Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Charlotte Mitchell

‘ N athan’. That’s what’s scribbled on the side of the cardboard box squatting on my tiled, dark green kitchen counter. I wrote that; it’s in my handwriting, and even though I wrote it yesterday, it feels like a lifetime ago. Another hand that wrote that. A lifetime ago, another me, who was still living in the apartment we had once shared.

And now he’s gone.

Dead, I mouth because Miles says I need to keep reminding myself of that.

Before I walked out of Nathan and my apartment and to the moving truck, I stuffed what remained of his things in there without a thought. I sold or threw the rest with a numb brain, a shocked system. There’s something to be said when a spouse dies, but for the life of me, I can’t recall it. Nathan’s aunt even told it to me at his celebration of life. She shed no tears, and neither did I if I’m being honest. There were no tears to shed, no body to cry over.

Dead.

When there is no body to bury, it’s hard to come to grips with the reality that they’re actually gone. Eight days since that fateful day isn’t many days for reality to take hold either.

I force my gaze away from the box and look at the inside of the apartment I’m in the process of moving my things into. It’s a far cry from the one I shared with Nathan in downtown Manhattan. Here, in East Harlem, you’re either rich with a richie-rich home, or you’re like me and barely have two pennies to rub together. Nathan left me with nothing but my own salary, having drained our accounts to go on his big boat trip in the Caribbean because he thought he could sail the waves alone. Without any training. Without any wisdom.

He took it all. It’s gone – he’s gone, and here I am – surrounded by floorboards that creak and smoke-stained, yellow walls with holes in them. They don’t really stand out from my second-hand furniture, a couch, and a chair I bought after I bargained away our expensive pieces for the down payment on this piece of shit, one-bedroom hellhole.

My eyes catch the cracked mirror the previous tenant left behind. It’s directly across from me, and I get a full view of myself. Long brown hair with golden tones that Nathan paid a fortune for. Clean, olive skin that used to receive a facial once a month. That definitely won’t be happening anymore. I wonder if the ladies will remember me if I stop showing up to my regular appointments. Will they miss me? Will they talk about me?

I meet my own gaze, my baby blue eyes. Everyone says they’re like the clearest ocean, but today . . . today they look hollow. With as little sleep as I’ve been getting, I expect to see dark circles above my high cheekbones, but they’re still normal. For now.

My gaze wanders lower to my figure. I have a thick hourglass figure. It’s hidden by baggy clothes that I normally sleep in, but instead of being skinny, I have quite a bit of weight in my breasts, hips, and thighs. My arms could be a little thinner too. It’s in my genes to be thicker. My father was, and he passed that on to me. I’ve tried to lose it, especially in the police academy, but my fat was stubborn and refused to move off my bones. I should consider myself blessed that my captain doesn’t care about my weight. As long as I can chase someone down – and trust me, I can – he doesn’t mind.

I hear an ‘oof’ from behind me. The sound of distress pulls me away from the mirror, and I turn around. Miles is trying to fit himself and the box he’s carrying through the door frame without bruising his knuckles.

Miles Anderson, one of the finest policemen in the city, was my father’s partner and best friend when my father was alive. He helped me through the academy, saw that I was taken care of, and then he became my partner when I joined the ranks as a Manhattan cop.

He’s a handsome man, if I were into older men. With grays at the temples of his dark head of hair and a matching goatee, any woman would consider themselves lucky. I suppose his wife Rochelle does.

Aside from his rugged, aging appearance, Miles is a thin man, but I know, from being around him my whole life, that he spends time in the gym at the station.

Even though he’s mindful of his physical appearance, he isn’t about his organs, so when his deep voice comes out raspy, I’m aware that it’s from his nightly cigars. “This won’t be so bad, Charlie. ”

I must be wearing a defeated expression. Even if I wasn’t, he can read me like a book. “Yes, it will.”

He sets the box next to Nathan’s and comes to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “This is only temporary. You’ll move up in the ranks and with it, earn a bigger salary.”

I breathe a sigh through my nose. “I don’t give a rat's ass where I live.” And it’s the truth. Nathan’s income from being a high-end accountant may have paid for everything I am, but I truly never needed all that. Thanks to my mother, we grew up broke. I’ve known from a young age what poverty feels like.

