One Day Soon (30 page)

A ripping that started somewhere deep down inside.

“And I’ll never see you again, will I?”

It wasn’t a question that really needed answering.

Yoss seemed intent on running away from me just as he done all those years before.

“You and I were only ever temporary, Imi.” Yoss’s voice was thick.

“Is that why you left me that day? Is that why you never came looking for me? Because I was
temporary?”

Yoss sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Not now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I repeated dully.

“Imi, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what
did
you mean
?”

“You and I could never have stayed together. It wouldn’t have worked,” he finally said.

“That’s bullshit. We loved each other. That’s all that matters—”

“We weren’t some sappy fucking country song, Imogen! We had nowhere to go! Because the place where we
had
been sleeping burned down. We lost so much already. Holding onto each other seemed foolish. And I knew I couldn’t give you the life you needed. The one you
should
have! I was only ever going to be some dirty man’s secret in an alleyway. You
saw
it! Christ, Imi, I saw your face when you found me! How could I go to bed with you at night knowing the things I’ve had to do keep us fed? I saw the way you looked at me. You loved me, sure. But you were disgusted too.”

“That’s not true!” I argued. But I was lying.

He was right.

I had been disgusted by him. And the choices he continued to make. I had felt betrayed. Hurt. Especially that last day. When he had made so many promises and broke all of them.

“We were going to start over somewhere else, Yoss.”

He rubbed his temples as though he had a headache. “This was never about me. It was always about you. Don’t you see that?”

I was tired of his evasiveness. “If it was all about me, you never would have left! Don’t you understand what it did to me when you never showed up? How a big part of me died that day under the bridge?”

Yoss’s eyes flashed in my direction. Fiery. Alive. It was a relief to see. But it also worried me.

“You went home, Imi! You graduated from high school! You went to college! You got a fucking job that means something! You have a home! You were married, starting a family. You were doing everything you were supposed to!” He was shouting. I should have cared about the noise we were making. I should have cared that others could have heard us.

But we were finally making headway. Getting somewhere.

I took a step forward, invading his personal space. Our faces were only inches apart. We were both breathing heavily, our cheeks flushed. I met his gaze and leveled him with the cold, hard truth. The one he seemed to be evading.

“I should have been doing those things with
you.”

Yoss shook his head. “We were only together for six months—”

“Six months that might as well have been sixty years. Time is inconsequential given what we were to each other. Or was I mistaken? Was I the only one feeling the things that I did? Was it all a lie, Yoss?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his energy draining. He sat down heavily on the bed, his elbows on his knees, gripping his head in his hands. “No. It wasn’t a lie,” he said, as if the words were wrenched out of him.

That’s all I needed to hear.

I sat down beside him, close, but not touching. “Don’t leave, Yoss. Not yet. Promise me.”

“Imogen, I can’t stay here. I’m crawling out of my skin. The smell. The sounds. It’s driving me crazy.” He dropped his hands so that they dangled between his knees. His shoulders were slumped. He looked tired. Exhausted.

“Not yet, Yoss. Please. Let me figure something out for you.” Our eyes met. They held. They clung. Fire sparked and ignited.

And burned his resistance to the ground.

“Not yet,” he agreed.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I had no plan.

Yoss wouldn’t go to a shelter. There were minimal funds for other accommodation. I spent all afternoon on the phone talking to social services, churches, and community boards. Anyone who could help Yoss.

But hands were tied. Resources slim. “Send him to the shelter,” I was told over and over again.

I even broke down and called Tracey Higgins.

“It took you long enough to call me back, Imogen,” Tracey said snidely.

I gritted my teeth. “I know, Tracey. I apologize. But I’m calling now to see if we can coordinate something for Yoss Frazier. He’s due to be discharged from the hospital, possibly today. I’m hoping we can come up with somewhere for him to go.”

“I told you I would hold a bed for him at the shelter,” Tracey interjected sharply.

“Tracey, Yoss doesn’t want to go to the shelter. He is very adamant about that. You know as well as I do that you can’t force someone to go,” I said evenly.

