2014 Nanowrimo - Overflow Conclusion

When I called my mom to tell her I was engaged, she was thrilled.  She knew how hard the lose of Daisy had hit me, and she was glad I was moving on with my life.  I don't think she fully understood my love for Daisy, but she was glad I had Hannah to love.  Steve was happy for me, too.

After talking to my mom on the phone about my exciting news, and promising to send her a picture of the engagement ring I picked out, which Hannah had loved, I found myself scrolling down to Chelsea's name in my contacts list, but then just hovering over her number with my finger.  Why had I thought I was going to call her next?  And why had I stopped?  I decided calling Chelsea would be silly, and that was why I had stopped.  I hadn't been close to Chelsea for a while.  Why would I call her next?  Roger, at least, I still stayed in contact with fairly regularly.  I called Roger next.  Then I called a friend from work.  Then I called my grandma.  I didn't call Chelsea at all.


Getting engaged is really exciting, but also a lot of work.  Over the rest of that summer we settled on a date (June 7 the following summer), a venue (Hannah's parents' ranch), and a caterer (my mom's restaurant did catering and though my mom would not be in charge the day of, she would help us pick the perfect menu).  The biggest decision that remained was the dress, a decision of which I was to have no part since Hannah wanted it to be a big surprise.  My job, instead, was to work on the guest list and start sending out save the date notices that fall.

It was a couple weeks after the "save the dates" went out that I got the call from Chelsea.  "Why didn't you tell me you got engaged?" she asked.

"It was on Facebook," I weakly defended myself.

"Yes, I saw that.  I thought it must have been a joke since you didn't tell me," Chelsea quipped.

"Chell, I know I should have, but..."

"You're getting married, Dave," she interrupted.  She didn't sound as happy as she should have.  "You have to let me go."

I felt anger boil up inside.  I wasn't sure I had ever felt that angry at Chelsea before.  "That's not why I didn't call," I said flatly.

"Then why didn't you?" she asked.

"Because we haven't been that close," I said.  "Not for a long while."

"That's bull," Chelsea said.  "I've a good friend of yours.  I am your friend.  And I'm Hannah's friend, too."

"Yeah," I retorted, "then why aren't you angry at Hannah for not calling to tell you about our engagement?"

"She did," Chelsea said flatly.  "Hannah called me two days after it happened.  She wanted to make sure I knew because she was afraid you might feel awkward telling me because of your history."

I felt my heart thumping harder and I got a little nervous.  "What did you say?" I asked.

"I said what you just said.  That we hadn't been that close recently and that was why you didn't call and that you were over me."

"But just now you said..."

"I lied," Chelsea interrupted.  Before I could ask which time she had hung up.  I was somewhat thankful for that.  I didn't want to know which time she thought had been a lie.


Chelsea and I didn't talk for months after that.  I went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and even though I know Chelsea was there, I didn't see her at all.  It wasn't until my birthday that I heard from her again.  I got a card from her in the mail, a birthday card, but inside she had written, "I'm sorry."  I called her up.

"I'm sorry, too, Chell," I said.  "Our relationship has always been confusing, but I love Hannah.  I really do, and I want to spend my life with her."

Chelsea sighed, a hundred miles away, and I heard her.  "I know," she admitted.  "I know that.  I guess I... I just wanted to give you one last chance, to be absolutely sure.  I'll always love you Dave, and now, maybe finally, I can be confident in how we love one another.  Your heart belongs to Hannah, and it should."

The seriousness out of the way, we talked a bit more about how our lives had been doing.  Chelsea was currently single again.  I could never keep track of her boyfriends, but I did remember she had supposedly been very serious about someone.  I didn't ask about that, though.  I knew better.  If it had been a hard breakup, she seemed okay now.

She mentioned that my mom's restaurant was hosting a fundraiser for the shelter where she and Steve worked.  I was welcome to attend, but they were having it on Valentine's day, so she guessed I'd have other plans with Hannah.

"Yeah, probably," I admitted.

"That's the way it should be," Chelsea said.  I chose to believe that she really meant that.  "Well, you take care of yourself, Dave.  I'll see you for your wedding, and I'm sorry again."

"I'm sorry, too, Chell," I said, "for everything.  And I want you to know that we always have been and always will be friends."

I felt her smile from a hundred miles away.  "Thanks, Dave," she said.  "I feel the same way."


