And just like that, Caroline was forgiven. Because if she had never left me, I never would have found Finley. Finley’s friendship meant more to me than the relationship I had with Caroline. My hatred dissipated into a pool of nothing at my feet.
“Pass me that bag, will ya?” Finley asked, hooking her phone to the small speaker she carried with her at all times, and she started a playlist. I reached down and picked up one of the myriad bags on her plastic-covered mattress and held it out for her as the heavy bass of the first song swam through my skin. “No, not that one,” she said, pointing at another.
I reached for the one I thought she wanted and she shook her head then tried another without success. “Jeez, Fin, there’s a hundred on here. Describe it to me,” I demanded as she rummaged through a random drawer.
“The greenish one with the mustard-colored stripes.” I grabbed the one she wanted and set it on top of her dresser.
We’d moved all of her stuff into a storage unit the day before and had returned to grab a few things before her flight the next day.
She was packing for Vietnam.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving for a year,” I told her.
She glanced at me and smiled. “It’ll pass by like that,” she said, snapping her slender fingers.
I smiled in return but I wasn’t so sure. Admittedly, I leaned on Finley a little too heavily but it was a coping mechanism. She was a lifeline, more a life jacket than a preserver. Our friendship tugged that closely. She was so pleasant to be around as well. Funny and silly and full of life.
She was leaving for Vietnam in the morning and I was driving her to the airport. I was dreading her absence. Selfish, I know, but I didn’t want her to go. If I’d known the kind of charity she was doing, I thought I might have been able to come to terms with it a little better.
“You know, if you just told me what you were doing over there, I might not feel so crappy about dropping you off tomorrow,” I said with a bite I hadn’t intended.
Her hands stilled as she stared at the top of her dresser and sighed. “Ethan, let it go, will you? If I told you, you’d just force me to stay.”
I stood from sitting on her mattress. “That’s it. That’s enough for me to force you right there.”
She shook her head. “You can’t stop me,” she said, avoiding eye contact, rummaging through a deep bag.
“What if I refused to take you?” I threatened uselessly, inching near her.
“I’d just take a cab, dude.”
I stopped a mere few inches from her and sighed, resting the palm of my hand on the surface of the dresser, inches from her fingers. “Fine, but will you at least call me when you get there? Give me the number to check in on you periodically.”
Her eyes met mine briefly and something passed between us. Something I couldn’t define. My stomach dropped so I backed up a step.
“Fine,” she told the inside of the giant bag. “I’ll call you and give you the details of where I’ll be. Will that make you feel better?”
“Not really, but if it’s all you’ll give me, then fine.”
Finley zipped the top of her bag, resting an arm on top of it. She turned toward me, using her other hand to hold back wisps of hair tumbling about her face from the wind tunneling into the unit from outside.
“I’m ready,” she said with a sad smile.
“Are you nervous?” I asked her.
There was limited space to move around or even stand so I threw a knee over the mattress to give myself the illusion of room. I was feeling stifled for some reason, overcome by the crowded boxes and disheveled furniture. My chest felt constricted because of it, I thought.
She sat on the plastic-covered mattress then laid back, her feet planted on the floor.
“A little,” she said, meeting my eyes and smiling. “A lot, actually.” Her eyes glassed over, so I joined her side and laid beside her.
“You don’t have to go,” I said.
She turned to me and I looked at her. “Yes, I do. I really, really do,” she answered.
I nodded, accepting her answer. “You’re courageous, Fin.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, voice low, “but I’m trying.”
I realized then I’d selfishly made it harder on her by encouraging her to stay, by giving her a hard time. “I’m sorry I gave you shit. You should go. Go but know that anytime you need me, you just call me and I’ll be there for you.”
Finley wrapped her hand around mine and we stared at the top of the storage unit in silence.
***
At two in the morning we left for Glacier Park International so she could make her six a.m. flight. It felt surreal that she’d be flying halfway across the world. I almost couldn’t believe the day had come. For some inexplicable reason I thought I had all the time in the world to spend with her before she had to go, but like so many things, I was mistaken.
She was quiet most of the ride. Nerves, I thought, keeping her silent. When we arrived at the airport, I pulled into a garage and grabbed a time ticket. We parked and I got her door for her, followed by her bags, except her ridiculous carry-on which she insisted she could shoulder.
I stacked a bag on top of her rolling luggage and we headed for her gate but she stopped in the middle of the pedestrian crosswalk, her hand gripping my forearm. Relief from the harsh anxiety I’d been feeling subsided with one breath. I slowly stared down at those soothing fingers, wishing I could glue them there.