Right Where You Left Me | Reiner Braun

Chapter 10 - Despite the Circumstances

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For days since that night I did my best to stay low and go about my life as normally as I could, if it ever was normal. Mr. Pascal got more ill every day, and every day I had to grow my patience a bit longer. He had gone more short-fused, tending to drive off customers more, and he vomited and coughed blood so many times that I’d panic with just a little groan from him. I kept holding on to someday, someday, someday. But god, I wished my best friend was there with me.

Jerome was out of town again for another week, and I stayed out of the house that whole time. I looked for job openings from morning to night and stopped by every time I could at the bookstore. Sometimes, Brie or Sienna would check in on me and my old man. When their faces turned into looks of sympathy, it was the only time I could will myself into a smile. I’d hate to see another soul being sad about where I currently was in life, especially when they were dear to me.

Reiner respected the distance I asked from him. But strangely I felt his presence still, with the snowdrops and the cakes and the fruits that were being sent to the shop anonymously. There would be no note, not a word, but I accepted each one with a gratitude that was a little candlelight flicker. Knowing he still cared was both comfort and pain to me.

One time, after a courier brought in kiwis and tangerines, Mr. Pascal, without looking up from the papers he was working on, gave his first and only comment. “I don’t think your plan is working.”

My heart wilted at his words as I put the basket down on the table, where the vase of snowdrops bloomed, still white and fresh as they were when they arrived a day ago.

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to let go completely. So he’s doing it bit by bit.” I said.

Mr. Pascal only let out a sigh that told me nothing of how he felt- exhaustion with him, or exhaustion with me, I wasn’t certain.

I kept enduring the days of braving my challenges alone, taking care of Mr. Pascal on my own when I had gone so used to having assistance at my every beck and call. I was reminded then why I severed ties. The comfort of having someone to lean on to was dangerous. There were especially hard days when Wiseguy got very down with his illness and the telephone just seemed so tempting. All I had to do was make a call and I knew he’d answer.

Knowing he’d answer always gave me the shivers. I’d melt away instantly. The more I look at my lone bicycle outside that used to be accompanied by his, and with every time I receive more of his gifts, the more I know how much I should reinforce my resolve.

Until one day, a letter came. It had been such a testing era with Mr. Pascal’s threatening sickness and my job hanging by a thread over my head, rejections piling one on top of the other; but the sight of the mailman on the door with a letter that had the army seal sent me to a moment of relief that gave me an ounce of strength.

I sat there behind the counter. Mr. Pascal was asleep in his room. I opened it eagerly but paused at my own detriment, knowing well that reading right away could shatter my heart. It could be Reiner agreeing never to make another connection with me again. It could be Reiner begging for me to let him come again. It could be somebody else from the army. Hell, it could be the authorities informing me about my brother’s death in action. Every one of these possibilities churned my gut and made me want to retch in sheer anxiety.

But I opened it despite my better judgement.

And the writing was so familiar that it struck me at the chest.