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I guess it took my mother turning up to show me that family is what sticks by you, not what walks away.
He made me lose myself. With every thrust, with every groan, he made the world disappear, he made everything but us disappear. He made me his.
I wanted Travis to have me, to take me, to make me his. I wanted to give him what he gave me, and I wanted him to know I belonged only to him.
Something had changed last night, for me at least, like I’d fallen in love all over again or something I couldn’t place. I don’t know if it was the uncertainty of Ma’s health or the reappearance of my estranged mother or the intimacy of what we’d done last night, but something was different. I needed to be near Travis. I needed him close, and by the way he hugged me and kissed me oh so softly before we left for the hospital, I figured he felt the same.
“I will be just fine. We’ll get through it, and you know what? The rest can wait.” I wiped his tears with my thumbs. “It can all wait. It doesn’t matter if all of those things fall through, Travis. At the end of the day, they’re not important.” “Yes, they are,” he said. “They’re important to you, to this farm.” “Nowhere near as important to me than you,” I whispered. “Trav, baby, you have to go.”
“It’s like having one lung removed. I can still live and breathe, but God, it’s not the same. My chest hurts and I have this hollow emptiness that weighs me down. And sometimes I think of him out of the blue and it stops me right where I stand, and I have to catch my breath.”
Travis, If this is your goodbye, please know that I am, and will always be, grateful for you. This desert has not changed in ten thousand years, yet now it is not the same. Like me, I guess. I washed your shirts today. They didn’t smell like you anymore. I will wait for you. I love you. If this is your goodbye, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.
