| Saying Goodbye <Part 1> | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 28 2017, 03:50 AM (212 Views) | |
| Hunter Werth | Mar 28 2017, 03:50 AM Post #1 |
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March - 1 - 2017 Philadelphia, Penn Delaney Lukas walks out his door to take her final box from his house to her car. But as she stops out of the door frame Hunter grabs hold of her arm. He pulls her back again before giving her a final kiss. He sighs. “I’m sorry Delly. I’m just not ready for this. I thought I was, but I’m not.” He she shrugs her shoulders looking at the ground and then back up at him. She musters as much of a smile as her ailing heart would let her. “I understand Hunter. But this isn’t the end for us.” Hunter nods his head leaning against the door frame as she walks down his porch steps towards her truck. She places the box in the back seat before closing the door. She turn to him leaning against the door frame and blows him one final kiss. Though he tries to hide his feelings as best as he can, a single tear escapes rolling down his cheek as she gets into the drivers seat and begins heading back to Georgetown. “I really am an idiot. Lexi continues to hurt me long after she’s gone.” Hunter watches Delaney’s truck as it hits the end of the street, stopping at the four way stop. She then turns down the one way street headed for the highway and Hunter pulls himself off the door frame escaping back inside his new quiet house as he closes the door. March - 9 - 2017 New Orleans, Louisiana After a few days away to have a little fun visiting a new ‘friend’ in Whitley Mercer. Hunter is now standing in line for security to board his flight back home. He fumbles through his backpack pulling it around front as it hangs from one arm. He grabs his boarding pass and puts it in his right hand. He digs around a little bit longer before finding his wallet. He pulls his driver’s license out but with it comes a picture that falls to the ground. He leans down picking it up. As he flips it over it’s a picture of Delaney. As he sees her face a feeling of regret for the fun he’d had the last two days hits him hard in the pit of his stomach. “Sir?” Hunter snaps back to the moment putting the picture in his shirt pocket. He shows the man his ID and Boarding pass before smiling at the TSA attendant. “Sorry about that.” “Mhmm.” She let him through so he walked forward setting his bag in one bin and his laptop, phone, shoes, etc in another bin. He pulled the picture from his shirt pocket placing it in the bin with his wallet as he pushed things through the scanner. As he walked through the body scanner putting his hands in the air the man behind the x-ray machine looked over the items in his bin. As Hunter walked over to pick up his stuff the man made mention of the picture. “Don’t lose that one, not only is it a great picture, you lose it and she might be mad at you.” The man laughed at what he thought was an endearing joke. “Yeah, that’s probably true.” Hunter scooped up his things before reaching for his wallet. He grabbed his boarding pass, drivers license, and picture putting them into his wallet. But he paused before pushing the picture back down, looking at Delaney’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not replacing you. I’m just having fun, I need to know what I want.” The man behind him looked at him funny and Hunter pushed the picture into his wallet when he realized the man had heard him. Hunter got his belt and shoes on before moving on towards his gate, leaving behind the fun trip he’d spontaneously taken that week. March - 18 - 2017 Philadelphia, Penn Hunter walks around his living room holding a draft glass of beer in his hand. He takes a sip as he walks up to a stack of boxes. As he pops the top on the box, he sets the beer down on another box nearby. He then brings his other hand forward pulling the four fold top open to reveal everything inside the box. He pulls out a catcher’s baseball mitt and sets it down on the coffee table next to him. He then pulls out a program from a Arizona State Sun Devils baseball game from 2012. He thumbs through it until he finds the day’ lineup as he rolls his index down to the name of the Sun Devil batting eighth that day. His own name is sitting there next to his season stats. He shakes his head. “Oh, I see. This is going to be one of THOSE boxes. Great.” He looks over at his stats. Not abysmal, but not stellar. He held at that moment a batting average of .244 with 14 home runs and 27 runs batted in. He smiled, knowing that that season was one of his better in his whole career when it concluded. He held the program in one hand pulling out a baseball cap covered in dust. “I forgot how much dirt there was everywhere in Phoenix.” Hunter puts the hat up to his nose and smells it. “Yup, smells like home. I almost miss all the haboobs.” Hunter puts down his baseball stuff on another box. He looks down in the box pushing aside his baseball memorabilia, hoping to leave it in the box. He loved baseball, but seeing his college gear reminded him of the way his career ended. Who ended it. And what could have been, but never was. He pushes things aside getting deeper into the box before something caught his eye. A sigh left with his breath. He stood frozen over the box for a moment looking down inside it. When he’d finally moved again, his hand slowly moved down towards the depth of the box where it grasped onto something. He slowly pulled it up, passing by his baseball gear before revealing itself to be a folded pamphlet. He held it up near his face for a long moment as he stared at it. A tear formed on the corner of his eye and he didn’t bother trying to hold it back. No one was there, no one would see. A break from looking at the pamphlet broke as he looked over at his fireplace. His eyes scanned up from where they landed to the mantle where an ornately decorated urn sat centered between pictures of Hunter and his mother, Carol. At this point, the single tear from earlier had transformed to several, falling from both his eyes now. “Oh mom, why did you have to go?” Hunter pulled the pamphlet close to his chest, holding it with both hands. Once turned and pressed against his chest, a picture of his mother could be seen on the front of the paper. With the words “Carol Margaret Thatcher, 1962 - 2012” written underneath the picture. He released his grip on the funeral program as he went over to his couch across from the fireplace sitting down. He reached over and grabbed his beer off the nearby box taking a large sample. “I promise, I didn’t forget…” He opens the program and a folded in half handwritten letter slid out from inside. He sat it on his knee pulling it open to look it over once again. But he didn’t need the reminder, he knew every word by heart. His mother wanted her ashes to be spread across the Painted Desert in Arizona. This was her dying wish of her son. Writing it out from her hospital bed in one of her last nights at the hospital. Hunter only was given the letter by a nurse that had found it in her room when cleaning it after her passing. He never understood why she hadn't given him the letter herself. But perhaps she knew that would only make the reality of what was happening harder for Hunter. And him getting to see and read her handwriting after she was gone would be more of a comfort than a burden while she was alive. But he knew it was from her heart. She always talked about the beauty of the painted desert. How she felt that even though most thought of the red rocks of Sedona or the large gorges of the Grand Canyon when they thought of Arizona, the painted desert always reminded her of the beauty the only state she had ever called home held. “This is the year mom. I will do what you asked. I just haven’t been ready to leave you yet. I’m sorry.” He folded the letter back up, placing it back inside the funeral program. He took another sip of his drink before setting it back down on the box. He stood to his feet walking towards the mantle. “Five years you’ve waited mom. You’ll make the Painted Desert even more beautiful than it is.” He walked over setting the program down next to her urn. His hands then rested on the edge of the mantle as he placed his forehead gently against the side of the glass surface of the urn. His tears began to flow again as he closed his eyes standing in place. |
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