"I'm going to make a promise to you," he said. "When my life is good enough for you to be a part of it, I'll come find you. But I don't want you to wait around for me, because that might never happen."
I didn't like that promise, because it meant one of two things. Either he thought he might never make it out of the military alive, or he didn't think his life would ever be good enough for me.
His life was already good enough for me, but I nodded my head and forced a smile. "If you don't come back for me, I'll come for you. And it won't be pretty, Atlas Corrigan."
He laughed at my threat. "Well, it won't be too hard to find me. You know exactly where I'll be."
I smiled. "Where everything is better."
He smiled back. "In Boston."
And then he kissed me.
Ellen, I know you're an adult and know all about what comes next, but I still don't feel comfortable telling you what happened over those next couple of hours. Let's just say we both kissed a lot. We both laughed a lot. We both loved a lot. We both breathed a lot. A lot. And we both had to cover our mouths and be as quiet and still as we could so we wouldn't get caught.
When we were finished, he held me against him, skin to skin, hand to heart. He kissed me and looked straight in my eyes.
"I love you, Lily. Everything you are. I love you."
I know those words get thrown around a lot, especially by teenagers. A lot of times prematurely and without much merit. But when he said them to me, I knew he wasn't saying it like he was in love with me. It wasn't that kind of "I love you."
Imagine all the people you meet in your life. There are so many. They come in like waves, trickling in and out with the tide. Some waves are much bigger and make more of an impact than others. Sometimes the waves bring with them things from deep in the bottom of the sea and they leave those things tossed onto the shore. Imprints against the grains of sand that prove the waves had once been there, long after the tide recedes.
That was what Atlas was telling me when he said "I love you." He was letting me know that I was the biggest wave he'd ever come across. And I brought so much with me that my impressions would always be there, even when the tide rolled out.
After he said he loved me, he told me he had a birthday present for me. He pulled out a small brown bag. "It isn't much, but it's all I could afford."
I opened the bag and pulled out the best present I'd ever received. It was a magnet that said "Boston" on the top. At the bottom in tiny letters, it said "Where everything is better." I told him I would keep it forever, and every time I look at it I'll think of him.
When I started out this letter, I said my sixteenth birthday was one of the best days of my life. Because up until that second, it was.
It was the next few minutes that weren't.
Before Atlas had shown up that night, I wasn't expecting him, so I didn't think to lock my bedroom door. My father heard me in there talking to someone, and when he threw open my door and saw Atlas in bed with me, he was angrier than I'd ever seen him. And Atlas was at a disadvantage by not being prepared for what came next.
I'll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Being completely helpless as my father came down on him with a baseball bat. The sound of bones snapping was the only thing piercing through my screams.
I still don't know who called the police. I'm sure it was my mother, but it's been six months and we still haven't talked about that night. By the time the police got to my bedroom and pulled my father off of him, I didn't even recognize Atlas, he was covered in so much blood.
I was hysterical.
Hysterical.
Not only did they have to take Atlas away in an ambulance, they also had to call an ambulance for me because I couldn't breathe. It was the first and only panic attack I've ever had.
No one would tell me where he was or if he was even okay. My father wasn't even arrested for what he'd done. Word got out that Atlas had been staying in that old house and that he had been homeless. My father became revered for his heroic act--saving his little girl from the homeless boy who manipulated her into having sex with him.
My father said I'd shamed our whole family by giving the town something to gossip about. And let me tell you, they still gossip about it. I heard Katie on the bus today telling someone she tried to warn me about Atlas. She said she knew he was bad news from the moment she laid eyes on him. Which is crap. If Atlas had been on the bus with me, I probably would have kept my mouth shut and been mature about it like he tried to teach me to be. Instead, I was so angry, I turned around and told Katie she could go to hell. I told her Atlas was a better human than she'd ever be and if I ever heard her say one more bad thing about him, she'd regret it.
