Walking Disaster

together, or somehow show Abby that I could be who
she needed.
    I put on the charm; pulled out all the stops; spared no expense. We went bowling, on dinner dates, lunch dates, and to the movies. We also spent as much time at the apartment as possible:
renting movies, ordering in, anything to be alone with her. We didn’t have a single fight.
    Adam called a couple of times. Even though I made a good show, he was unhappy with how short the fights lasted. Money was money, but I didn’t want to waste any time away from Pidge.
    She was happier than I’d ever seen her, and for the first time, I felt like a normal, whole human being instead of some broken, angry man.
    At night we would lie down and snuggle like an old married couple. The closer it came to her last night, the more of a struggle it was to stay upbeat and pretend I wasn’t desperate to keep
our lives the way they were.
    The night before her last night, Abby opted for dinner at the Pizza Shack. Crumbs on the red floor, the smell of grease and spices in the air, minus the obnoxious soccer team, it was
perfect.
    Perfect, but sad. It was the first place we’d had dinner together. Abby laughed a lot, but she never opened up. Never mentioned our time together. Still in that bubble. Still oblivious.
That my efforts were being ignored was at times infuriating, but being patient and keeping her happy were the only ways I had any chance of succeeding.
    She fell asleep fairly quickly that night. As she slept just a few inches away, I watched her, trying to burn her image into my memory. The way her lashes fell against her skin; the way her wet
hair felt against my arm; the fruity, clean smell that wafted from her lotioned body; the barely audible noise her nose made when she exhaled. She was so peaceful, and had become so comfortable
sleeping in my bed.
    The walls surrounding us were covered with pictures of Abby’s time in the apartment. It was dark, but each one was committed to my memory. Now that it finally felt like home, she was
leaving.
    The morning of Abby’s last day, I felt like I would be swallowed whole by grief, knowing we would pack her up the next morning for Morgan Hall. Pidge would be around, maybe visit
occasionally, probably with America, but she would be with Parker. I was on the brink of losing her.
    The recliner creaked a bit as I rocked back and forth, waiting for her to wake. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The silence weighed down on me.
    Shepley’s door whined as it open and closed, and my cousin’s bare feet slapped against the floor. His hair was sticking up in places, his eyes squinty. He made his way to the love
seat and watched me a while from under the hood of his sweatshirt.
    It might have been cold. I didn’t notice.
    “Trav? You’re going to see her again.”
    “I know.”
    “By the look on your face, I don’t think you do.”
    “It won’t be the same, Shep. We’re going to live different lives. Grow apart. She’ll be with Parker.”
    “You don’t know that. Parker will show his ass. She’ll wise up.”
    “Then someone else like Parker.”
    Shepley sighed and pulled one leg onto the couch, holding it up by the ankle. “What can I do?”
    “I haven’t felt like this since Mom died. I don’t know what to do,” I choked out. “I’m going to lose her.”
    Shepley’s brows pulled together. “So you’re done fighting, huh?”
    “I’ve tried everything. I can’t get through to her. Maybe she doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about her.”
    “Or maybe she’s just trying not to. Listen. America and I will make ourselves scarce. You still have tonight. Do something special. Buy a bottle of wine. Make her some pasta. You
make damn good pasta.”
    One side of my mouth turned up. “Pasta isn’t going to change her mind.”
    Shepley smiled. “You never know. Your cooking is why I decided to ignore the fact that you’re fucking nuts and move in with you.”
    I nodded. “I’ll give it a try. I’ll try anything.”
    “Just make it memorable, Trav,” Shepley said, shrugging. “She might come around.”
    Shepley and America volunteered to pick up a few things from the grocery store so I could cook dinner for Abby. Shepley even agreed to stop by a department store to pick up some new silverware
so we didn’t have to use the mix and match shit we had in our drawers.
    My last night with Abby was set.
    AS I SET OUT THE NAPKINS THAT NIGHT, ABBY CAME AROUND the corner in a pair of