For the next month after that, things seemed good.  I'd keep up with Chelsea on Facebook and text occasionally.  It was one of those "close" periods.  Hannah and I grew closer than we had ever been.  Hannah was still plenty busy with school, but she was excited for the wedding and our future together and was looking forward to getting a job in another year.  We thought about moving back to the town we had grown up in, to be near our parents.  "It would be nice," I said, "but there's nothing wrong with being independent."  Hannah agreed with her words, though I felt like she wanted to say something more.


Chelsea was right in her assessment that I was more interested in spending Valentine's day with Hannah than at a pet fundraiser.  As much as I loved pets, and Chelsea did too, it wasn't quite romantic enough.  We had a glorious night on Valentine's Day.  This was the first Valentine's Day since we got engaged and I wanted it to be special.  I had made reservations for this day the night after we got engaged, because I knew all the really good places could book as far as a year in advance.  We ate at a fancy little Spanish place and had champagne and flan for dessert.  The total bill was close to $200, but Hannah was worth it.  When I looked at her smile and saw the ring I had got her shimmering on her finger as she folded her hands in front of her, gazing into my eyes, I felt like the happiest and luckiest man in the world.  It was like I was living in a dream, and as I drifted off to sleep, the feeling of peace continued.

It continued until a buzzing woke me up in the middle of the night.  It was so startling yet so faint that I thought I was still dreaming at first.  I didn't get to it in time, but I saw that it was Chelsea calling me.  Baffled, I fumbled for the redial, but before I could even press the button, the phone was buzzing again.  Still Chelsea.  I answered as I got out of bed, confused and a little worried.  "Hello?" I mumbled as I stumbled for the bedroom door to get somewhere where I could turn on the lights without waking Hannah.

"Da-vid," I could barely make out my name amid sobs, "your mother... accident... sorry... all because... sorry."

I felt my heart pounding like a jackhammer.  "Chelsea," I said, surprisingly calmly, "What's wrong.  What happened to my mother?  Where is she?"

"Surgery," Chelsea answered.  She seemed to have taken a deep breath and calmed down some while I was speaking.  "She's in surgery, David, at St. Vincent hospital.  You and Hannah should come, right now.  I don't know..." her voice was breaking, "I don't know if she's going to make it..."  I felt tears welling up in my own eyes as Chelsea started bawling on her side of the line.  I must have been in shock.  I felt like crying but I couldn't, and I suddenly felt very cold.  "You have to come," Chelsea managed again.

I glanced back towards the bedroom door, just open a crack.  I thought of my beautiful bride to be, all the joy and laughter we had shared that evening.  I didn't want to ruin it.  I didn't want it to end.  "I'll be right there," I said to Chelsea, and I hung up while she was still crying, ran to throw on some pants and shoes, and rushed out the door without a word to Hannah.

I drove on through the night.  It had been just after 2am when Chelsea had called and I made it to the hospital just before 5am, about 30 minutes faster than the drive usually would have been.  I rushed around like a madman at first, trying to find where my mother might be, and then I saw Chelsea, just standing there in a hallway, her hair a mess though it was clear it had been nicely made up the night before, clutching her left arm with her right hand.  She turned at the sound of my footsteps on the linoleum and I saw mascara had run all down her face, but she managed a weak smile.  "She's in that room," she said, nodding her head towards the door she had been staring at.  "She just got out of surgery.  Won't be awake for another hour.  She might still be okay."

I walked up to Chelsea, trembling.  She looked at me with such pain in her eyes.  She clearly wanted to comfort me, but she also needed comforting herself, so I became the one giving her a hug.  She hugged me back with a strength I was surprised she possessed in such a ragged state.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered in my ear.

"It will be okay," I whispered back, not sure I believed that myself.  There was a pause and I felt her breath warm in my ear.  Though it was warm, I nearly shivered.  "What happened?" I finally asked.

Chelsea pulled back from me and wiped her eyes, which only served to smear her makeup more.  "It was after the fundraiser," she said.  She looked at me at first, but then she looked down at her feet, like she was ashamed.  "It got over just after midnight and then we had to clean up.  By the end, it was just me, your mom, and Steve.  I was tired, so tired, and I'm sure your mom and Steve were, too, but they insisted they were fine.  They told me to go on ahead, that they would be just a few minutes behind me.  I was tired, so I agreed.  I was slow walking to my car... I had parked far away to make sure there was parking space for all our guests.  I got into my car and sat down but I was so tired, I really didn't think I could drive home, so I went back in the restaurant and asked your mom and Steve for a ride.  They happily agreed, just so nice, so..."She started to whimper, but she took a deep breath and fought back the tears.  I rubbed her arms reassuringly and she looked up at me.  "It was my fault," she said, loudly enough that a nurse down the hall looked up at us.  "If I hadn't needed a ride home, they wouldn't have gone that way and he wouldn't have crashed into them.  That filthy drunk driver!  He destroyed the front of the car, the front passenger side, right where you mom..."  She couldn't remain calm any longer.  She burst into tears and crumpled to the floor, I bent down with her, trying to steady her, but soon we were both in a heap, sobbing.  I pulled her away from the hallway until we were leaning against an empty receptionist stand nearby.  I hugged her and rocked her back and forth and we cried and cried and cried.

