Free Goodbye to You by Aj Matthews

become with his every touch pumps, slides, and shivers before collapsing atop my own Celtic god.

She’s sleeping so peacefully. I hate to wake her, but I am starving since we skipped lunch. I ease my arm out from under her head, her silky hair tickling my arm as I slide it out.
    Success.
    My feet slap the cold tile floor, and I bend to retrieve my discarded boxers.
    Wow. Her face, softened in sleep, had been so expressive when I touched her, tasted her. The last few days have been crazy.
    Not the way I’d expected my last days in Key West to be. I’m not complaining. These had been the best days ever.
    I’m young, with my whole life ahead of me, but I’ll never forget this.
    Never forget her.
    I fish my phone out of the pocket of my discarded wet shorts and order a pizza from Brenda’s around the corner, then grab a dry shirt and shorts. Leaving a note on the pillow, I walk out and ease down the narrow stairs, slick with leaves blown free by the storm. The streets are mostly clear of people, but a few chickens had come out of hiding, pecking at the dark purple berries mottling the sidewalk. The rain hasn’t cooled the temperature. Instead, the heat and rain combine to create an outdoor sauna, which intensifies the pungent scent of orchids wafting from our neighbor’s backyard garden.
    Thea complains the humidity wreaks havoc on her hair, but I love it loose and wild. I enjoyed the way it tickled my legs when she arched her head back when she was riding me.
    It sucks she’s leaving tomorrow afternoon. I wish I’d met her sooner on her trip. Two weeks with Thea would have been heaven.
    I’ll settle for one more night even though it’s not enough.
    I whistle, something I’m not inclined to do, and it’s a happy song.
    Brenda’s is empty of customers, but Jack, the delivery driver, is stacking boxes to throw in the car. Lots of delivery orders tonight. Storm clouds still loom in the distance, and folks don’t want to get stuck out in the rain.
    Brenda is working the counter. “Come to help out? Busy night with deliveries. I could use an extra set of wheels.”
    My first job in high school was here, and I laugh. “My days of driving pies are done, thanks. Just here to get my own.”
    She peeks into the oven. “Cheeseburger pizza?”
    “Yep.”
    She opens the door, and the heat from the oven behind the counter blasts my face. Even with the window AC unit running, the store is scorching.
    I pay with a twenty, and though the pie is fourteen dollars, I stuff the change into the tip jar. Local businesses like Brenda’s struggled during the national downturn, and I want to do what I can to help her get back on her feet.
    I walk out and whistle the happy song again as I head back home.
    I take the steps two at a time and head into the apartment. “Hello?” I call out.
    No answer.
    The bed’s empty, the note where I left it, and the bathroom vacant.
    I check the floor.
    Her clothes are gone, and her purse too.
    Crap.
    She left. A vise crushes my chest.
    I grab my phone from my pocket, text her, and wait.
    After a few minutes, still no response.
    Impatient, I dial her number, pacing, walking outside. I can’t stand still.
    From the landing of the stairs, I swear I hear her phone ringing from across the narrow strip of yard separating the garage and house, but no one answers.
    I hang up, and the ringing stops. I sprint down the stairs and dart up the back porch to the airy kitchen of the main house.
    Mom and Thea sit in the homey, sunshine-yellow kitchen, sharing tea and perusing old photos at the farmhouse table.
    Thea smiles sheepishly, her face glowing red. What’s that all about?
    “Hey, honey!” Mom gets up and grabs a soda from the fridge for me since I’m not big on tea. She points at the chair next to her and takes her seat. “Sit. I’m getting acquainted with your new friend. Your father told me all about her last night. She’s lovelier than he described.”
    She takes a sip of her tea, glancing