Becky's Gone

    Becky sat her suitcase next to the front door as Brandon turned off the television and fed the cat. The two made their way into the bedroom after all the lights were out, pulled back the covers, and got into bed.
    "Make sure the alarm is set so you get a good start," Brandon said.
    "It's set.  Six o'clock sharp," Becky replied.
    She was getting up early to drive back to her hometown in North Carolina for her best friend's wedding.  It was a six hour drive from her home in southern Illinois, where she'd lived with Brandon for six months.
    "I'm going to miss you while you're gone," Brandon said.
    "I'll miss you too," Becky said softly, "but it'll only be for three days."
    Brandon pulled her to him and kissed her softly.  Neither of them spoke; they just held each other in the quietness of the night and drifted off to sleep.

    At six a.m. the alarm clock cut through the stillness with it's shrill beeping.  Brandon rolled over to put his arm around Becky, sure that she'd turn the alarm off within moments.  His arm reached to her side of the bed, but instead of feeling her warm shoulder and soft blonde hair he instead felt only the cold mattress.  He looked around the room, squinting through the darkness that the rising sun had not yet found.  She wasn't in the room.  He looked towards the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom.  The door was open and the light was off.
    Yawning, he slapped the off button of the alarm and crawled from the bed.  He stumbled sleepily through the bedroom door and into the kitchen.  She wasn't there, nor was she in the livingroom of the small house.  Looking near the front door he saw that her suitcase was gone, and peering through the window he saw that her car was gone as well.
    "She must have woke up a little early and decided to get an early start," he said aloud to his cat sitting on the back of the couch.  He yawned again and ran his hand through the long fur of his pet.
    He stepped through the spare bedroom, en route to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  A strange feeling crawled over his skin as he passed through the room, which was used for storage and where he and Becky both kept their random things.  Something seemed to be missing.  He glanced quickly through the room and realized right away what was out of the ordinary: Becky's guitar was gone.
    "She never even plays that thing.  Why would she take it with her?"
    He shrugged the question off with another yawn and went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth.  He dried his mouth and went into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice.  As he grabbed the handle of the refrigerator door he noticed a folded piece of paper held to the door with a magnet.  He unfolded it and read what Becky wrote:

    "Brandon, i'm so sorry.  The truth is, i'm not going back home for my friend's wedding.  I'm going back for good.  I left a lot of people and things behind there that I didn't realize I'd miss so much.  Please take care of yourself and please don't hate me."

    He dropped the note to the floor.  His whole body wretched in a haze of pain and his heart sank.  He walked back into the livingroom and sat down on the couch.  RIght away everything seemed different to him.  His mind wrapped around every aspect of the house and his life that had been touched by her.  The glass she drank from the night before was still on the coffee table, and as Brandon looked at it everything around him became surreal.
  He stood with weak knees and went into the bedroom.  He opened the closet door and found that all of her clothes were gone; it was the same in the dresser drawers.  The weight of it all plowed down upon his shoulders.  The house was empty and only the ghost of memories floated around. 
    She wouldn't be there ever again to kiss him in the morning.  She would never be waiting by the front door to welcome him home.  He slid on his shoes and jacket and stepped outside into the frosty air.
    The morning was the same as always, but different.  The reality of her permanent absence was stronger than the rising sun.  The same early morning commuters and joggers passed by, but they were invisible to Brandon.  All that seemed real was that he and Becky would never again stand on that front porch and watch those same people drive or jog by. She would never again be laid across the couch reading a book when he came home from work.
    He saw something from the corner of his eye.  Looking at his jacket sleeve he noticed a blonde hair, long and thin like a spider web.  He pulled it from the sleeve and looked at it; a solemn reminder of her ever being there at all.  He let it go and it drifted into the breeze.  His eyes filled with tears, tears that would've been dried by her if they had been caused by anything other than her leaving.  He turned and walked back into the house, hurt and emptiness replacing the joy she had once given him.