He sighs with me as Rochelle walks through the door, carrying a smaller box. She sets it on the floor with a look of sympathy.

Rochelle is as beautiful as her husband, and she’s thicker like me, too. With black hair that I suspect she dyes and dark chocolate eyes, she’s striking. She pins me with those eyes, reads our body language, and crosses the short distance to nudge her husband off my shoulders and fold me into a hug.

“Maybe moving was too soon,” she whispers in my ear.

Careful not to dig my chin into her shoulder, I give a little shake of my head. “There are many reasons I had to get out of there. It was too expensive for me to stay, and the end of the month was nearing, but I also couldn’t be in our shared space anymore. Staying wasn’t an option.”

“Oh honey,” she says, pulling away from him and fixing my hair in a comforting, motherly way. “He was declared dead last week. You’re moving things too fast.”

A week and a day, but who’s counting? “Maybe,” I murmur.

“For Christ's sake,” Miles mutters softly. “You guys were separated for months. ”

She slaps his shoulder with the back of her hand. “But they still lived together.”

I scrape my palm down my face. We’ve had this discussion before, just yesterday in fact. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t have feelings left for him.”

Nathan and I had started out strong. We were high school sweethearts, and I saw him through college, working my ass off at a diner to support us, and he did the same for us once he got his degree and built a name for himself. He gave me everything I needed while I went through the academy to follow in my father’s footsteps. But somewhere along the way, we became two different people. We stopped loving each other, both wanting different things. Do I regret separating? No. Do I regret letting him walk out the door with his suitcase and a sailor’s hat? Yes. Yes, I do. I didn’t even say goodbye. I just glanced at him wheeling his suitcase to the door. Meanwhile, I sat on the couch, watching my favorite show with a bowl of fruit in my lap. I regret that the most.

And then they found his rented boat in pieces, and his body was nowhere to be found. It took them another week to declare him dead and another day for them to find me and give me the horrible news.

Miles nods a little and puts his hands on his hips. “Maybe starting over will be good for you.”

“We’ll see to it,” Rochelle says with a watery smile.

I give her a little hug of thanks because, right now, I feel like I owe them everything. As I pull away, I peck her cheek. “Thanks for helping me move, guys.”

Rochelle’s smile brightens a little. “Of course. We’re all you have left; we wouldn’t let you do this alone.”

I don’t think she meant to, but her words thicken the air. I have no siblings, no parents, no name for myself. No husband, no kids, and no pets. I have nothing to lean on and no one in my corner, except them.

Miles tries to break it by asking, “Are you ready for Monday?”

“Back to work, you mean?” I question. He nods, and I twist my long hair over to one shoulder. “It’ll be nice to get back to the field.”

He cringes as he looks away.

My eyebrows raise. “Miles?”

Scratching his goatee, he admits, “I think the captain is going to bench you until he’s sure you’re okay.”

“The fuck he is,” I hiss. “This is horrible – of course it is – but the best thing for me is to get back to work.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

“Nope, I’ll just kill him.”

Rochelle pats my cheek. “I’ll help you hide the body.”

For the first time this week, a grin plays on my lips, and then it fades all too quickly as my stomach rumbles and I’m faced with reality. “You guys should head out. I’ve taken up way too much of your time as it is.”

Miles rocks back on the heel of his sneakers. “Oh, we don’t mind, Charlie. You’re family.”

“I know,” I say with as much firmness as I can. “But I need to unpack and settle in before tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Rochelle lovingly whispers. More loudly, she adds, “Do you want food before we leave you?”

I shake my head. “I’m going to head to the grocery store before I get started.”

Rochelle nods and then reaches over to tug on the elbow of Mile’s sweatshirt. “Let’s leave her to it.” To me, she says, “Call if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Miles punctuates.

“I will,” I promise. And then they grab each other’s hand and head toward the door. With one last glance, Miles closes it behind them.

Once I hear their footfalls on the stairs, I flick my gaze to Nathan’s box again. I immediately head to it, kicking off my shoes as I do. My eyes water a little as I trace my fingers across my scrawled script and release a shaky breath.

I became a cop to save people, but I couldn’t save my marriage. If I had, he wouldn’t have gone, and he would still be alive. I may not have loved him in the way married people do, but I still loved him as a person.

I will heal from this; I will move on, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for letting him walk out that door without a single word.