Finally, we pulled apart.  I looked at her and wiped the tears from her face, getting mascara on my finger which I looked at with a smirk.  Chelsea laughed, and I smiled at her.  "It's not your fault," I said, gently running my fingers through her tangled hair.  "It's not your fault at all.  If you had driven home alone, tired, you might have gotten in a crash, you might have hurt someone or yourself.  You were responsible for your own safety and the safety of those around you.  You took your responsibility seriously.  The drunk driver, that man was responsible for my mother."

Chelsea nodded and frowned.  "You say that now, but what if she doesn't pull through... what if... what then?"

I felt my heart thumping again but I forced myself to say, "She will pull through."  There was silence for a moment and then I asked, nervously, "What about Steve."

"He's in a coma at the moment," Chelsea said, "but his vitals are good and the doctors hope he'll come out of it within the next few days, though it's impossible to know for sure.  Your mother is the one they're more worried about."

"What did they..." I didn't get to finish my question because I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket.  I took it out and found I had never been so dismayed to see my fiance's name on the caller id before.  "It's Hannah," I said, not looking up.

I did look up when I felt Chelsea's hand on my shoulder.  "David, you didn't...?"

I shook my head.  "How could I?"

Chelsea's eyes grew wide.  "Answer it now."

She didn't have to tell me, and yet maybe she did.  I answered the phone and stood up, turning away from Chelsea.  "I'm so sorry, babe," I said.

"Where on earth are you?" she asked.  "I saw you gone and your car gone but your id badge still on the counter.  I was worried sick."

"I'm at St. Vincent hospital," I said.

"Are you okay?"

"Physically," I said.  "It's my mom."

"Geez, David!  You should have told me.  Why didn't you..."  She took a deep breath and let it out loudly.  "I'll be right there."  And she had hung up.  As I looked at the phone in my hand, still showing me to whom I had just spoken, I couldn't help but feel a new sense of dread.  I hadn't wanted to burden Hannah with this.  I hadn't wanted her to have to come here at all, and now she was having to drive here all by herself when I could have driven her here with me.  What had I been thinking.

I felt a hand on my shoulder again.  I turned and saw Chelsea again.  "You should have told her," was what I expected her to say, but instead she gave a weak smile and said, "It's going to be okay."  I hugged her again, so glad that she was there, and we walked hand in hand to the waiting area until a doctor came an hour later to tell me my mother was waking up.  He said they were hopeful, but he made no guarantees.


Hannah still wasn't anywhere close to being there, but I went in with Chelsea to talk to mom.  The doctor had wanted only immediate family, but I insisted Chelsea was close enough.  My mom was weak, but seemed to be in good spirits.  Chelsea started in again with how sorry she was, but my mom echoed my words that it wasn't at all her fault.  She told Chelsea that she loved her like a daughter and then turned to me with a twinkle in her eye and said that she loved me like a son.  We all laughed, though my mom's laughter ended with some coughing that she assured us was nothing to worry about (though how could she know).  I sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand, while Chelsea stood behind me.  We talked very little.  My mom was still weak from the surgery, but what little we did talk made the hospital room feel like home and gave me hope that everything really was going to be okay.  My mom drifted off into a nap just before Hannah arrived.

When Hannah got there, she looked nearly as exhausted as I felt.  She seemed sad, but not just because of what had happened to my mother.  "You should have told me," she said.  "I would have come with you."

"I didn't want to bother you," I replied.

"Don't be ridiculous, David!  If we're going to get married, we have to share one another's troubles."  She sighed.  "How is she?"

I managed a little smile as I took Hannah's hand.  "Sleeping," I said.

"What do the doctors say?"

"They aren't saying much.  At this point we have to wait and see."  I almost choked on the words.  Leaving my mother's life up to fate, feeling like there was nothing I could do.  It was awful.

"How's Chelsea?  Is she okay?"

I nodded.  "Chelsea's fine.  A bruised shoulder and that's it.  Steve's in a coma.  Have to wait and see with him, too."

