The Memory of Us: A Standalone Soulmate Romance

by Claire Raye

“Thank you,” I whisper, my words swallowed by the sound of the waves. I rest my hand on Elliot’s cheek before kissing him again, but nothing about our kiss grows needy or desperate. The kiss is slow, our tongues entwining gently, his hands cupping my face as we separate breathlessly.

  “Come on,” Elliot says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. I can hear the happiness in his voice and I know he’s smiling.

  Elliot jogs down the beach, me trailing behind him giggling as I stumble trying to navigate the beach in the dark.

  He stops suddenly taking me in his arms and swinging me around. My feet leave the sand as he turns in a circle making me laugh like crazy.

  My face is buried in his neck, my arms cinched tightly around his shoulders as he laughs and says, “Nora, you make me want to know everything about you. Tell me everything. Your deepest fears, your biggest regrets; I want it all.”

  He smells of coconut and the ocean, a smell that will always be unique to him. I press my nose to his neck, breathing deeply and trying to remember what he smells like, what it feels like to be in his arms, what it feels like to be this happy. It’s a feeling I want to hold onto forever.

  Elliot sets me down and races up the ramp to a lifeguard tower. I stand confused, looking up at the tower when he reappears with a few blankets in his arms.

  “Do you want to sleep out under the stars?” he asks and while my first concern is safety, I toss the thought aside and respond, “Yes.” Not even questioning how he knew there’d be blankets in that tower or why it was open.

  My father would kill me if he knew what I was doing right now. I’m supposed to be the sensible one. Fuck that, why does Alice get to have all the fun?

  We hit up a convenient store just a few yards shy of the beach. Picking up snacks, drinks, a pack of gum and somehow scoring a fifth of Jack before returning to the beach.

  Elliot lays one of the blankets out on the sand and we lie next to each other, cuddling close and covering ourselves with the other blanket.

  We pass the bottle of Jack back and forth, each of us taking a deep swallow until I feel myself grow lightheaded.

  We chat mindlessly about everything, except what normal teenagers would discuss. Left out of the conversation is where we’ll attend college in the fall and friends and high school stories. They all seem inconsequential. Only sharing our ages, Elliot being nineteen and me eighteen.

  All the light has gone from the beach along with the people, only a few left walking dogs or packing up. It’s well after midnight and we polish off the last of the alcohol, both of us buzzed, me more than Elliot. Giggling and joking as he talks about what it would be like to live off the grid in Alaska and me poking him in the side wondering how a boy raised at the beach would fare in that environment.

  “You’ll never make it,” I say, hiccupping at the end, making Elliot let out a deep, throaty laugh. It’s sexy as hell; everything about him is. It’s his natural way that attracted me to him, the ease he has with himself.

  “And you would?” he says straddling my hips and pinning my arms above my head. “You just admitted to me you’re afraid of the dark.”

  Having his body looming over mine sends my mind into a tailspin, I can’t think straight, and when he leans in close, his lips brushing my neck as he whispers, “Don’t worry, I’d protect you,” I’m done for.

  What happens next is completely predictable, at least in my mind it is. I lean up and kiss him hard, my hands immediately going for the button on his shorts. My fuzzy brain is trying to process exactly what is happening as my body reacts before I have time to consider what I’m about to do.

  I’ve said no, plenty of times, even to my most recent boyfriend back home, who eventually dumped my ass because I wouldn’t put out. It wasn’t like I was a prude. I’ve had sex with a few guys, but here in the darkness of this beach with Elliot, it comes down to one simple thing. Desire.

  Before I can shove Elliot’s shorts down his hips, he reaches into his back pocket, removing his wallet along with a condom. I push his shorts down, my skirt pushed up around my waist, as I hear the rasp of the foil packet being torn open.

  At this point, too far gone to turn back, he still asks, “Are you sure?”

  Knowing he needs a response, needing him to know this isn’t a drunken mistake that I will regret in an hour, I look up at him, our eyes locking, our breathing remarkably steady and although I know the risks of what I’m about to do, I hear myself breathe out the word, “Yes.”

  So there is no mistake about my decision, I say it again.

  “Yes,” I moan out, my hands tangled in his hair.

  Fueled by lust and probably alcohol, I know I’m making a choice that can’t be taken back and in this moment, I don’t ever want to.

  I feel him slowly enter me and pull out, sliding in gently once again, our breathing growing labored and our mouths exploring each other. All of it coming together beautifully and simply and so right that I know my life will be changed forever.

  Afterward, we lay together, our arms wrapped around each other, the sound of the waves and the salty sea air mixed with sweat and sex, a lullaby that soothes us to nearly sleeping.

  “Why does it feel this way?” I ask, my voice nearly inaudible over the sound of the ocean. “This intense.”

  Without pausing to think Elliot replies with, “Because I was meant to find you.” My eyes fall closed, a loose smile on my mouth. His words are far more perfect than anything that has ever been said to me. And as the stillness of the night covers us, Elliot whispers, “Good night, sweet girl.” But then among the rushing waves and as sleep tugs at me, I feel like I hear Elliot say, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Nora.”

  I dream of a life with Elliot; a quiet existence of comforting silences and the peace of having someone love you.

