Epilogue

I sit in my car, the last several weeks are a blur to me. Late nights, only a few hours of sleep between spans of days, pot after pot of coffee, and yet, I still did not wake up this morning feeling confident.

I lean my head on the steering wheel. I am so damn tired. Weeks of study, and torture to take this fucking test, only to walk out of the exam room feeling like I completely bombed.

I manage to close my eyes for seconds before my cellphone rings. My heartbeat quickens because I know it's Rylee, and I know he's going to want to know how the nursing exam went. He has been quizzing me on it for weeks. It doesn't help that the text books are thicker than my arm.

Hesitantly, I reach over for my phone, and answer it.

I don't even get a word in before Rylee's voice greets me, "So how'd it go?" There is no doubt he's excited for me to pass. I know he likes me, but I think he and his wife are ready for me to get a job and move out.

I don't blame them.

I can't bring myself to tell the truth, so instead, I lie, "I think it went well." Even the words taste funny in my mouth.

"You know it went well not think it did. Confidence, Ripley."

"Right." I grip the steering wheel tight in front of me. There is no part of me that is confident about what I just did.

I didn't plan on pursuing a career in nursing. I actually never wanted to insert myself into the medical world. I'd had enough of body parts and life's machinery growing up, watching my father work on life in the lab. It was never something I wanted to indulge myself in as an adult. In fact, it never crossed my mind.

Spending time with Rylee helped me realize that maybe art school wasn't my purpose. Maybe I was supposed to connect myself with my father in other ways. The human body is fascinating.

I garnered my high school diploma within a few months, and began to apply for different art schools. When I didn't get accepted in any of them, I shut down. I decided school wasn't for me, and that I should stay in my own lane. I ended up spending three years in Rylee's attic, painting for profit, and feeling sorry for myself.

My motivation for nursing was a surprise, not to everyone else, but to me, because it wasn't I who had pursued it first.

It was Ellie.

Ellie passed high school in weeks. Rylee had made him a false identity, and got him citizenship. It took several years for him to find a way to get the citizenship, but eventually, we found someone who could illegally produce the documents.

It's the best we could do.

On paper, Ellie was a Canadian immigrant. To get him a real citizenship he and I had to get married. At first I was ecstatic of the idea, but now I'm not too sure. What if he wanted to get married to someone else one day? Would he ever be bold enough to ask for a divorce? I never thought I'd ever fall in love with another man, but what if I do? Would I be able to ask him for a divorce? What if we grow up and grow apart?

My underlying fear of being distant from him emotionally, was slowly building a wall between us. I am the reason we barely speak anymore. My usual excuse to not talk to him is that I'm too busy studying, but, in reality, I have time, I just don't have spine.

Rylee pressed for me to come home, and I did. I drove the whole way with a growing rock of dread sitting in my chest. I tend to get more and more anxious to return to Rylee's the longer I'm away.

Today, my fear was at it's worst.

I pull up the driveway to the simple brick home, and sit for a long moment hyping myself to enter the house.

When I finally exit the vehicle, I take in the sounds of the neighborhood. The barking dog, the man mowing his front lawn, the house a couple doors down from ours, throwing a birthday party for their child. It is all so mundane, so innocent. It does nothing to calm me. I urge myself to enter the house, and when I do, Joyce greets me from the living room. She's sitting on the sofa, in her hands are crochet needles, and a large white and grey blanket that she's been working on for days.

Joyce and I are kind to one another, but we rarely have full conversations. We'll greet each other in passing, or say good morning while we gather around the coffee maker. Other than that, we are strangers sharing a home. She still won't even acknowledge Ellie. The horror stories she must have heard about him before he and I arrived must have instilled a fear in her, and I can't say that I blame her. Due to her own discomfort of him, he has moved to completely live in the shed. He sleeps and eats there. I think that is just another of the many reasons why we have been growing apart.

Rylee comes out of the kitchen with a smile, "Its about time you've arrived."

I feign intrigue. "What does that mean?"

"It means the ice cream is going to melt."

I frown, and follow him to the kitchen where a small circular cake sits on the counter, and a bowl of ice-cream beside it.

"I thought after months of study, you should celebrate."

I choke back my own humiliation by force out a small 'thank you.'

He and I both sit at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cake and ice cream and I can't even look at the sugar-filled meal without my stomach twisting in shame.

"Ellie's studying in the shed, if you'd like to go tell him the good news."

My hand holding a spoon-full of icing stopped midair at the mention of Ellie. I set the spoon back down and say with a steady voice, "He has no reason to study, he's brilliant."

When Ellie first proposed the idea of going to nursing school, I held back my doubt from him. Rylee encouraged that he at least try to go and get a normal life, but I was scared. He's never taken physical classes before. He's never been around so many people for hours a day in an enclosed space. That's why I said we should go together. Ellie seemed to like the idea of going together, but I found it distracting. I kept worrying about him, all while having to study for a career choice that I've barely considered.

It wasn't surprising to me that he was phenomenal at quick learning, and he mastered memorizing all things pertaining to the human body. After watching him practically succeed nursing, I know he's going to go further in his education. Ellie is smart enough to not only be a doctor, but be one of the best doctors.

I will not be following him.

I don't see Ellie working in a hospital, around people that he doesn't know all day long. I can't see him touching another's body without freaking out, but Ellie has done nothing but surprise me, time after time. I'm only just now learning that I can only sit back and watch. His life is something I can not, and don't want to control.

I know Rylee has noticed mine and Ellie's distancing lately. He tried to urge us to reconnect but I do not know how.

