She lived in a house that she worshipped, pushed back from the roads and suburbs down little more than a dirt path.  One would never find it if one weren’t looking for it.  The man who owned the land and large homestead rented it out to her for an awfully reasonable price, made even more remarkable to her considering the trade-off of privacy, quiet, huge weeping willows and ducks and geese brambling about her yard.  She had nearly cried from happiness the day she moved in, he recalled.  

She wasn’t expecting his visit today.  He had talked to her on the phone every day as he always did, sometimes two or three times since the funeral, but hadn’t mentioned his plans to drop by.  He knew she would be home, and awake.  The early Saturday morning sun blinded him until he made his turn down the dirt road that led to her. Indeed, her car sat quietly, cold from days without being started, right next to the white picket fence around her neatly trimmed grass.  Every time he saw the fence, he still couldn’t believe it; it seemed like part of a surreal fantasy that had torn through his night’s dreams.

He nimbly avoided the water fowl making loud rounds across the gravel and parked his car next to hers.  The old gate griped awkwardly when he stepped through and closed it behind him, reveling in the smell of the fresh-cut lawn.  She had been up earlier than he even guessed.  

Up three steps and he was standing on her generous porch, pushing the doorbell with one finger.  He watched a rocking chair lean against the weak morning breeze until he heard the scraping of her small feet stop at the door; doorknob mechanisms clicked at him and from behind the screen she appeared.  When she saw him, her tired face lit up and a small but genuine smile materialized.

“Darren, what are you doing here?” she said quietly.

“What, I can’t just drop by my best friend’s house unannounced?” he quipped with his infamous half-smile.

She looked ready to pounce with a witty retort, but instead let it die in her throat as she pushed open the screen door to him and stepped back. He walked in and drew her into a warm hug, and without thinking said, “Jesus, Claudia, are you eating?”

She pushed back from him, insulted. “What?  Of course I’m eating…”

He regained control of his tongue. “I’m sorry, I just….you’re so much thinner in my arms.”

Claudia’s brows furrowed painfully and she moved her eyes to the hardwood floor.  She wrapped the gray house-sweater she wore tighter around her frame. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Darren.  I have lost a little…”

Darren replied with a smile, “You look beautiful.”

She looked to be fighting back tears, but forced a grin instead.  “C’mon in, I’ve got coffee ready.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but padded nervously down the hall towards the little kitchen in back.  Darren took the moment to gaze around at her comfortable home, one he loved being at almost as much as his own.  She had done an incredible job making her house a place of peace for herself and anyone who visited, and he never got tired of marveling at her décor.  He walked to her small bookshelf and curiously found several picture frames on a single shelf, all turned away, hiding the photographs they held.  He plucked one off; his heart sank as he overlooked a familiar photograph of Claudia and her late fiancée, taken at a park.  He took another off the shelf to confirm his suspicion; every picture of Karl that had decorated the living room, Claudia had placed on this shelf and turned to face the dark.  

Darren swallowed stiffly and replaced the frame, drawn back to the present by the sounds of clinking spoons against ceramic cups.  He moseyed down the hall and found her anxiously placing sugar and cream on her table, next to the cup of black coffee that was waiting for him.  She looked up when he walked in and smiled.  He returned it, but didn’t move.  To him, she looked like a worn paper doll, aching and tired with nowhere left to house her torment.  It had been over six months since the rainy night that claimed Karl’s life, and Darren was worried for her.  He had seen slow progress; she had returned to work, and started to come out with their mutual friends to movies and bars again, but there was so much of who she was missing.  His friends had told him not to push her; that she would come back into life when she felt good and safe.  But his own selfish motives were prodding him in the back, demanding results.

He sat finally, and realized too late he had taken the chair that Karl normally sat in.  Claudia didn’t seem to flinch, however; her hands were curled around her coffee cup, sipping delicately.  He mixed his own and sat back lazily.

“I love it when you mow the lawn.  It makes your whole house smell great,” Darren said.

Claudia grinned. “The ducks don’t like it much, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well if they give you too much trouble, we’ll have them for dinner.”

At this, she raised her eyebrow in mock horror and gave his arm a smack.  He recoiled, chuckling, acting bruised.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you up this early,” she said.

“Neither can I,” He groaned into the cup, his eyes watching her giggle.

“What brings you over?”

Darren shrugged, “To see if you wanted to go out to a movie or something.”

She hesitated, and some unnamed emotion flashed across her face.  In the first weeks after the accident, she had not taken kindly to what she felt were insulting, pity-motivated attempts to make her feel better by dragging her out into public.  He hoped he had not struck that nerve once more.