She just rolled her eyes and said, "Jesus, Lily. Did he brainwash you? He was a dirty, thieving homeless kid who was probably on drugs. He used you for food and sex and now you're defending him?"
She's lucky the bus stopped at my house right then. I grabbed my backpack and walked off the bus, then went inside and cried in my room for three hours straight. Now my head hurts, but I knew the only thing that would make me feel better is if I finally got it all out on paper. I've been avoiding writing this letter for six months now.
No offense, Ellen, but my head still hurts. So does my heart. Maybe even more right now than it did yesterday. This letter didn't help one damn bit.
I think I'm going to take a break from writing to you for a while. Writing to you reminds me of him, and it all hurts too much. Until he comes back for me, I'm just going to keep pretending to be okay. I'll keep pretending to swim, when really all I'm doing is floating. Barely keeping my head above water.
--Lily
I flip to the next page, but it's blank. That was the last time I ever wrote to Ellen.
I also never heard from Atlas again, and a huge part of me never blamed him. He almost died at the hands of my father. There's not much room for forgiveness there.
I knew he survived and that he was okay, because my curiosity has sometimes gotten the best of me over the years and I'd find what I could about him online. There wasn't much, though. Enough to let me know he'd survived and that he was in the military.
I still never got him out of my head, though. Time made things better, but sometimes I would see something that would remind me of him and it would put me in a funk. It wasn't until I was in college for a couple of years and dating someone else that I realized maybe Atlas wasn't supposed to be my whole life. Maybe he was only supposed to be a part of it.
Maybe love isn't something that comes full circle. It just ebbs and flows, in and out, just like the people in our lives.
On a particularly lonely night in college, I went alone to a tattoo studio and had a heart put in the spot where he used to kiss me. It's a tiny heart, about the size of a thumbprint, and it looks just like the heart he carved for me out of the oak tree. It's not fully closed at the top and I wonder if Atlas carved the heart like that on purpose. Because that's how my heart feels every time I think about him. It just feels like there's a little hole in it, letting out all the air.
After college I ended up moving to Boston, not necessarily because I was hoping to find him, but because I had to see for myself if Boston really was better. Plethora held nothing for me anyway, and I wanted to get as far away from my father as I could. Even though he was sick and could no longer hurt my mother, he still somehow made me want to escape the entire state of Maine, so that's exactly what I did.
Seeing Atlas in his restaurant for the first time filled me with so many emotions, I didn't know how to process them. I was glad to see that he was okay. I was happy that he looked healthy. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit heartbroken that he never tried to find me like he promised.
I love him. I still do and I always will. He was a huge wave that left a lot of imprints on my life, and I'll feel the weight of that love until I die. I've accepted that.
But things are different now. After today when he walked out of
my office, I thought long and hard about us. I think our lives are where they're supposed to be. I have Ryle. Atlas has his girlfriend. We both have the careers we'd always hoped for. Just because we didn't end up on the same wave, doesn't mean we aren't still a part of the same ocean.
Things with Ryle are still fairly new, but I feel that same depth with him that I used to feel with Atlas. He loves me just like Atlas did. And I know if Atlas had a chance to get to know him, he would be able to see that and he'd be happy for me.
Sometimes an unexpected wave comes along, sucks you up and refuses to spit you back out. Ryle is my unexpected tidal wave, and right now I'm skimming the beautiful surface.
Part Two
Chapter Eighteen
"Oh, God. I think I might throw up."
Ryle puts his thumb under my chin and tilts my face up to his. He grins at me. "You'll be fine. Stop freaking out."
I shake my hands out and bounce up and down inside the elevator. "I can't help it," I say. "Everything you and Allysa have told me about your mother makes me so nervous." My eyes widen and I bring my hands up to my mouth. "Oh, God, Ryle. What if she asks me questions about Jesus? I don't go to church. I mean, I read the Bible when I was younger, but I don't know answers to any Bible trivia questions."