“Look, Imogen, I work my ass off in this community to provide a safe place for the homeless population. I have two security guards on at night and three full-time staff members seeing to over fifty clients a day. I sit at the table and try to do whatever needs done to help these people. Do you know what
doesn’t
help them?” she snapped.

“I don’t mean to insult your services—”

“What doesn’t help them are people like you, Imogen. You think you’re the only one who can save them. You want to play superhero when what you should be doing is making sure we’re all playing an equal part,” Tracey went on angrily.

I started to lose my patience. My nerves were frayed as it was and Tracey’s moral superiority complex wasn’t helping.

“Tracey, this isn’t about you or me. And this certainly isn’t about your damn pride. This about helping Yoss find a place to go!” I growled into the phone.

“My pride? Seriously? You think you’re going to get any help talking to people like this?” Tracey demanded.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I sincerely apologize,” I told her through clenched teeth.

“Humph. Well, I think you have a lot to learn about being a social worker, Imogen.”

Don’t tell her what you really think of her, Imogen. Play nice.

“Do you have funds to put Yoss in a hotel perhaps? What about transitional housing?” I changed the subject. I wanted to help Yoss, but I wouldn’t be her whipping boy either.

“Our funds are depleted for the year. As for transitional housing, there are no openings in the program currently,” Tracey responded shortly.

“There has to be an option—”

“There is. The shelter. I’m afraid that’s it. So perhaps instead of wasting my time, you should be discussing the benefits of the shelter program with Mr. Frazier. Because that’s all I can offer him at the moment.”

I knew funds were tight, but I wondered if her resistance to helping Yoss had more to do with me than anything else.

Whatever the reason, Tracey Higgins wasn’t going to help.

“Okay. Well thank you for all of your time,” I said a little sarcastically.

“Let me know if he plans to come. Goodbye.” Tracey hung up before I could say anything else.

I slammed the phone down and covered my face with my hands.

I became angry. Infuriated. And finally despondent.

Yoss was dying.

His options were few.

And there was very little I could do for him.

“He’s agreed to stay. For now,” I told Dr. Howell later that day.

“Is he still adamant about not going to a shelter?”

“Yes. I’m trying to find somewhere else for him to go, but I’m not getting a whole lot of help in that department,” I explained, feeling like a failure. Feeling like nothing I was doing would ever be enough.

“He’s lucky to have you on his side, Imogen,” Dr. Howell said and I felt my eyes sting. His words were meant to be a compliment. Why did it feel like a lie?

“Don’t leave. Not yet,” I said to him before I left that evening.

This time Yoss didn’t respond.

“Promise, Yoss,” I pleaded.

My only answer was the beating of an aching heart.

It seemed we were always ending before we had a chance to begin.

My house felt empty. I stood inside the front foyer, not bothering to turn on the lights.

This doesn’t feel right.

I jingled my keys in my hand and couldn’t make myself take another step.

“I can’t stay here. I’m crawling out of my skin.”

I was filled with dread. Yoss would disappear. He would slip quietly out of my life again. Breaking me apart in the way only he could.

I could see the resignation in his eyes. The set of his mouth. He was going to leave.

I gripped my keys so tightly in my palm that they bit into flesh.

My ex-husband’s words seemed to echo through the silent rooms. An accusation. A harsh slap in the face.

“Your heart has never been in this, Imi. I’m not sure why you ever married me in the first place.”

The thought of Yoss going back to the world he came from, the world we had lived in together, made me want to throw things. It made me want to rage and scream and cry.

He held me as the sun set over the horizon. We were so close. I knew that I’d never love like this again. I felt it with the certainty of a young, passionate heart.

“One day soon,” Yoss murmured into my hair.

“One day soon,” I repeated softly.

I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears dripped onto my lips.

I had been waiting.

Some days patiently.

Some days not so patiently.

To find him again.

I turned on my heel and walked back out of the house. I got into my car and pulled out of the driveway.

I drove back towards the only place I could go.

My happy life.