  I wake the next morning, early, the sun just beginning to rise as Elliot presses his lips to my neck. Soft, tiny kisses easing me from sleep. The murmur of his voice soothing me.

  “Don’t wake up. Sleep, my beautiful girl,” he says, whispering in my ear. His fingers trail down my cheek making my eyes close. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get coffee.”

  His lips touch mine in the briefest of kisses, before I mutter back, “No. Stay, please.”

  “I promise, I’ll be right back. I can’t live without you, Nora.”

  His words make me smile and I drift off to sleep once again.

  I wake only a few minutes later to the sound of my cell phone ringing. It takes a few seconds for me to register exactly what it is. My head is clouded with the haze of sleep and a slight hangover. I fish through my purse, pulling it out, I answer with a groggy, “Hello.”

  “Where the fuck are you!?” Alice screams down the phone.

  “Alice…” I start, but she cuts me off.

  “Get your fucking ass back here. Now! Your flight leaves in an hour.”

  “Fuck!” I yell out in response, scrambling to my feet as I grab my shoes and run toward the road.

  “Dad is going to fucking kill me if you miss your flight. I can’t believe you were so irresponsible.”

  I can’t even respond to her. If this isn’t the pot calling the kettle black as she continues to berate me for behavior that is completely normal for her.

  I hang up on her profanity-laced tirade as I run to the convenience store where Elliot and I were last night. I can’t leave without telling him goodbye.

  But he isn’t there. I panic knowing Alice is waiting for me and my flight is leaving, but I can’t just leave Elliot without an explanation.

  I run back to the blankets waiting for a few minutes, pacing the beach and calling his name, but I get nothing.

  I can’t wait any longer. My phone ringing obsessively in my purse, the sound unnerving as the minutes tick by. And when my phone rings for the fifth time, I unwillingly leave the beach, running for Alice’s apartment.

  Unable to think straight, the tears begin to fall until I’m sobbing, deep, chest c
onstricting sobs.

  I should’ve left him a note. I should have missed my flight. I should have told Alice to fuck off. So many missed opportunities.

  And as I board my plane, I wonder if Elliot is hurting as much as I am. A deep stabbing pain in my chest, my heart aching as if it’s literally broken.

  It never crossed my mind to tell him my last name or to ask his. Everything about him had my mind in a lustful, cloudy haze. His voice, his smell, the way he made me feel; it all made me weak, but in such a needy, desperate way. And maybe if I had just pulled it together for a second I wouldn’t have lost something that could’ve been amazing.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day - New York City

  I roll over, groaning out loud at the sound of my alarm cutting through the wonderful silence of the morning. And although waking up is on my list of most hated things, I still somehow have hope that today will be the morning I’ve been waiting twelve years for.

  I pull my phone from the nightstand, turning off the alarm and immediately opening my email. It’s the same routine every morning. Turn off the alarm, check my email, check Facebook and hope that today is the day I will find that message. The one I’ve been waiting to receive for over a decade. All the other things that come through are insignificant. I don’t care about a twenty percent off sale at the Gap or the countless status updates from my “friends” about their cats, kids, food or significant others.

  But every day, just like the one before it, there is nothing of importance.

  My head falls back against the pillow, my eyes watching the ceiling fan as it whirs above my head, dizzying and mindless.

  The anniversary of the day I met Elliot is nearing and it will be twelve years since that life-changing moment happened. In three days, I will have been searching for him for twelve years. Twelve long years and I’m still not any closer to finding him.

  I look down at my arm and run my fingers over his words.

  write what you love tattooed on my arm in all lowercase letters, in his handwriting; a reminder of what I lost.

  The first thing I did when I got home after that trip to San Diego was head into Alice’s favorite tattoo shop and have the tattoo artist ink Elliot’s words onto my arm. The ink from the pen was fading, but still visible enough to use and I was grateful for the fact that I didn’t have time to shower before rushing to catch my plane.

  A permanent reminder of Elliot, of what we had and of my dreams of becoming a writer, all of it shared with him in the quiet stillness of that night on the beach, but all of it lost in an instant.

  I often wonder if absence warps the mind, makes us remember things differently, romanticizes all the beauty and exaggerates the pain felt; maybe it even minimizes all the defects that were probably present all along. I never dwell on this thought very long, because what I feel is real. A connection to Elliot, a need to find him, to right what I was unable to at the time and know if what I felt between us in that moment was really an undying love brought upon by fate.

  I climb out of bed and trudge into the kitchen, starting my day the way I do every morning with a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal.

  When I hit the living room, I find Alice asleep on my couch, her face soft and peaceful, her hair a disastrous mess of ratty brown curls spilling out over my expensive Pottery Barn throw pillows. I don’t know why she insists on sleeping on my couch when I have a perfectly nice extra bedroom available for her to use. Sometimes I think she just likes to push my buttons. Knowing how much I hate it when she crashes on the couch, but she still does it.

  She must have come in last night after I went to bed. Her life is still a cluttered mess of bad decisions and far too much drama, and although I’m wary of her choices and her lifestyle, she is my sister.

