Undertow (Dragonfly)

by Moore, Leigh Talbert

  “It’s just… I have a little gift for Julian.” He’d been walking toward me, and now we were standing by my drawing table facing each other. “I don’t know what he likes, but I picked this up the other day.”

  I took the small package from him, my eyes growing warm. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  He nodded, and his eyes moved to my sketches. “They’re perfect as always. I wanted to let you know you captured the exact feel we were trying to get with the conference center. Not too stuffy and business-like. Professional, but still at the beach.”

  I smiled, looking down, pleased as always and glad to change the subject. “I guess I’ve known you guys long enough to be able to read your minds.”

  “Bryant said you were making this your last job with us.” I looked up and he was watching me, studying my face, his eyebrows pulled together. “I just wanted to know why. Did you get another offer? Are you moving? Do you need more money?”

  “No,” I shook my head, looking away again. “It’s nothing like that. I want to get back to fine art. All this corporate stuff… I’ve been doing interiors so long, I feel like I’m stifled, and well, that’s all. I’m not moving far. I was thinking Darplane or something like that.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad. I was afraid you were going to take Julian away. And, well, I know I don’t see him much, but I’d like to keep up with him. He’s a cute little guy.”

  “I wouldn’t take him away without telling you first,” I said quietly. “Giving you a chance to say goodbye.”

  We didn’t speak, but he leaned forward almost imperceptibly, inhaling. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other,” he said.

  Instantly, my skin was humming, and I knew it was time to go. “That’s for the best, I think.”

  “I miss how we would talk.” I could hear his smile, but I wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You said something about smell and memory once. For a while, I was afraid I’d forgotten the scent of your hair, and I thought if I could just get close enough one more time…”

  My eyes flickered to his face, and I saw him smiling sadly. It twisted the pain in my chest. “I’d better get back to the party,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He straightened up. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

  I nodded. “Merry Christmas.”

  He leaned in for a hug, and I should’ve run away. But I moved in the wrong direction. All the time that had passed, almost two years, yet the instant we touched it all came rushing back. He kissed my head, and I pulled him closer pressing my cheek to his chest. The warmth of his body filled the space in my heart that had ached for him for so long.

  He leaned back and gently cupped my face in his hands. So much tenderness in his eyes, it broke my heart. I couldn’t stop him as he bent down to kiss me gently. It would have been too cruel. I kissed him back. Our lips parted, and it was like a sip of cool water after a long day in the hot sun. Such a relief. He moved closer to kiss the side of my face, my neck and my hair. I tightened my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder and inhaling deeply.

  So sweet, so sad. I wished with everything in me there was a way to change things. And when I opened my eyes, there she was.

  Meg was standing motionless in the backlight of the hallway watching us.

  My eyes flew wide as I pushed Bill away. “Meg! It’s not what you think.”

  She didn’t move, and even in the backlight I could see the betrayal on her face, her body trembling. I took two steps toward her, and she backed away.

  “Meg…” I could barely whisper her name as I took another step. She turned and ran, and I stopped at the door, trying to catch my breath, reeling from the shock.

  Dec. 23, 19--

  My body is strangely calm as I write this. It’s almost like I knew, that day in March, when I documented the events that led us to this place, this day was coming.

  Just like on that day, I can look back at what happened and see every time I should’ve done something different. Each moment when I could’ve stopped how it ended.

  After Meg ran from me in Bill’s arms, I left the party and drove home. I decided to let Bill find his wife, and instead I would pack like I should’ve done after the ribbon cutting. I would get Julian and take him far, far away from here, and we would never come back as long as I lived.

  I thought maybe I would write her a letter and try to explain. Maybe I could tell her she never had to worry about seeing my sorry face again because I would never, never come back to ruin her life.

  She could go back to her palace and live with her prince and forget an evil witch had ever come and tried to destroy her life. She could pretend I never existed at all.

  She could hit me.

  Maybe she wanted to throw things at me. I would happily stand and let her hurl a piano at my head if it would make her feel better. Maybe she could hit me so hard I would forget him. Maybe there was a pill I could take that would stop me from touching the thing that wasn’t mine. The thing that belonged to the one friend I loved most in the world. My sister.

  Once Julian’s sitter was gone, I went to my bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. My little boy was sleeping, but I planned for us to leave first thing in the morning.

  That’s when I heard the car door slam.

  I went to the window and only one streetlight shone on the driveway. Meg was standing by her car waiting for me. She still wore the light blue skirt and white sweater she’d had on at the party, but the skirt had a tear. And it looked like there was blood on her sweater. I went out and stood in the driveway facing her. She was swaying side to side, almost like she was drunk as she stared me down, anger and hatred burning in her eyes. Occasionally, a shudder passed through her body.

  “You stole everything I loved.” Her voice was hoarse, and her face was streaked with tears.

  “Please come inside.” My voice was shaky.

  “That baby.” Her voice grew louder. “Who is the father?”

  “Meg, please.” I held out my trembling hand. “Please let’s just talk about it.”

  “WHO is the father?” she screamed.

