by C R Riley
After my birth mother got clean, I was returned to her, I was six months old. Then taken away at nine months when she was found high by my social worker. This pattern repeated itself until I was eighteen months, when my mother finally OD on meth. She landed in the same hospital where my foster father happened to work. He pronounced my birth mother and then made a very important decision that changed my life and his that day.
At age three I official became a member of the Cross family. My new father at that same time became the newest State Senator for the Chicago area. Years later he became a United States Senator for Illinois, and as you may have guessed, one of his biggest platforms has to deal with foster care and how it is failing so many children. My new family, Sam and Eleanor Cross, changed the course of my life and loved me like no one else ever could.
Growing up in the home of a senator and pediatric surgeon had its own challenges. It was a privileged life that I never really was all that comfortable with. I was a timid girl who struggled in social settings. Eventually I was diagnosed with ADHD, and while they couldn’t prove it was a result of all the drugs my mother did while pregnant with me, everyone knew they didn’t help. My parents were great and did their best to help me learn to cope. I was only asked to attend functions for short periods and allowed to leave when I needed to. Best of all my parents didn’t expose my issues to the world to profit from or benefit my father’s career. Instead they aimed to keep it under wraps until I was old enough to decide it was an important topic to discuss. Because as I got older issues were easier for me to control, although I still remained reticent and preferred being solitary.
When I left for college and opted to live on campus, it sort of surprised my parents. I realized I needed to get out from under their wings and learn to survive in uncomfortable situations. Which is also when I met this laid-back simple guy Randal Booker.
Randal was from a blue-collar single-family home. His mother worked in a convenient store in his Fuller Park neighborhood—which if you are not familiar with Chicago is rough. He lived his entire life like mine started out. No one came to rescue him from it like they had me though. And while his mother wasn’t a drug addict, she wasn’t living the life of a saint either. Alcohol had been her choice of drug and when she got drunk, she got mean. Took it out on Randal and his little brother Billy. Foster care was never offered to him, because no one was around to really notice how that would probably have benefited both boys. He however did have places they could retreat when conditions got rough, but even those homes weren’t ideal. Lucky for me he was a smart guy and knew the only way out for him and his little brother was for him to step up and make a change, which he was well on his way of accomplishing.
As you can imagine, my parents weren’t really big fans of Randal Booker at first. They didn’t give him a chance really after learning his background, until he graduated Valedictorian and secured a job at one of the best architectural firms in the city. That’s when they decide that maybe Randal wasn’t hoping to ride the coattails of the wealthy senator’s daughter just so he can get out of a bad situation. They came to understand that he was doing his best to change his stars by himself and just happened to have my support while he did his best.
That being said, the thing I always liked about Randal is the fact that he isn’t like everyone else I grew up around. He isn’t politically correct all the time. Doesn’t care what others think about him and lives life to the fullest always. He takes each day as it comes and strives to make the best of it; I assume something he learned growing up.
And no Randal and I are no more than just friends. He has always just been a guy I felt extremely comfortable around. I never worried about having to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I could blurt out gibberish that sometimes slipped into my overly crowded brain and knew he would just let it be. Sometimes he laughed because the nonsense I verbalized was at times laughable, but he never once made me feel like an outcast or was weird about it. We were completely comfortable with each other, and that was something I had never really experienced until him.
Okay so now you have a better understanding of who I am, who we are even.
Tonight, we are celebrating.
I just got accepted into the master’s program at UIC for architecture. I never really thought much of the field until I met Randal and he opened my eyes to it. My original plan was to get a degree in something like art and then teach it to young children. Because art had always been my outlet when I needed to get my head on straight, it was the one thing I could focus on completely where I could just let my mind wander. However, after meeting Randal, I soon fell in love with the art of buildings, really old buildings.
School up until that point had always been a struggle for me. Once I discovered my obsession with architecture, and all the wonderful fascinations surrounding it, school suddenly became easier for me. And I had Randal to thank for that, which is why when I found out I had been accepted into the program I called him immediately.
So back to me staring at the man in my kitchen with a shocked expression on my face, mostly because I don’t know what to think right now. I told you that we were never romantically involved. He has dated a lot of women since he graduated three years ago, and all of those women were gorgeous and well educated.
So why did he just kiss me like no one else ever has before?
I’m not completely antisocial. I’ve had my share of boyfriends in both high school and college. The last guy I dated was probably my most serious relationship. We met during senior seminar—you know when the college brings all the seniors together to help them transition from college life into the real world. Teaching them interview skills, talking about job fairs, encourages everyone to use the career center to review resumes and conducted mock interviews. I met him then and we started dating. Dated for six months until he decided to take things a little too far one night. After that I ended the relationship with him rather quickly, because I just wasn’t ready to go there. Not because I am some really religious person who believes one should only do that once married. I mean I guess that may have played into it a little bit, but not completely. I just wasn’t feeling it with him and afterwards I knew he wasn’t for me.