But whatever it was, passed. “Maybe, yeah.  I’ve still got a bunch of chores to do today.”

He scoffed, “Chores!  Forget that, let me take you out.”

She didn’t reply, just sipped her coffee.  The thought died uncomfortably.

It was here Darren began fidgeting.  He tapped his fingers on the kitchen table and began to broach casual subjects: movies, music, books, everything they used to talk about before.  He mentioned that his parents missed her, and at this she blushed.  She inquired about some of their friends she hadn’t seen lately.  Then she asked about Laura.

Darren flinched; in the rehearsals of this speech he had made in front of the mirror, in the shower, and on the drive over, he had planned on being the one to bring up the topic of who Claudia thought was still his current and long-time girlfriend.  Like she always seemed to do, however, she’d effectively destroyed his battle plan.

“Well…” Darren struggled for the words, “Laura’s not….around.”  Clever, Shakespeare.  Well done.

Claudia looked truly surprised. “Really?  Wow…you guys were dating for like, two years…what happened?”

Darren tipped his head and shrugged as he raised an ankle to rest on his knee- another anxious gesture that was not lost on his best friend. “Well…I dunno, man.  I just, um….I didn’t feel that connection with her anymore, you know?  Something was definitely gone.”

Claudia seemed hurt for him, and put a hand on top of the arm that still sat on the table. “I’m sorry, hun.  That had to be hard.”

He made a dismissive gesture. “It’s alright; it was for the best.”

“I really thought you guys would be in for the long haul… you seemed so happy.”

Darren looked up and found her expression unreadable.  Her eyes, however, were unmistakably full of pain for him.  He wondered how she survived so empathetic.

“We were, sort of.  But she…” he frowned, clearing his throat. “She found out about…something.”

Claudia lowered her coffee cup slowly, her brown eyes going wide. “Oh, Darren…” she admonished in a hushed whisper.

It took a moment of cognition for Darren to realize why she was so horrified.  He quickly sat up in his chair and waved a hand around. “Oh, no, no! I didn’t cheat on her, Claud.  Really.  Shit, you know me…I’m lucky to find one girl who can stand me, where would I find two?”

Claudia seemed hesitant for a moment, but looked at his relieved grin and relaxed with a crooked smile. “Good point.”

Darren chuckled, but flushed. He took a sip of hot coffee, but it slipped down wrong in his throat, and he began to sputter and cough, sending coffee over the table and down the front of his clean shirt.  He pushed back in his chair, jumping to his feet as he tried to hack the liquid from his lungs.  Claudia shrieked his name and dropped her coffee cup on the table as she leapt up and rushed to him, slapping a strong hand on his back between his shoulder blades.  Darren steadied himself on the counter as he leaned over and struggled for breath. He could hear Claudia’s frightened questions behind him but couldn’t do more than wave a shaky hand in her direction.

He coughed for what seemed like an eternity to both of them.  Finally, he began to suck in gulps of air and stood up straight, tears popping from his eyes, his face as red as the bowl of tomatoes on Claudia’s counter.  Claudia rubbed a worried palm on his back; he turned to look at her and his heart ached.  She looked ready to pass out from fright.

“Are you alright?” her question came out trembling and weak.

Darren shook his head quickly and forced a smile. “Yeah Claud, I’m fine.” Deep breath. “Just lost basic motor functions there for a minute.”

Claudia didn’t seem amused, but she tried, a grin pinching at the borders of her lips.  She couldn’t hide the ghost of Karl screaming in her eyes.

As Darren tried to regain his normal breathing, Claudia fumbled for a towel in a kitchen drawer and handed it to him.  He took it gratefully, patting it over his mouth and neck that were now coated with coffee.  He chuckled at himself as he swept the towel firmly over the stains now settling into his shirt.

“Good thing we’re not going to the prom,” he joked, his eyes smiling up at her.  This time, Claudia grinned back genuinely.

“We should get that shirt in the wash before it gets ruined.” Claudia took the towel from him and started walking out of the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow.  Darren hesitated, feeling his heart thump against his ribs.  But he blinked quickly and followed her out of the kitchen and down the small hallway towards her bedroom.  

Claudia was already in the bedroom, shuffling through clothes and hangers in her closet.  Darren stopped and stood awkwardly, leaning on the doorframe, unsure if he should enter despite wanting to.  He waited silently until Claudia finally turned, holding a black T-shirt emblazoned with the name of a local band that had broken up long ago.  The size of the shirt told him immediately that it had been Karl’s.