  Tears were spilling down my cheeks now, and I could feel my insides ripping to shreds. “I just need to explain… I’m leaving. You don’t have to—”

  “There is NOTHING you can explain!”

  My head dropped as the tears took over. “Oh, god, Meg. Please. Please let me try. I’m so sorry—”

  “You took EVERYTHING I ever cared about,” she shrieked through the pain.

  My body wrenched with sobs. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  She staggered back against the car, opened the door and fumbled to get in.

  “NO!” I rushed forward to stop her. “You can’t drive!”

  “Don’t you TOUCH ME!” She screamed again and threw what turned out to be an empty scotch bottle with such force, it knocked me back and to the ground as it glanced off my temple. Blood instantly flowed into my eye, and sand flew in my face as her car shot out into the night.

  I rolled onto my hands and knees, watching as the tail lights disappeared into the darkness. “Meg!” I cried, my shoulders collapsing as my head dropped to my hands.

  When Gigi called the next morning, I wasn’t sure if she was going to curse my name or try and help me solve the problem. I wasn’t sure if Meg would confide in her mother something as horrible as what I’d done, and if she did, I wasn’t sure where I stood with Mrs. Weaver.

  I’d known her twenty years. She’d watched me grow up. She was a mature woman. Maybe she’d have some insight into how we could work through this problem. Or at least know some way I could fix it so Meg didn’t hate me. At least not forever.

  “Alexandra? It’s Gigi.”

  “Mrs. Weaver. I’m so sorry.”

  “What do you mean?” I heard her frown.

  She must not have known what had happened, I thought. “I guess I was still dreaming,” I said. “I’m sorry. What is it you need?”
>
  “I need you to come to my house,” she said in a strangely flat tone. “Do you think you could bring little Julian to my house this morning?”

  “Sure,” I said, unsure what this meant. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  I staggered to the bathroom and froze, stunned. The cut on my forehead looked dreadful, even though I’d done my best to tend to it. I probably needed stitches, but I hadn’t been able to go to the hospital last night. Julian was asleep, and it was too late to drag him out.

  I cleaned the cut and re-dressed it. I had some old butterfly bandages, and they helped close the gap. Then I slipped on my faded jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. I put Julian in one of his little fleece jogging suits and a little hat on his head and carried him to the car. He was almost two and getting heavy, but he still liked me to carry him. I liked holding his warm little body close to mine. His sweet face was the one bright spot in my otherwise disaster of a life.

  We arrived at Gigi’s in time for me to see several cars in the driveway, one of which was Bill’s. I did not want to see him today, but Mrs. Weaver was waiting for me. I went to the door, and she opened it looking solemn. I walked inside and Bill was sitting in a chair staring at the rug. He didn’t even look up when I entered the house. The twins were sitting on the floor talking to each other, and Will was trying to get on his emotionless daddy’s lap. The whole scene made me dizzy and slightly nauseated; something was very wrong here.

  “Alexandra, come in,” Meg’s mother said, taking my arm.

  “What’s going on? I don’t understand.” I lowered Julian to the carpet, and he instantly ran to where the twins sat.

  “I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news,” she continued. “Meg was in an accident last night.”

  I must’ve fainted because the next thing I remembered, I was lying on the couch with Mrs. Weaver attempting to give me a sip of brandy.

  “Lexy?” Her voice was a strained whisper. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry.” I held her arm. “Where’s Julian?”

  “He’s fine. He’s playing with the children upstairs. You fainted, and we didn’t want him afraid.”

  I couldn’t stop shaking. I was the one afraid now. “You said something about Meg in an accident. Is she okay?”

  There was a long pause as her mother looked down. I could tell now she had been crying, and as she looked at her hands, her tears started again. She whispered the words that stopped my heart. “Meg is no longer with us.”

  I rolled onto my side as the pain hit me again and again. I had no breath, and I curled into a tight ball, my hands over my face.

  “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Gigi left the room, but I couldn’t unclench. I simply wrapped both arms around my knees and squeezed, pressing my face into them.

  After several minutes, I felt a hand on my side and looked up. It was Bill. I slowly pulled myself to a sitting position, away from him, hugging my knees to my chest.

  “It’s my fault,” he said. “She would never have been in that car if it weren’t for me.”

  My throat was so tight, but I managed to say it. “Or me.”

  “I haven’t told her mother anything,” he continued. “I haven’t told anyone, but from the state of the house… Chuck could tell something was up.”

  I blinked up at him. “What was at the house?”

  “Smashed pictures. All your paintings were torn and thrown in the yard.”

  I clenched back into my knees again, and a fresh stream of tears slid down my cheeks.

  “She found the note,” he continued. “She knew about Julian. About us.”

  I nodded. “She told me.”

  His eyebrows pulled together as he studied my face. “You saw her again?”

  “She came to my house. She said she knew about Julian. She hated me, and I took everything she ever cared about.”

  He exhaled deeply, looking again at the carpet. “She would’ve forgiven you. One day.”

