CHAPTER FIVE

We returned to the Fort De Soto campground on Friday afternoon, and when we arrived at the Brucellis’ campsite, I immediately knew something was wrong. Normally, swimsuits hung from a clothesline, bicycles were chained to sabal palms, and the picnic table was stacked with books, magazines, and a propane lantern. But now, aside from the RV parked there, the site looked deserted.

I looked at Jeff and crinkled my forehead. “What’s going on?”

Jeff’s mom answered my question moments later when she emerged from the RV toting a bulging plastic trash bag.

“Your grandmother’s taken a turn for the worse,” she told Jeff. “She’s in the hospital, and my dad’s an emotional wreck. He needs us there for support.”

Jeff’s voice had a tremble in it when he spoke. “We’re going back to Peru?”

His mom nodded. “We’ll hit the road in less than an hour, so you need to put your things in order. There’s no time to waste.”

Had someone just punched me in the stomach? My vision blurred and my knees wobbled so badly I thought I might fall down.

Jeff’s going to leave me?

While Jeff’s mom carried the trash bag to a disposal bin, the two of us stood there looking at each other in disbelief. Jeff clenched and unclenched his fingers at his hips while his chest rose and fell with his breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning to his mom. “I have belongings at Jakub’s, I’ll come back in just a bit.”

“Fine, but make it quick. We need to beat rush hour traffic in Tampa.”

I drove the station wagon down the crushed shell road, and neither of us spoke. I think we both felt too stunned to say anything coherent. The moment we entered my house, we headed for my room. Then we lay in each other’s arms on the bed with tears rolling down our cheeks.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Jeff said, sniffling. “I thought we had another seven weeks together.”

“Why don’t you stay here with us? My dad wouldn’t mind, and you could take the bus up to Peru in late August.”

Jeff puckered one side of his face and shook his head. “We’re in family crisis mode, and my parents will want me with them—it’s how things work with us.”

We lay there holding each other for fifteen minutes or so before Jeff spoke again.

“Promise you won’t forget me, even though I’m a thousand miles away from you.”

“I will always love you,” I said. “You can count on that.”

*

I won’t ever forget the moment I watched the Brucellis drive off in their RV with the muffler growling and the tires grinding on the campground road. I leaned against the Jeep’s fender with my arms crossed on my chest, feeling as though the life had drained from my body. I barely had the energy to breathe.

Even though the day was warm and humid, a shiver ran through me.

Jeff was gone, and how could that be? Within a day or so he’d live a thousand miles away from me. No more afternoon sex in my bedroom, no more fishing excursions, and no more meals to enjoy with the Brucellis at their campsite.

When I returned to my empty house, I strode to my room and collapsed onto the bed. I wept like a five-year-old, and my sobs echoed off the pine-paneled walls. I hadn’t felt so lonely since the day my mom had disappeared, eleven years before.

Would I always lose the people I loved?

I thought of a loaded .38 revolver my dad kept in his bureau, and for a fleeting moment I considered sticking the barrel in my mouth and pulling the trigger. At least if I were dead, I wouldn’t feel the agonizing pain gnawing at my stomach. I wouldn’t have to endure the incessant pounding in my head.

But no.

I’d have to deal with the misery and loneliness, just as I had when Mom left us. So, now, I did what I had back then to assuage my pain. I shed my clothes and climbed into my bed. I pulled the bedcovers over my head and lay in darkness.

I listened to my nightstand clock tick.