“Here,” she handed him the shirt. “Get that one off, and I’ll throw it in the wash.”

Darren swallowed, feeling his throat collapse.  Heat began to caress the tops of his cheeks and forehead, and without realizing it he found his bottom lip wedged between his teeth.  Claudia was watching him with an outstretched hand, her eyes curious.

He cleared his throat finally.  In one swift motion he pulled his stained shirt over his head by the hem and thrust it at her.  As he stood there before her completely unclothed from the waist up, the sensation felt nothing like he thought it would from all his years of fantasizing and daydreaming.  He felt vulnerable, as if any second she would slice his heart out with a steak knife and all he would be able to do is stand there and watch.  His hands twitched as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around either her, or himself.

If Claudia noticed his tension, she didn’t let on.  She handed him the band shirt and smiled. “It should fit you fine.  I’ll be right back, okay?”

Darren couldn’t find words.  He nodded quickly and immediately fumbled his way into the shirt as she turned down the hall and disappeared back towards the kitchen where she kept her washer and dryer.  After a few moments of struggling he finally got the shirt on; he was amazed, and just a little disturbed, at how well it fit.  

Darren took a few deep breaths before he meandered as casually as he could back into the kitchen.  Claudia was just closing the lid on the washer and giving the dial a crank; it rumbled achingly to life.  She turned and saw him walking in, and stopped stiffly.  She stared at Darren, standing there quietly in a shirt she had not seen in months- Karl’s shirt.  They had looked nothing alike, Karl and Darren, but it was enough to give her pause.  Darren seemed like he was growing uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

“What?” he questioned. “Did I spill on this shirt already, too?”

Claudia didn’t answer for a long minute.  Then as if she were being shaken from a dream, she looked up to him and blushed. “No, no.  I….sorry.”

Darren nodded and saved her from having to say the words. “I promise I’ll be careful with it.”

Claudia waved a hand and laughed, but it was a forced admission of just how un-funny she found the situation. “It’s fine.  It’s just a shirt.  That band was terrible, anyway.” She shuffled to the kitchen table with a new dish towel and began to clean up the mess they had both made.  She dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink before dropping to her knees to wipe the remnants of Darren’s off the tiled floor.  Darren watched her, unsure, listening to his indecision yank his brain apart. But when he saw a tear escape and drip onto the white tile, his doubts disappeared.

Darren knelt to the ground beside her slowly; she didn’t look up.  After a moment watching her frantic scrubbing, he placed a strong hand on hers and forced her to stop.  He took the towel from under her hand and threw it across the kitchen.  She wouldn’t look up at him.  With his hand shaking and his heart pounding, he pulled her towards him.  She didn’t fight him as he wrapped the free arm around his own neck and put a gentle hand on the back of her hair, offering his chest to her.  Her face crinkled, wet with tears as she gave in and let him wrap her completely in his arms.  She cried heavily into neck, soaking the shirt, before scrambling with her legs to push herself into his lap.  Darren held her tightly and ran a rhythmic palm down her mousy brown hair as he listened to her cry.

“Everything’s fine, baby,” Darren’s voice was thick with emotion, and he felt the vapors of tears soaking his own eyes.

She sobbed harder than he had ever seen her.  She gripped the shirt like a hawk holding tight to its prey.  Darren’s heart pounded against her.  He felt a tear drip from the corner of his eye into the soft hair on her head; she didn’t seem to notice.  Her pain soaked into him until it was all he could do to not cry himself.  

After a time, Claudia’s cries began to dwindle into soft moans of pain in between uncontrollable sniffling.  Her muscles were going limp in Darren’s arms; he knew she had to have been exhausted.  Soon, even the moans were gone, and she let him hold her silently as she rested against his chest.  Outside, the sound of the ducks and geese splashing and quacking in the creek added a strange, uplifting atmosphere to the kitchen.  The sun, too, seemed in on the joke; it shone into the kitchen unabated as it rose over the trees.

But Darren felt no sunshine as he held his broken friend in his arms.  Like a punch in the gut, the true reality he was facing had sneaked up on him.  He knew Claudia wouldn’t be completely over Karl; that was to be expected.  But he had no idea just how selfish he would feel even considering the idea of sweeping her off her feet at a time like this.  He chuckled bitterly to himself, soft and low; once again, Claudia blew his plan to pieces.  

But he knew it didn’t matter.  She mattered.  Her happiness mattered.  And he couldn’t make her happy, not now.

He felt his heart ripping apart.