  “She would never have forgiven me. Not as long as I lived.” I was sure of that.

  After a few moments, he turned his palm over, studying it as he spoke. “Did she seem like she wanted to kill herself?”

  I shook my head. “She wanted to kill me. And I was ready to let her. She was very angry and very drunk. I tried to stop her, but she hit me in the head.”

  He glanced at my eyebrow. “You need stitches.”

  “I can’t take Julian to the hospital right now,” I said. “It’ll have to wait.”

  “Leave him here. I’ll take you.”

  Gigi agreed to watch Julian while Bill took me to the hospital. I lied and said I’d hit my head last night and didn’t realize how bad it was. I wasn’t sure if the police would be able to tell Meg had been at my house, but the last thing I wanted was for people to know she’d been drinking or the reason she was there.

  Bill took me to the emergency room in Fairview, and they led us back immediately. He sat with me while I waited for the numbing medicine to take effect.

  “How did it happen?” I asked. “What did the police say?”

  “Lightpole. Smashed into it at about 100 miles per hour.”

  “Oh, god.” I closed my eyes as fresh tears filled them. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. “Don’t. I can’t take comfort from you. It’s hard for me to even look at you.”

  He nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know.” I couldn’t think for the pain in my chest, the storm swirling in my brain. “I can’t go to that office again. I’m never going back there.”

  “You’ve got to do something. What about Julian?”

  “I’ve got enough money saved to last a little while. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Please let me help you.” His blue eyes were so full of pain, but there was no way I could ever allow myself to be near him again. We’d have to find comfort elsewhere.

  “I’ll let you know if Julian needs anything. For now, just leave us alone.”

  The doctor repaired my head and even gave me something to help me sleep, as if I could take it with a baby in the house. I collected Julian from Gigi’s and went home. He was tired from playing with the twins and Will, and I pulled him in the bed with me and closed my eyes.

  I hoped to sleep for a long, long time.

  * * *

  Anna – December

  She hadn’t written any more after that. I put the book down feeling weak and completely drained. Tears had filled my eyes over and over reading the pages, and I was sure it was because I knew what happened next.

  For the next seventeen years Alexandra LaSalle lived alone with her son, she stopped painting altogether, and she withdrew from society. She shut Mr. Kyser out, and it wasn’t until six months ago that Julian’s near-fatal car accident drove them back into each others’ arms. That was where I came into the story.

  From what I could tell, it was also the start of Mr. Kyser’s renewed efforts to coax her back to him, but her resistance was so strong. Even that day at her house when he’d practically begged her to tell Julian, when he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, she’d pushed him away.

  I looked up at my window and thought of Julian. He was so happy and carefree all the time. I wanted to call him and ask him to take me somewhere. I wanted to pull his arms around me and make him hold me close. I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted to be ready for us.

  I studied my phone several minutes before deciding to send him a text. Thinking of you, I typed.

  I didn’t have to wait long for his reply. Meet me at the beach?

  Sure, I replied.

  In less than ten minutes, we were walking side by side in the growing dusk. I still wore my jeans and tee with the black cardigan from earlier. He was similarly dressed, but in a black hoodie. Every few seconds the sky would light up with a lone firework. The city was preparing for their New Year’s Eve celebration, and apparently the producers were testing a few explosives early. We were walki
ng by the shore with only the street lights breaking the dark and the occasional glittery rocket.

  “I love nights like this.” Julian’s eyes twinkled in the light from the fireworks. He looked into the distance, and from where we stood, the glow of lights seemed centered over the ocean.

  I studied his face. What would Julian say if he knew what I’d just read? I wanted to tell him so much, but now I understood his mother’s fears. Maybe keeping this secret was the best thing after all.

  “What were you doing tonight?” I asked instead, sliding my bare feet through the cool sand as we walked. I’d left my flip flops back at the pier.

  “Welding, forging. Lyon’s Share asked for a few smaller pieces, and I’m trying to make something they can sell.”

  Lyon’s Share was a small, family-owned art gallery in downtown Newhope, and they had several of Julian’s pieces on display. They were even writing a recommendation for him for SCAD. He was definitely following in his mother’s footsteps—at least professionally.

  “Have you sold anything yet?” I glanced over at him, and he smiled.

  “Not yet, but once I do, we’re going on a real date.”

  “Julian.” I shook my head.

  “Right,” he nodded. “You’re still in mourning.”

  I punched his arm. “I’m not in mourning.”

  “Good, because that guy was a loser.”

  I bit my lip. “He wasn’t. It was just… complicated.”

  “Well, he was definitely stupid.” He slipped an arm across my shoulders and pulled me into his side. I hugged his waist and thought about what I’d read of his dad at his age. Good genes.

  “Tell me what you made,” I said as we walked.

  “Just generic stuff. Hummingbird feeder with vines and leaves. A dancer.”

  “A dancer?” That had me curious.

  “Like one of those ballerina pieces? Just trying to make stuff people like to buy.”

  “I’d love to see it,” I said.

  He stopped walking and faced me, our arms still around each other. “Then come over now.”