Letting this woman go felt impossible. I couldn’t even imagine what that was going to feel like when it eventually happened, the hole she was going to leave when she got on the plane. An unknown time frame of when I’d see her again.

“Oh God, Caleb”—she gripped the back of my shirt, squeezing it in her fists—“am I making the biggest mistake of my life?”

I knew this decision must have been difficult. I also knew she had to go on this journey. I couldn’t be that selfish bastard who begged her to stay, not when she had already sacrificed so much out of guilt.

I ground my teeth together, convincing myself at the same time as I replied, “No.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Because as much as I need you here, they need you more.” I used all the strength I had left to push the boulder out of my fucking throat. “You have no idea how much talent you possess, how good you are at nursing, how you’re going to change their lives, like you did mine.” I stopped her tears when they began to fall again. “You’re going to fight for them, the same way you fought for me.”

“How did I get so fortunate to have you?”

“Whitney,” I said as loudly as I could, only above a whisper, “I’m the lucky one.”

Fifteen

Prior to the bombing, one month would have stood for thirty monotonous days, filled with meetings and mundane conversations, maybe a trip to a country far away. The month leading up to Whitney’s departure, I could break the time down into hours, remembering each one as it passed but all moving so quickly. I wanted to break the face of the clock just to make it stop ticking.

We spent as much time as we could together. Afternoons outside in the park, dinners on my balcony, nights in my bed. She told me about her fears, her inability of speaking Spanish, not having the proper tools and medicine to care for the patients, afraid she would lose them to the lack of resources. I confessed the challenges of the new rhythm I was trying to find at work, determining the space of the boundaries I was still setting, searching for the enjoyment that I’d felt in my twenties whenever I stepped off the elevator onto my floor.

One of us was being pulled by a west wind, the other by a strong east breeze, held together by a sea of emotions.