I watched as the smile faded from his face and his shoulders slumped forward. We had been dating for over three years and I had never once seen him look like that.
His brown eyes darkened until they were almost black and he nodded slowly, listening to his mom’s voice. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I could hear the rise and fall of her voice.
Whatever was going on, it was bad. Really bad.
I watched Wyatt closely, straining my ears to hear what his mom was saying. All I could hear was her occasional sobs and a soft whisper. My eyes were glued to Wyatt’s face, but he didn’t look at me until he hung up the phone.
As he set the phone down on the table, his eyes rose to meet my gaze. I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. He let me, but he didn’t move to return my hold. His fingers were cold and limp in mine.
He looked like a statue, sitting there with wide eyes and a vacant expression. Deep down, I knew what the news was, but I waited for him to tell me. I didn’t want to assume the worst until I knew. Until he said the words.
It was minutes before Wyatt moved again.
Slowly, he began to shake his head side to side. Our waiter came over to bring us the check. I took it and waved him away impatiently, my eyes never leaving Wyatt’s face.
I wanted him to know I was there. I wouldn’t speak. I wouldn’t move. Not until he did, but I would be there with him.
I would sit at that table in that restaurant all night if that was what he needed.
While Wyatt processed the news, his expression slowly began to change. He no longer looked empty, he looked sad and determined. Then thunderous.
His eyes hardened and he looked at me with a steely glint that made me want to turn away from him.
I didn’t.
Not now when he needed me.
I held his gaze and waited for him to speak. When he finally did it was just two words. Just two words that would change his entire life and I didn’t know it yet, but mine too.
“He’s gone.”
The words hung in the air between us for several moments.
The air between us seemed to still even though the rest of the world continued to move around us. My vision was blurred around the edges, the only solid thing was Wyatt. Sounds – the click and clatter for cutlery being used, laughter and incoherent conversations - became muted as if coming from a great distance.
I nodded slowly and held his hand tighter in mine. We were frozen in time as we sat there. Wyatt didn’t move. I rubbed my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand and waited.
I would wait as long as he needed. And longer still.
He suddenly stood up. His chair scraped loudly on the floor. The sound drew the attention of some of the other diners but I didn’t care. My sole focus was Wyatt and what he needed.
Our hands broke apart with the move, the connection between us severed.
I followed his movement and tried to grab his hand again. He didn’t let me.
“I need to get home,” he said in the way of explanation, the words emotionless.
I didn’t know it then, but these were the last words he would speak to me in quite a while. Wyatt didn’t say anything again until we were at his house.
He didn’t look at me, opting to train his eyes over my shoulder. He just turned and walked out of the restaurant.
I made to go after him but the sight of the waiter reminded me of our bill. I paid the charges and ran after Wyatt.
Wyatt was waiting for me next to his car. In the empty parking lot, he was a desolate figure.
“I can drive,” I said softly when I caught up with him.
He held the keys in his hands, but he was shaking. I was afraid he was too upset to drive. I tried to take the keys from him, but he jerked away from me and shook his head.