Free The Book of Someday by Dianne Dixon

ever have done that would deserve letting yourself die for it?”
    His gaze is open, direct; and in it Micah is catching a glimpse of unvarnished truth. This is a good and honest man whose concern for her is genuine. There’s not one shred of judgment or revulsion in what he has said. And Micah, craving the release that comes with confession, tells him something she has never told another living soul. She names, precisely, the evil that she has done.
    It leaves him stunned.
    For several minutes neither of them speaks, neither of them moves. The stillness is so complete that Micah can hear the beating of her own heart and the pulsing of blood in her veins.
    When the phone rings, it shatters the silence like a scream. When Micah answers it, everything she thinks is real is being made unreal.
    ***
    Such a profound mistake—with such simple roots.
    A rushed text message: 189 Pane Street inadvertently typed as 189 Pine Street.
    A disabled man in his forties, an MS patient, expecting a noon visit from his new caseworker; a woman he’s never met.
    Micah’s arrival on Pine Street at eleven forty-five.
    While Jason—the man Micah has come to see—is three miles away. Waiting for her on Pane Street.
    ***
    In the background of the photo that Micah has just been handed there’s what appears to be a church picnic, or perhaps a neighborhood block party. In the foreground is a moderately pretty woman with an unremarkable haircut and a slightly lopsided smile. On either side of the woman—leaning against her affectionately—are a pair of extraordinarily handsome teenage boys.
    Micah is taking a last look at the photo then handing it back to Jason, while he’s saying: “Wendy. Scott. And Coulter. Those three are my world.”
    The expression in Jason’s eyes suggests that he’s a truly happy man. “It’s amazing how good our life is right now. Wendy’s just opened a cupcake business, she’s a terrific baker. And the boys are doing great. Growing like weeds. Scott’s a sophomore…unbelievable soccer player. Coulter, our basketball star, starts high school next year. God, I wish you weren’t leaving this afternoon. I’d love for you to come by and meet everybody. Have dinner with us, or maybe…”
    Micah isn’t really focusing on what Jason is suggesting. For most of the hour that she’s been with him in this coffee shop, on Pane Street, she’s had trouble keeping track of the conversation. She has been too upset and confused. Now she’s beginning to understand why.
    In spite of how fit and healthy he is, Jason has turned out to be more of a shock, more of a disappointment, than the frail, frayed man she’d encountered on Pine Street. It’s dawning on Micah that that man, because he was crippled and suffering, was, in a strange way, what she had expected Jason to be—what on some perverse level she’d needed him to be.
    This actual Jason is thriving and completely content. And it’s almost as if Micah has been blown apart by that.
    “I’m considering a run for city council,” he’s saying. “I think I can make a difference, do some good.” Then he pauses and asks: “Does that sound too corny? What do you think?”
    Micah’s head is spinning… I don’t know what to think. I came here expecting you to say how hard it was to survive without me all these years. I was planning to ask you to forgive me. For walking out on you and breaking something sacred—something that never should’ve been broken. I thought the hurt from that would be permanent. It never even occurred to me that it could be temporary—that it could heal, and go away. Jason, you used to say I’d marked you, made you mine. I thought that mark was indelible. I honestly don’t understand…how could what you had with me be replaced by things as trivial as cupcakes and soccer games?
    Micah is startled to see that Jason is settling the bill, getting ready to leave. He’s planting a brotherly peck on her cheek and scooting out of his chair.