Randal is shaking his head and smiling like I have never seen him smile before. “Dang Larkin. I always knew that if I ever got the courage to do that it would completely ruin me.”
“Ruin you? What in the world were you thinking kissing me like that?” I blink a few times. “Why? I mean, we’ve known each other for three years, and you’ve never even tried to do … that?” I wave my hand in a circle knowing I must look ridiculous.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you Miss Cross since the day you ran into me and spilled my hot coffee all over my senior project.” A flash of something I don’t recognize moves across his face. “I should have done that a long time ago.”
Randal drops his head and I swear he appears to be sad. Why does he look sad? Does he think I won’t let it happen again? Because I can tell you right now, I will most defiantly let it happen again. He can kiss me like that as many times as he pleases.
“Why now?” I find myself asking.
When Randal glances up again, I don’t like what I perceive in his eyes. Pain that warns me something is desperately wrong. So much pain behind his eyes that I am truly afraid of what he will reveal. A quick shake of his head forces that pain behind a mask he brings in front of it. Then he takes a solid step my way and I can’t seem to move. He grabs my shoulders and stares into my eyes for a really long time.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him finally, and my voice is so much quieter than it ever has been before.
“I’m so proud of you Larkin. Never forget that.” He repositions his hands to grip my neck and steady my head. “You know I love you right?”
I laugh lightly. It’s not like he’s never told me that before. Randal has said that several times in fact over the years. Most of the time it was done so in a light friendly kind of way. You know, li
ke when you are laughing really hard about something and you look at the other person and say, ‘God I love you. You are seriously disturbed and I just love that about you.’ Or like when you are just hanging out and as you’re walking out the door you holler, ‘Love you. Talk to you later babe.’
So, I laugh and nod. “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m an idiot. I should have told you a long time ago how I felt. Too late now though huh.”
I don’t get the impression he is really telling me this, or asking me actually. I get the feeling he is having a private conversation with himself. He’s been doing that a lot lately, saying things that don’t make a lot of since.
“Why?” I grab his face. “Talk to me.”
“I wish I could. I wish I had done so many things differently since that first day you showed up in my life Larkin. Promise me something.” He rubs his nose against mine. “Promise me that you will never give up on your dream. No matter what happens you’ll finish school and be one of the best dang architects there ever was. Live the dream. Love deeply when you find it. Never lose that person inside of you. Promise me that.”
“Why do I get the feeling …” He covers my mouth with his hand.
“Promise me that you will live life to its fullest. That no matter what happens, you won’t let it change who you are. I need to know that you will be okay.” Randal leans down and kisses my lips gently this time. “I’m sorry Larkin. Please know that if there were any other way, I’d grab a hold of it with both hands. There’s not and so now I just need to know that you and Billy will be okay. Look after each other for me.”
“What are you talking about? Are you going somewhere? What’s going on Randal? You’ve been weird lately and frankly I don’t like it.” I tell him.
“You are going to be fine.” He smiles and kisses my forehead again. “I have to go. I love you Larkin. I love you so much that it pains me to think that this is going to hurt you.” Randal backs away and grabs his jacket.
“What is going to hurt me?” I snatch his arm and feel him tense.
But when he spins around to face me there is a smile pasted on his lips. “Nothing babe, just me talking it all out in my head again. You know how I get sometimes. Congrats again. I’m so dang proud of you.” He leans in one more time and kisses my cheek. “So proud.”
I walk him to the door and watch him walk to the stairwell. “Why do I get the suspicion you aren’t telling me everything?”
A sad smile takes over his face and I swear I see his eyes fill up with tears. “Because I’m not. I love you.”
And like that he is gone.
I clean up my kitchen and try to piece it all together but can’t. So, after I’m done, I take a shower and get ready for bed.
My text tone dings on my nightstand as I am brushing my teeth. It’s from Randal.
Randal: You Larkin Moon Cross are one awesome chic.
Larkin: Where are you?
Randal: No. No that is for me to know.
Larkin: Are you drunk?
I have only known Randal to get drunk one other time in the three years I have known him. That was when his little brother Billy wretched his car and ended up in the ICU. Luckily Billy made a full recovery and has since gotten his life straightened out. He will graduate from NEIU in the spring with a degree in business.
Randal: Most defiantly drunk.
Larkin: I’m coming to get you. Where are you?
Randal: Nope. Not telling.
I try to call him but he isn’t picking up.
I text several more times except he isn’t responding to them either.
An hour goes by before I hear anything from him, and by then I have worked myself up into full panic mode. So, when my phone rings, I answer it frantic.
“Tell me where you are.”