He's really laughing now. He pulls me to him and kisses the side of my head. "She won't talk about Jesus. She already loves you, based on what I've told her. All you have to do is be you, Lily."
I start nodding. "Be me. Okay. I think I can pretend to be me for one evening. Right?"
The doors open and he walks me out of the elevator, toward Allysa's apartment. It's funny watching him knock, but I guess he technically doesn't live here anymore. Over the last few months, he just sort of slowly began staying with me. All of his clothes are at my apartment. His toiletries. Last week he even hung that ridiculous blurry photograph of me up in our bedroom, and it really felt official after that.
"Does she know we live together?" I ask him. "Is she okay with that? I mean, we aren't married. She goes to church every Sunday. Oh, no, Ryle! What if your mother thinks I'm a blasphemous whore?"
Ryle nudges his head toward the apartment door and I spin around to see his mother standing in the doorway, a layer of shock on her face.
"Mother," Ryle says. "Meet Lily. My blasphemous whore."
Oh dear God.
His mother reaches for me and pulls me in for a hug, and her laughter is everything I need to get me through this moment. "Lily!" she says, pushing me out to arm's length so she can get a good look at me. "Sweetie, I don't think you're a blasphemous whore. You're the angel I've been praying would land in Ryle's lap for the last ten years!"
She ushers us into the apartment. Ryle's father is the next to greet me with a hug. "No, definitely not a blasphemous whore," he says. "Not like Marshall here, who sank his teeth into my little girl when she was only seventeen." He glares back at Marshall, who is sitting on the couch.
Marshall laughs. "That's where you're wrong, Dr. Kincaid, because Allysa was the one who sank her teeth into me first. My teeth were in another girl who tasted like Cheetos and . . ."
Marshall doubles over when Allysa elbows him in the side.
And just like that, every single fear I had has vanished. They're perfect. They're normal. They say whore and laugh at Marshall's jokes.
I couldn't ask for anything better.
Three hours later, I'm lying on Allysa's bed with her. Their parents went to bed early, claiming jet lag. Ryle and Marshall are in the living room, watching sports. I have my hand on Allysa's stomach, waiting to feel the baby kick.
"Her feet are right here," she says, moving my hand over a few inches. "Give it a few seconds. She's really active tonight."
We remain quiet while we both wait for her to kick. When it happens, I squeal with laughter. "Oh my God! It's like an alien!"
Allysa holds her hands on her stomach, smiling. "These last two and a half months are going to be hell," she says. "I'm so ready to meet her."
"Me too. I can't wait to be an aunt."
"I can't wait for you and Ryle to have a baby," she says.
I fall onto my back and put my hands behind my bed. "I don't know if he wants any. We've never really talked about it."
"It doesn't matter if he doesn't want any," she says. "He will. He didn't want a relationship before you. He didn't want to get married before you, and I feel a proposal coming on any month now."
I prop my head up on my hand and face her. "We've barely been together six months. Pretty sure he wants to wait a lot longer than that."
I don't push things with Ryle when it comes to speeding things up in our relationship. Our lives are perfect how they are. We're too busy for a wedding anyway, so I don't mind if he wants to wait a lot longer.
"What about you?" Allysa presses. "Would you say yes if he proposed?"
I laugh. "Are you kidding me? Of course. I'd marry him tonight."
Allysa looks over my shoulder at her bedroom door. She purses her lips together and tries to hide her smile.
"He's standing in the doorway, isn't he?"
She nods.
"He heard me say that, didn't he?"
She nods again.
I roll onto my back and look at Ryle, propped up against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. I can't tell what he's thinking after hearing that. His expression is tight. His jaw is tight. His eyes are narrowed in my direction.
"Lily," he says with stoic composure. "I would marry the hell out of you."
His words make me smile the most embarrassing, widest smile, so I pull a pillow over my face. "Why, thank you, Ryle," I say, my words muffled by the pillow.