Claudia was nearly asleep in his arms, exhausted by her grief.  As carefully as he could, Darren pushed himself out from under her and stood, then coaxed her gently to her feet with the same voice he used on his small nephew, to get the child to jump in the swimming pool with him.  It worked, and he got her to stand long enough that he could tuck his arms under her knees and lift her off her feet.  She cradled her head against his shoulder as he carefully maneuvered out of the kitchen, down the hall and to her bedroom.  

Darren laid Claudia on her soft bedspread; it was decorated with sunflowers, her favorite.  It smelled clean and bright.  Immediately she rolled onto her side and tucked her arms under one of her pillows, eager to sleep the pain away.  Darren lowered himself gently onto the mattress and rubbed her arm with affection.  He watched her struggling to open her swollen eyes and look at him.

“Darren… please.”

“What, Claud?”

She was jerking at the hem of his shirt.  Karl’s shirt.

Darren’s heart sank.  But he gave her a teary smile as he pulled the shirt off and tucked it into her arms. “There.  Hopefully I didn’t stink it up already.” He tried to chuckle.

“No, Darren...”

“Shhh.  It’s okay hun. I can make it home shirtless.” Another forced chuckle trailed his words.

She was pushing the black shirt into a ball towards the pillows.  It seemed she was having trouble moving, like she was losing the battle against her exhaustion and despair.  Her words were intelligible but she was clearly upset.

Darren rubbed her back soothingly. “Claud, it’s okay baby.  I’ll come get my shirt later.  You hold on to that and get some sleep, have some good dreams.” His eyes were wrapping in tears. “You call me later though okay?”

“Darren,” she whined desperately.

“I know…” he leaned down and laid his cheek on hers. “I know it hurts.  I know.  But it will get better.  One day at a time, Claud.  And I’m always here for you.” He started trembling. “I’ll never leave you alone.  We’ll get through this together.”

Claudia blinked heavily, slurring his name.  He planted a firm, honest kiss on her cheek and gave her hair another rub. “Go to sleep now.  Everything will be better when you wake up.”

“No…” Claudia sounded ready to let loose another torrent of tears.

Darren stood from the mattress, keeping a palm on her arm.  He considered a moment the possibility that all she wanted was for him to stay, to lie next to her and help her sleep through this episode.  And he knew it was what a best friend would do; what a best friend should do.  But he could not crawl in next to her.  Watching her clutch at Karl’s shirt, tears streaming down her face as she seemed to try to claw her way into the very mattress on her bed was too much.  The image of Karl’s pictures turned backwards in her living room- invisible but still so present- floated in the back of his mind like a ghost in a dark hallway.  And the ache in his arms, and in his heart, from being so close and yet so far was drowning him.  He wasn’t the man he had thought he was when he woke up that morning, determined to both pull Claudia out of her darkness and finally be true to the love he had held for her for so long.  How blind he had been, pulling on his shoes and brushing his teeth with a smile and a song in his heart, confident in nothing but a positive outcome.  How stupid he was, waving at the morning sun and thanking it for shining on him.

He was alone, and a fool.

Darren’s own tears began to roll down his face; Claudia was nearly asleep, muttering to herself even now.  Protests, cries, arguments.  But he couldn’t answer them.

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and bent to kiss her head one more time.  He knew when she woke up, she would call him, embarrassed, and he would assure her that everything was fine.  That he was glad to help.

He hoped, by that time, he would have figured out whether or not that was a lie.

Darren gave her one last look as he scraped, defeated, out of the room.  The hallway was slowly filling with lazy sunlight from the kitchen; it seemed so inappropriate now.  He headed into the living room and without stopping, yanked the front door open.  He secured it behind him once he had stepped onto the porch; a muted summer breeze wafted over his shirtless chest like a weightless embrace.  He sighed to push his tears back where they belonged before he tromped down the porch steps and out onto the path.  The ducks scurried out of his way without a sound.

Inside her room, Claudia squirmed on her bedspread as if she was in bodily pain.  She heard a car door shut crisply.  The roar of Darren’s engine ignited the ducks into a vocal protest.  Gravel spun under his tires as he flipped around her small driveway.

Her tears had soaked the pillow under her head.  The shirt Darren had worn- Karl’s shirt- she had shoved to the other side of the mattress, uninterested.  She cursed her grief, and the immobility it caused.

Under the pillow where Karl used to sleep, her hand gripped tight an envelope, and inside a letter, addressed to Darren, that she had written not two weeks ago.  It had taken her months to gather the courage to put into words what she wanted to say to him.

Painfully, she wondered how much longer it would take her to find the courage to put it in his hands.