around. The house was starting to feel more like a mausoleum of memories than a sanctuary.

  Her loved ones had tried to perk her up, tried to help her move on. There’d been dozens of casseroles and dinner offers, and many movie nights with Stella. Even though her in-laws were living in Florida now, they constantly sent her care packages. Tim’s mom sent her favorite no-bake cookies and notes that said she hoped Sophia was doing okay. They’d even offered her a place to stay if she wanted to get away and soak up some sun.

  Her parents and Stella had taken turns entertaining her, trying to make her smile. She loved them for it. But they weren’t what she needed. They weren’t Tim.

  Sophia sighed, knowing this wasn’t helping anything. She didn’t think going back to work today was going to help either. But she had no choice. She needed to rejoin the world, practice surviving. It wasn’t fair to make Stella keep shouldering the business. She needed to return.

  Sophia checked her bag to make sure she had her keys and wallet, then headed out the door. The sun was shining, and neighbors were heading out to their cars as well. She gave a few brief hellos before jumping in her car.

  “Here goes nothing,” she said to herself as she started the car and headed down the road for the first time in a long time.

  _______________

  “Morning, sunshine,” Stella cheered as Sophia entered through the door of Pink Lemonade. She felt like an alien walking into the place that not long ago was her second home. The pink walls, the pink lemonade in the beverage dispenser, the magazines everywhere—it felt familiar. But being here for the first time since Tim’s death felt strange. She wasn’t the same woman who had walked out of here that fateful day. Everything had changed.

  She shrugged off the thoughts. I just have to survive today. I just have to focus on haircuts, perms, and nails.

  “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re back. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through,” Stella said, heading from behind the register to give her a hug. “Come on over. Everything’s exactly how you left it.”

  Sophia walked over to her station. A bouquet of flowers sat by her mirror. “Stell, what are these?” She touched the pink carnations and tried not to think about the funeral home, the bouquets there.

  “Honey, I just wanted you to know I love you, and I know this is hard. I’m here for you.”

  “I know. I can’t thank you enough for these past few months. I know it’s been rough on you, running everything alone. I feel awful about it.” She turned away from the flowers, closing her eyes and taking a breath.

  “That’s what friends are for. You needed some time. I think it’s good you’re back, though. You need to get into a routine again.”

  Sophia looked at her best friend with gratitude. Stella had been her best friend since right after high school when they met at the beauty academy. They’d been through bad dye jobs together, tears over failed tests, first jobs together at Opal’s Salon, and eventually the chaos of opening their own hair salon. She’d been her maid of honor, her go-to for advice about everything. Now, though, her friend had proven she was truly one-of-a-kind. She’d helped Sophia through the worst moments of her life, and now she was about to help her through her first day of rejoining the world.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sophia said as she ran her fingers over her combs and plugged in her hot iron.

  “Well, you’re not going to have to find out anytime soon.” Stella winked, tucking a piece of her hot-pink hair behind her ear.

  The phone rang, breaking up their moment. It was back to busy, and Sophia was glad. She headed to the desk to answer the phone.

  “Pink Lemonade, Sophia speaking, how can I help you?”

  It was good to be back.

  _______________
/>   Eight hours later, two perms, a highlight job, six haircuts, five refills on the lemonade, and Sophia and Stella sat in their own chairs. They passed back and forth the box of Swedish Fish—they’d clung to the addiction from beauty school.

  “Can you believe she actually thought gray looked good on her?” Stella squealed.

  “Oh my God, it looked awful! I thought she was going to cry when I did the reveal. I surely would’ve. But the poor thing thought it looked trendy!”

  “Wait until she’s thirty. Gray won’t be so trendy then, huh?”

  The two women laughed, recalling the craziness of the day. A seventeen-year-old decided she’d jump on the trend wagon, dying her gorgeous blonde locks solid silver. It looked disastrous.

  “How about Mrs. Joseph complaining about her cut?”

  “Oh man. I thought she’d never leave. ‘Just another one-sixteenth of an inch, dearie.’ Such a sweet lady, but I’m glad you got her this time, Soph.”

  Sophia smiled, taking back the Swedish Fish for a few more. “It feels good to be back. It was nice to not think about everything, to be so busy I couldn’t. I sort of wish I’d returned sooner.”

  “It was good to take some time. You needed to grieve.”

  “I think you were just worried my melancholy state would’ve transferred to my work.”

  “I was a bit concerned about you coloring everyone’s hair black to match your period of mourning.”

  Sophia laughed. “Could you imagine Mrs. Joseph if I dyed her hair black?”

  “We’d be mourning you when she killed you.” After the words were out, Stella stopped, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. “Oh my God, Soph. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” She reached over to pat Sophia’s leg.

  “It’s okay. Really. I know Tim’s dead. I haven’t forgotten. You don’t need to tiptoe.”

  “I know. I just... I... I don’t know. I don’t know how to do all of this. I’m terrible at this sort of thing.”

  Sophia smiled. “I don’t think anyone should be good at this sort of thing. Trust me.”

  Stella sobered, looking off into the distance. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I really can’t. I don’t know how you’re holding it together.”