"Go speak to him." He says, his voice low as if trying not to frighten a child. I do not know why he has taken it upon himself to fix our relationship.

"I don't know what to say."

"Start off by telling him you'll be a certified nurse."

I grimace.

He leans back in his chair, "I don't understand it. You two were so close. It's as if within the last year a switch has flipped and you two are as awkward as a duo of middle-schoolers who dated for a week and now can't even look at each other without discomfort." He grunts, "What the hell happened?"

I push the bowl of cake away from me, "I am ashamed."

His gaze bore into mine, and it makes me want to hide, "Why?"

I give up pretending that I have no time for Ellie, and instead tell the truth. "Because I realize I have underestimated him. I always have. I am not proud of it. I see how he is succeeding in the world, and I realize it is my fault I held him back. I am not a helper to him, I am a burden."

Rylee thinks about this for a moment, and then nods, "It's funny you say that, because he told me something very similar, but about you."

This makes me look up from the table, our eyes meet, "What?"

"I asked him why you two don't talk anymore and he told me because he was holding you back. He decided it's best to keep his distance."

"That's bullshit."

"Now you can see my point of view." He frowns, "You're both acting like children, and I don't want this bullshit tension in my home."

I had no response, so I sat in my chair like a scolded child.

He stands, "Do what you think feels right." His voice is unreadable, and I don't get to see his face as he grabs my bowl and dumps the content in the trash.

Now I feel even worse.

Heaving a sigh, I force myself to stand and move through the back door. The shed doesn't look any different than the first day I laid eyes on it. I open the door, and shift through the tiny square space as I open the hatch on the floor.

I slowly step down the staircase, hoping Ellie wasn't there at all and that Rylee was mistaken.

But no, Ellie is sitting at a metal desk, with several text books in front of him. He looks up, expecting to see anyone else but me. When he realizes that it isn't Rylee, and that it is, in fact, me, his eyes widen in surprise, and I hate that he's surprised to see me. I hate that it's so uncommon now, that it isn't a common thought to him.

"Hi." I say awkwardly, as I hop off the final step.

"Hello, Ripley."

"Rylee told me you were studying down here."

"Yes."

He looks back down at his books, and begins to write in it. I frown, wondering if that was his way of telling me to leave.

I don't.

"I took the exam."

He doesn't look back up as he asks, "Did you do well?"

"No."

He pauses writing, "You think you did bad."

"I know I did." I lean up against a table, my eyes glued to the floor.

He's silent for a moment, and then says, "Take it again." as he proceeds to write some more.

For some reason, him pushing me away draws me closer, "I plan to."

"That is good."

Silence.

I move over to the desk he's working on, and sit on the edge of it. Instead of acknowledging me, he shifts his textbook closer to him, and continues writing.

"Did you eat?" I ask him, because he no longer sleeps in the attic, I don't know if he's taking care of himself or working sleep-deprived and hungry like I did for weeks.

"My body is not in textbooks, I do not have to eat as often as you."

"But you still have to."

"I will when I feel it is necessary."

"So when you're borderline starving?"

He drops his pencil on the desk, and glares up at me, "I am no child, Ripley. I think you've forgotten I have never been one."

I'm taken back by his quick temper, but I'm not surprised either. I know I'm bothering him, but I can't seem to make myself leave.

Instead of snapping back at him, I look away from him, my eyes stuck to my hands in my lap. "I still worry about you. I can't help it. I know I'm annoying but I don't think I could ever stop."

He is so silent that I force myself to take a look at his expression, hoping the irritation isn't so prominent in his features.

It's entirely gone.

Instead I am looking back into the eyes set in an expression I haven't seen since the moment I met him. A look of confusion and wonder overrides his face and I feel myself get lost in his gorgeous features. I miss him terribly.

We stare at each other for a long moment, and he speaks up, "I worry about you as well. I can not stop either." His hands drop into his lap, "I have spent the last many years working on my speech, my sentences, my grammar, and yet I can not put it in words."

A spark lights in my chest, and I cling to it. "It seems we are both feeling the same thing."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we should talk more."

"Yes. I think so."

"I can help you study, you know."

"You failed the exam, Ripley."

"You're smarter than me." I say matter-of-factly, "You'll pass whether you study or not."

"I do not agree."

"You've always had terrible discernment."

His head cocks to the side, "I think you mean yourself."

I grin at him, knowing he was one-hundred percent right. To my own surprise, he grins back, and I completely melt. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, "Sleep in the attic tonight."

His expression doesn't change, as if my words were more expected than unexpected. "Joyce does not like me."

"Then can I sleep here?" I draw out the words in a long question, hoping I wasn't intruding on his personal space.

He doesn't say anything and I assume the worst. I'm about to apologize for pushing myself into his life when we have so delicately distanced ourselves from each other and yet he stops me as he speaks up, "Stay here, many nights. Every night."

My heart beats quick. "I would like that."

His small grin is now a wide smile, something so rare to appear on his face. He stands up, and before I realize what's happening, he has his lips on mine. I mold myself into his arms, forgetting the last year had ever occurred.

When we break apart for air, I breathlessly claim, "We're never going to study if we stay down here."

"This is better than studying."

I grip him tighter, "I agree." I lean my head on his chest, and listen to the heart that my own father had put in his chest. It is like music to me, as I listen in complete silence. I suddenly do not care how many times I fail the nursing exam. The last year of stress and loneliness has garnered me nothing but more than extra problems and an abundance of self-doubt. I have felt as if something was missing and now, it is as if I had reconnected with the piece of me that had gone.

I close my eyes, and continue to listen to the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time since before my father died, I am at peace.