I'm Not Going Back to Charleston

“You stay with us until you can fix up things for going back to Charleston.”

His words startled me, made me pause by the large wooden door. He would allow me to stay in his house after everything I’ve done? I stared at him for a moment, my blue eyes meeting his sparkling, emerald orbs. I was about to question him, but then I remembered that he had no knowledge of the deeds I performed.

It happened a year ago. Ted was tired, yet he was content to be sitting outside, looking at the birds as they flew about to their nests. He knew it was going to happen and I knew it was going to happen. He asked me to do it, and I couldn’t say no. He and I were close, as we spent a lot of our time together in those last few months. That’s why I made sure it was easy. I gave him his pills as usual, except this time I gave him far too many. He didn’t protest.

“I’m not going back to Charleston.”

Going to the place where Ted died would be much harder to face than the man with whom I was just speaking moments ago, his son.

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