  I settle myself at the table as Alice begins to stir, stretching her arms above her head and groaning as she rubs at her eyes. Mascara from the night before smears across her face and I cringe at the thought of it tainting my perfectly clean pillows.

  “So how many days until you start your stupid quest again?” she asks, her voice hoarse as if she’d spent the night sucking back too much alcohol and at least a pack of cigarettes.

  “Three,” I answer back with a sharp edge to my voice. I know where she’s heading with this.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time you give up this shit? It’s been fucking forever and I’m beginning to think you’re crazy,” she says, flopping down in the chair next to me reeking of smoke and hard liquor.

  “Listen, you sleep on my couch, you eat my food, you’ve been married twice and you’re only thirty-two years old. I’m not sure you’re the person to be giving advice,” I respond, completely annoyed with Alice already and it’s only six-thirty in the morning.

  “Settle down, judgy wudgy,” Alice says, holding her hands up as if she meant no harm. “I thought maybe I could help you this time.”

  I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open as I stare at her.

  “What?” I ask, wondering if I’ve even heard her correctly.

  The only time Alice helped me with my search was when I called her the minute my plane landed and begged her to go back to the frat house and find out if anyone knew Elliot.

  It was a ten-minute argument with her, where she told me she couldn’t go back there because she’d slept with a guy who lived there and she never wanted to see him again. Eventually she caved and I’m still not sure why. She’s always thought the whole idea of falling for someone after just meeting them was a joke.

  She called me an hour later to tell me no one knew Elliot, and I wasn’t all that surprised. The party was huge and for all I know he came with friends or happened upon it while walking by. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but I had to try.

  “I want to help you,” she says firmly, adding a quick nod of her head like I should be proud of her for not being her usual selfish self.

  “You lost your job, didn’t you?” I ask and Alice rolls her eyes.

  “Why do you always think I have ulterior motives?”

  I give her a sideways glance, but she looks away and nods her head. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I figure there’s no point in lecturing her on responsibility. It’s never worked in the past.

  “Guess you’re not sleeping with your boss anymore either then, which explains why you’re shacked up on my couch,” I say, matter-of-factly. There’s no animosity in my words, this is just what it is. “How long are you staying?”

  “How long can I stay?” Alice asks, but something about her words seems almost embarrassed.

  “As long as you need,” I say, suddenly feeling sorry for her and the fact that she still can’t seem to get her life together. “But can you please sleep in my guest room? You’re ruining my pillows.”

  “Thanks,” she responds, giving a small nod of her head, but I can tell by the tone in her voice that even her lifestyle is starting to wear thin.

  We sit silently for a few minutes before Alice turns to me and smiles weakly.

  “Do you write what you love?” she asks me, looking down at my arm.

  “What do you think?” I ask back.

  Alice shakes her head knowing this is not where I expected to find myself. It wasn’t like I didn’t try to become a writer. I did, but it proved far more difficult than I thought and I eventually took a job writing descriptions of items for a well known website and catalog company that sells high-end cookware. I’m still there today.

  “Sometimes life gets in the way of the things you love and you have no other option but to give in,” I tell her, my voice sullen.

  “Is that why you’re still trying to find him?” she asks, but this time there’s no insinuation in her tone, no judgment.

  “Maybe.”

  “I really do want to help you,” Alice adds and I smile at her, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Discussing it out loud, not just the situation with Elliot but also my job has made my life sound far more depressing than it should be.

&nbs
p; “Why?”

  “Because everyone needs something to believe in and right now, I have nothing,” she says and it breaks my heart.

  “That’s not true, Alice,” I say, trying to ease her fears and my own, but I know it’s a lie.

  “It is true. You said it yourself, I’m thirty-two years old, sleeping on your couch; I can’t keep a job and I’ve had a string of bad marriages. Sounds like a stellar life so far.” She stops and runs her hand through her hair, looking at me, she shakes her head and says, “I want to help you because I feel like if you’ve held out this long, there’s still some hope out there.”

  “Or I’ve lost my fucking mind.”

  The three days go by in a blink and before I know it, Alice and I are on our way out of New York heading back to Boston.

  “So how does this work?” she asks, already bothering me with her obsessive need to touch everything in my car. Her hands paw at the radio and flip the vents open and close as the air conditioning blasts too high for my liking but any lower causes complaints from Alice.

  “How does what work?” I question back, wondering what the hell she’s even referring to. With Alice only god knows what’s going on in her head.

  “This whole operation Find Elliot thing you’ve got going on,” she says casually, shrugging her shoulders. “You’ve never really told me what you do during this time.”

  I guess I’ve never really discussed it with anyone. I worry about the judgment it will bring when I explain the ludicrousness of what I’m doing, what I’ve been doing for almost twelve years. Or maybe I just realize how embarrassing it is to admit it out loud.

  For all I know Elliot has long since forgotten me. He’s probably married with a beautiful wife and kids, living in the suburbs of San Diego enjoying his life. All things I probably should have done myself.

  It’s not like I didn’t have options. I was engaged once, several years ago to a perfectly acceptable man, but he was just that, acceptable. And I felt like I was not only lying to him, but to myself by marrying him knowing I was still harboring feelings for Elliot.