“Now is that any way to talk to a man on the verge.” He slurs out slowly. “I just called to tell you goodbye. It’s been nice knowing you Larkin. Time for me to go meet my maker.”
I start to respond but the loud blast of a horn steals the breath out of me. The line goes dead and I drop down to my knees and scream into my phone, realizing what just happened.
My fears are confirmed a few hours later when I get a call from Billy informing me that Randal stepped off the L-train platform into an oncoming train. It was believed that he was so drunk that he stumbled off of it by accident.
I however know differently, after having talked to him right before it happened. That is also confirmed a few days later when the autopsy report is released, it reveals that Randal had terminal brain cancer. That report, along with the letters his brother and I received several days later, painted a very vivid picture for us.
Randal had been given a death sentence, so instead of suffering he chose another ending. Made his peace with everyone important to him. Explained that he didn’t want to force us to watch him suffer while he became an invalid incapable of taking care of himself. Hoped that we understood why he had done it that way—which we didn’t, or maybe we did but we were just selfish, wanted more time with him.
After we picked our broken bodies up off the floor, we both did what we knew would make Randal proud. Billy finished school and I went on to get my master’s in architecture. We lived our lives one day at a time, and tried our best to move past the loss of a great man, who had always encouraged us to do our best.
The one thing I could never do after that was to allow myself to forget what might have been. I compared every relationship I had after that to the one I had with Randal. I wasn’t sure why we never became more than friends, wondered often if we had if that would have made him want to stay longer. Hence the reason I became afraid of letting anyone in like I had let him in. I wasn’t convinced I could live through that kind of pain again, so I kept things casual and kept people at a great distance.
My work became my focus and gave me all the commitments I believed I needed and wanted. Or at least that is how I made it through each day and night without completely falling apart, knowing that my life would never be what it could have been with Randal.
Chapter 4
Five Years Later
Larkin
I’ve worked for Manchester International for three years now. They hired me right before I completed my masters to work in their historical department. That department was quickly growing and they were looking for someone with my brand of passion.
One of my projects during my studies had captured the attention of Zach Greene, a mid-level partner in that department. He came to listen to my presentation and then approached me afterwards. Later that day took me to meet Timothy Manchester, Senior Partner. Three days later I was offered a job and enlightened that it wouldn’t take me long to make my way up in the ranks with more ideas like the ones they’d seen.
They had been truthful about that. I had taken all their jabber as a way to get me to join the company, and not as serious as I guess I should have. Of course, I accepted the position with them, because they had one of the best historical departments around. They took on projects all over the world and I was thrilled to find out where that just might take me.
Chicago has always been my home. The only place I have ever lived. However, after my friend Randal died it had never felt quite the same again. Working for a company that would send me away from the city that was a constant reminder of him was ideal.
It took me two years to finally get assigned to a project like that. I recently returned from Mexico City where I restored a crumbling cathedral that had been neglected for way too long. It took us almost a year to complete the project—eleven months and fourteen days to be exact. It was one of the most challenging projects I’ve had the privileged of being a part of and I loved every minute of it. Mainly because the entire time I was there my thoughts rarely drifted to Randal. Everywhere I looked didn’t trigger some memory that made me feel sad and lost on the inside. I was able to finally live my day-to-day life in the mom
ent while I appreciated the beauty of my surroundings.
The one thing that had gone completely amiss during that time was what I had allowed to materialize with one of the other architects, Chandler Sloan. On the anniversary of Randal’s death, it always was a tough time for me, as I am sure you can imagine. Chandler and I have been working together since I started. He is the one that urged me to join him on the Mexico City project. So maybe deep down I felt some kind of obligation to him. We didn’t really know anyone else in the city so when he invited me out for drinks on that particular evening, and because I was feeling down, I accepted. I mean it isn’t like I never went out with him for drinks, except that night I should have known better than to set myself up for disaster.
Now what you should probably distinguish about Chandler is that he is one of those types. You know the kind that believes he is all that and a slice of pie. And I’m not going to lie he is rather pleasing to look at. He has light blond hair that he keeps cut just long enough to flop around. His eyes are this light blue tint that are rarity, so one might tend to stare at them because they are so different. And while his smile isn’t perfect, it does the job when he flashes it at you in that way. I’ve watched him use it many of times to charm several women, so it wasn’t as if I didn’t know what type of guy he was.
However, that night I had been feeling extremely lonely so I let him kiss me. I mean like really kiss me. He wanted more; thankfully I was able to fend him off by claiming that since we weren’t actually dating it wasn’t happening. Not that it would have happened even if by chance we had been dating, which never happened so there was that.
The next seven months after that misguided night were filled with me constantly avoiding him, brushing him off, or making plans with anyone but him. Ensuring I’d have a ligament excuse to not have to spend time outside of work with him again. Not that it stopped Chandler from trying his darndest to get me to give him a chance and let him show me what we could have together.