"That's really sweet," I hear Allysa say. "My brother is actually sweet."
The pillow is pulled away from me and Ryle is standing over me, holding it at his side. "Let's go."
My heart begins to beat faster. "Right now?"
He nods. "I took the weekend off because my parents are in town. You have people who can run your store for you. Let's go to Vegas and get married."
Allysa sits up on the bed. "You can't do that," she says. "Lily's a girl. She wants a real wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and shit."
Ryle looks back at me. "Do you want a real wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and shit?"
I think about it for a second.
"No."
The three of us are quiet for a moment, and then Allysa starts kicking her legs up and down on the bed, giddy with excitement. "They're getting married!" she yells. She rolls off the bed and rushes toward the living room. "Marshall, pack our bags! We're going to Vegas!"
Ryle reaches down and grabs my hand, pulling me to a stand. He's smiling, but there's no way I'm doing this unless I know for sure he wants it.
"Are you sure about this, Ryle?"
He runs his hands through my hair and pulls my face to his, brushing his lips against mine. "Naked truth," he whispers. "I'm so excited to be your husband, I could piss my damn pants."
Chapter Nineteen
"It's been six weeks Mom, you gotta get over it."
My mother sighs into the phone. "You're my only daughter. I can't help it if I've been dreaming about your wedding your whole life."
She still hasn't forgiven me, even though she was there. We called her right before Allysa booked our flights. We forced her out of bed, we forced Ryle's parents out of bed, and then we forced them all on a midnight flight to Vegas. She didn't try to talk me out of it because I'm sure she could tell that Ryle and I had made up our minds by the time she made it to the airport. But she hasn't let me forget it. She's been dreaming of a huge wedding and dress shopping and cake tasting since the day I was born.
I kick my feet up on the couch. "How about I make it up to you?" I say to her. "What if, whenever we decide to have a baby, I promise to do it the natural way and not buy one in Vegas?"
My mom laughs. Then she sighs. "As long as you give me grandchildren someday, I guess I can
get over it."
Ryle and I talked about kids on the flight to Vegas. I wanted to make sure that possibility was open for discussion in our future before I made a commitment to spend the rest of my life with him. He said it was definitely open for discussion. Then we cleared the air about a lot of other things that might cause problems down the road. I told him I wanted separate checking accounts, but since he makes more money than me, he has to buy me lots of presents all the time to keep me happy. He agreed. He made me promise him I'd never become vegan. That was a simple promise. I love cheese too much. I told him we had to start some kind of charity, or at least donate to the ones Marshall and Allysa like. He said he already does, and that made me want to marry him even sooner. He made me promise to vote. He said I was allowed to vote Democratic, Republican, or Independent, as long as I made sure to vote. We shook on it.
By the time we landed in Vegas, we were completely on the same page.
I hear the front door unlocking so I flip onto my back. "Gotta go," I say to my mother. "Ryle just got home." He closes the door behind him and then I grin and say, "Wait. Let me rephrase that, Mom. My husband just got home."
My mother laughs and tells me goodbye. I hang up with her and toss my phone aside. I bring my arm up above my head and rest it lazily against the arm of the couch. Then I prop my leg over the back of it, letting my skirt slide down my thighs and pool at my waist. Ryle drags his eyes up my body, grinning as he makes his way over to me. He drops to his knees on the couch and slowly crawls up my body.
"How's my wife?" he whispers, planting kisses all around my mouth. He presses himself between my legs and I let my head fall back as he kisses down my neck.
This is the life.
We both work almost every day. He works twice as many hours as I do and he only gets home before I'm in bed two or three nights a week. But the nights we actually do get to spend together, I tend to want him to spend those nights buried deep inside me.
He doesn't complain.
He finds a spot on my neck and he claims it, kissing it so hard it hurts. "Ouch."
He lowers himself on top of me and mutters into my neck. "I'm giving you a hickey. Don't move."
It Ends With Us Page 18