This was when Hannah opened her arms and hugged me.  "I'm so, so sorry, David," she said.  "If it were my parents... I just can't even imagine."

"Just hope and pray it never is," I said.

She pulled away.  "Come on, I'll buy you a coffee."


My mother woke up twice more that day.  Once Hannah and I went in to see her.  She talked about how happy she was for us and how she looked forward to having grandchildren.  She talked about how she would spoil them and what great parents we would be and how good we were together.  The second time, Hannah and Chelsea and I were all in the room, though she seemed to look only at me.  She told me how proud she was of me and that she loved me and wanted me to keep following my dreams.  Then she noticed Hannah and Chelsea as well and we talked about favorite memories.  "I love you so much, mom," I said, tears welling in my eyes.

"There's no need to cry," she said, her hand trembling as she reached for me to wipe the tears away.  "When I get out of here, we'll all go out and have a nice meal together."  Shortly after that she drifted off to sleep again.  The doctor said that was good.  She needed lots of sleep.

That night, I slept at my mother's bedside, in the chair, holding her hand.  Chelsea slept out in the waiting area and Hannah in another chair in the corner of the room.  The next morning, Steve woke up.  My mother didn't.

The sound of her heart rate monitor going flat startled me awake.  Before I knew it, there was a doctor and two nurses rushing in.  They pushed me aside and tried to rescusitate her just as Hannah was waking up.  They tried for at least five minutes before they called it.  "Try again!" Hannah insisted.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, avoiding eye contact.  "She's gone."

She's gone.  Two simple words.  I remembered hearing the vet say them about cats many times.  "He's gone" or "she's gone."  I even thought those words about Daisy when she died.  I never imagined I'd be sitting in a hospital room hearing them about my mother.  The doctor was saying something to me, but I didn't hear him.  I didn't hear anything.  I just stood up, ignoring Hannah's sobs mixed with efforts to comfort me and said, "I have to go."

"David!" I heard Hannah call out after me.

"I have to go," was all I said.


I was standing by the graveside, when I sensed someone approaching behind me.  I looked back at Chelsea, and said, with tears streaming down my face, "How am I supposed to go on."

"I have no idea," she said.  She walked up to me and put my hand on my shoulder.  She was standing behind me.  Always just behind me, out of position for an embrace, but supporting me, making me stronger.

I looked down at the tomb stone:  Daisy, age 18 when she died.  How did Chelsea know I would come here?  I felt guilty coming her.  I should be with my mom, even though she was gone.

"How did you know where to find me?" I asked.

"Hannah wanted me to come look for you," she said.

"But she didn't know I would be here."

"No."

"You did."

"Yes.  It's where I would have gone."

I turned around and forced her to look into my eyes.  I looked into hers full of despair and longing at the same time.  I thought back to when her dog, Lily, had died.  How heartbroken she had been, how similar I had been when Daisy died, how much worse it was now.  "It should have been you," I said.

Her eyes widened and a look of shock overcame her.  "What?"

"It should have been you I asked to marry me," I said quickly, realizing she had thought I was talking about something else.

"David..."

"No, it should have," I insisted, grasping her shoulders a bit too forcefully.  "You know me better than Hannah does, you're always there for me, and I'm not afraid to go to you."

"You've known me longer," Chelsea reasoned.  "You'll get there with Hannah."

"But I'm not there yet," I said.

"It doesn't matter," Chelsea insisted.  "You're happy with Hannah.  You love Hannah.  You're meant to be with Hannah."

"But who is it that's standing beside me now?" I asked more vehemently than I intended.

Chelsea reached up and moved one of my hands down from her shoulder.  Quietly, she said, "Hannah would be with you right now if you let her."

I looked down because I knew she was right.  I said, "She's not here because I didn't want her to be."

"I know," Chelsea said.

There was silence for a moment, and then I looked up again, tears starting to form in my eyes all over again.  I gave Chelsea's hand a squeeze and said, "I love you, Chell."

Chelsea didn't let go of my hand, but she shook her head.  "No," she said as she closed her eyes, "you love Hannah."

"Can't I love you both?" I asked.

She opened her eyes again.  "Not the way you think you do," she said.

I sighed.  "My mom told me she was happy for me and Hannah, before, before she died, so I feel that pressure, but it isn't right.  I think she would have been happier if it had been you and me.  I think I would have been happier, too.  I really feel like I've made a mistake, Chell, that you're the one I should be with.  "

She shook her head again and this time she pulled her hand out of mine and I let her.  "You haven't," she assured me, "but even if you had, you made the choice a long time ago and you can't go back now."

"You're wrong," I countered.  "It isn't too late.  Hannah and I aren't married yet."

Chelsea was silent.  She seemed a little nervous as she looked down at the ground.

Nearly a minute passed before I asked, "Do you love me, Chelsea?"

She closed her eyes.  Took a deep breath, and replied, "It doesn't matter how I feel."

"Of course it does!" I exclaimed.

Her eyes shot open and her head shot up.  "No, not in this case it doesn't," she said, "because I already know that you don't love me the way you think you do right now."

"How can you know that?" I asked, feeling a bit upset that she would assume such a thing.

She took another deep breath and said, "Because if you must know, I do love you, David.  With all my heart.  I've loved you for years.  When I first thought I loved you, that was when I didn't, but now, I really, truly do.  You're the reason my previous relationship, the one I said I was so serious about, fell apart.  I still loved you.  I couldn't let go.  And I haven't grabbed on to anyone else since.  But you have to let go because with my love, comes knowledge, and I know that you will be happier with Hannah than with me.  Because you love her more than you love me.  You just need to finally realize that."

I was shocked.  I just stood there with my mouth open.  All I could utter was,

"Chelsea..."

Then she did something completely unexpected.  She stepped forward and kissed me full on the lips.  It was a long, deliberate kiss, and as she gave it to me, I knew it was the only one I would ever have from her.  When she stepped back there were tears in her eyes.  "I love you so much, David," she said, "that I have to do what's best for you.  I will always be there for you, but Hannah needs to be there even more.  Now come on, I'll drive you back to the hospital, and then Hannah will take it from there."


There are no words to describe the weeks that followed that.  It was the saddest, darkest time of my life.  I had lost my mother from this earth and I had lost Chelsea from my life.  She was still there, at the funeral, and even after that, but she kept her distance.  Hannah didn't seem to know just what had happened between us.  She used to be jealous of Chelsea, when there was really nothing to worry about it, and now she didn't see how torn I was.  She must have assumed it was all over my mother, and most of it was, but there was so much more than that.

We postponed our wedding until the next summer.  It didn't seem right to be so happy so soon after my mother's death.  Then when the next summer approached, something completely unexpected happened.  I found that Chelsea had been wrong.

Hannah told me she had tried to help, she had tried to comfort me, to be there for me, but I just hadn't been the same since my mother's death.  She didn't think she could go on.  She didn't think she could marry me.  I think she knew it wasn't my mother's death that had driven us apart, not really.

I should have been heartbroken, but I wasn't.  My heart had been broken a long time ago.  I knew that now, all I would be able to do was remember her.  In time, Hannah would become a distant memory.  She would be a pleasant memory, or at least the things we had done together would be, but she would be a memory, just like Daisy, and just like my mom.

Chelsea could have become a memory, too, but I didn't want to just remember her.  Remembering her wasn't enough for me.

So that summer, I went home.  First I visited Daisy's grave.  Then I visited my mother's grave.  Then I visited Chelsea.  She was working as an "on call" vet's assistant, traveling to people's homes, answering concerned calls after hours.  It seemed stressful, but she loved it, or so I saw on Facebook where she still allowed me to keep up with what she was doing.  I don't think she expected to ever see me in person again, at least not besides at the wedding that was no longer going to happen.

I knew her address only from the "save the date" and "save the date update" we had sent out, and the awkward cancellation notice we had sent out a few months ago.  When I knocked on the door and answered it, she didn't look happy.  But when she said, "David," I knew she was glad to see me and just didn't want to admit it.

"Did you mean it?" I asked.

"Mean what?" she was still standing in the doorway, not inviting me in.

"What you said the day my mom died, when you said you loved me but I should be with Hannah?"

She nodded.  "I meant every word," she admitted, hand still on the open door, not moving forward.

"You were wrong about the Hannah part," I said.  "Were you wrong about loving me?"

"I couldn't possibly be wrong about that," she said.  "Are you sure I was wrong about Hannah?"

"Absolutely," I said.  My heart was pounding.  I thought of Daisy's purr, my mother's smile, and of Chelsea, of holding her in my arms, of growing old together, of how I never wanted to let her go.  "Are you going to tell me I could be wrong about loving you?"

She didn't answer.  She just looked into my eyes.  What did I see there.  Hope?

"I love you," I said.

She smiled.  That was all I needed.  It turned out that kiss at the graveside wasn't the only kiss I'd have to remember her by after all.