by K. S. Thomas
“You didn’t screw anything up. You saved someone’s life. She would have died without you. Tony told me.”
He doesn’t answer me this time. I don’t think he can. His gaze is streaming with every thought racing through his mind. I catch bits of them as they fly by. He feels guilty. He chose someone else’s life over his own. Over us. In that split second he made that decision to save her, he risked his life. His future with me. Meeting his own daughter. And he knows I know that now. Thing is, I always knew he would.
That’s why he does this. Selfish ass as he may seem to many, he has never once thought twice about running into the flames for someone else. He’s never left someone behind when things were about to blow. Never waited for back up if waiting meant safety for him and risk of dying for others.
When it comes to his work, Penn holds himself to the highest of standards. Because he knows firsthand what happens when someone makes a mistake or gets sloppy. People die.
So he does the job he doesn’t trust others to do. To get there first. To find those who have gotten lost in the shuffle. To save the ‘Bo’s. And I can’t fault him for that because he’s saved Bo a thousand times over.
Penn
I’m not ready to leave her. Whatever strength I need to conjure up to withstand the agony throbbing in every inch of my body, I’ll do it. I’m not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow. I’ll just keep breathing. Nothing can stop me doing that. Not even the searing pain in my lungs every time I try to fill them.
Nothing they’ve given me for pain has even managed to dull the ache, but having her here, it’s like she’s my beacon of light, drawing me out of the smoke and the darkness and keeping me safe until I can find my way on my own again.
So, I ignore the doctors and the hustle and bustle of their movements around me. I tune out the machines beeping and screeching, reminding everyone of every ragged breath and every irregular heartbeat that passes through me. I forget about the anesthesiologist who showed up to cover for Trix and the fact that he’s about to take the one thing that’s easing my pain away. Even in exchange for numb oblivion, the cost of giving up Trix to drift off and go there seems too high.
She’s smiling down at me, stroking my hair softly. It’s what she would be doing if we were home right now. Lying in our own bed. Together. My head would be in her lap, her hand in my hair, gently combing her fingers through it over and over again while she went about watching me talk to her belly. I wonder if she knows all the things I say to our Peanut. Wonder if she catches every syllable as it rolls over my lips. Sometimes I press my mouth to her skin and whisper things. Secrets between myself and Marianna. Things she’ll learn for herself one day.
About life and love.
About her mother.
How she saved me. How she’s the strongest and most selfless person I know. How she’s funny, often when she least intends to be. How breathtakingly beautiful she is. And how I knew falling in love with her would be the most tragic mistake I ever made, and how it wound up making me happier than I ever could have dreamed.
All moments and memories I’ve shared with my daughter.
I want more. And the sting of that knowledge seizes my chest and begins to squeeze tighter and tighter. For one brief second, my eyes flutter shut and when I open them again, Trix isn’t smiling anymore. She’s not even looking at me. Instead her attention is on the monitors, the only thing giving her clear, precise answers about my condition in this entire room.
“Pressure is dropping. We need to get him into surgery. Now!” the doctor at my left shouts and goes straight to work trying to intubate me a second time while the nurse to my right and the anesthesiologist behind her jump into action as well.
I try to say no, to explain that I won’t sacrifice any of my time with her until I absolutely have to, but I start coughing again before I can get the words out and he proceeds with the procedure. Parts of my body have gone numb and my vision is narrowing, blackness caging in and blocking out most of the room. I want to believe the meds are finally working but I can’t. Because unlike Trix, I can hear every word being uttered around us. I’ve been privy to every assessment of my wounds and had the added benefit of understanding every medical term tossed out among the professionals while they work. It’s not good. And it’s not getting better.
The parts of me that aren’t numb hurt so much I want to scream, only I can’t because there’s a tube down my throat now. As soon as the doctor is done, Trix is back in front of me instantly. Her expression has changed. She’s no longer smiling, but the way she peers down at me with more love in her than any man could ever hope to receive, it calms me.
“It’s okay, Penn.” She leans down and presses her lips to my forehead. Then again to the corner of my mouth. “I’m going to be okay.” Tears drip from her eyes and land in my hair. “I’m not going to ask you to stay for me. If you decide you’re ready to let go, if the pain is too much...then I’m ready too. I promise. I can do this. I can let you go. If that’s what you need. Because I need to give you what you need. It’s not in me not to. Because I love you.”
And it’s those words and that face I take with me when I go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Summer That Follows...
Trix
These woods seem eerie somehow even in daylight. Maybe because I remember what they were like in the dark, rain pouring down on us while lighting shattered the sky into pieces. It seems wrong having been the only one to dig up the hole this year. Of all the things we thought might change during the decade the capsule spent buried in the ground, the possibility of three turning into one was never among them.
With the hole at my feet, a shovel by my side and the time capsule in my hands, I sit down and dust off the caked on dirt still covering the small box. My hands are shaky as I start to work the combination lock and it takes me several tries before I get it open. When I finally do, it’s with such a jolt, most of the contents spill into my lap. Letters mostly. The ones we wrote to one another. Some odd knick-knacks tumble out as well, along with Bo’s favorite comic book. It’s a collector’s edition, still wrapped in cellophane. I hold it to my chest and close my eyes, remembering the countless times I found him sitting somewhere, nose buried in a comic book and Fanta and Sun Chips right within his reach.
Two of the smaller items were mine. Earrings my mother gave me for graduation. My ears weren’t even pierced back then. Wasn’t until my twenty-first birthday that I went and had it done. Mutilating my own body by my own free will seemed like a solid way to celebrate adulthood. Anyway, it seemed symbolic somehow of our relationship, her giving me those, and so, they’d wound up in the time capsule. I suppose I thought they’d serve as some sort of a marker in the future. Something to measure our progress by. Since we haven’t spoken in three years, I’m not sure we’ve made any. Or maybe we have and simply accepting that we’ll never be close is the ultimate destination we were always meant to arrive at.
When I check the capsule, the only thing left inside is an old photograph. There’s no frame and the fragile paper has attached itself to the bottom of the box. Carefully, I lift the corners and peel it up. As soon as the sunlight shines down on her lovely face, I know who she is. Marianna. Penn’s mother. So much of her wound up in her son and I wonder if she ever even knew it.
I take a deep breath, doing my best to force down the debilitating rock in my throat and the tears stinging my eyes. I know it’s pointless. Only a fool would expect to be able to come here...to face all of this...and not cry. And I’ve gotten good at crying. Much better than I was. Now, I don’t wait until the emotions are big enough to take me out. I let them out in intervals. My shrink loves this. She thinks it’s healthier.
With trembling hands, I lift the first envelope addressed to me. It’s from Bo. I can tell just by his handwriting.
The envelope is sealed shut and then covered again with tape. Bo was always thorough that way. It almost hurts when I have to rip the paper just to open it.
Trix,
It’s weird, right? Writing a letter to a future you when I’ve never once written a letter to the present you...or the past you? I’ve never needed to. You’ve always been right there. And it scares me to think that maybe one day you won’t be. Maybe one day writing letters won’t seem so weird.
If that’s the case, I hope I get better at it.
But...I’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to get serious. Time to have a heart to heart with the future you. Time to tell you some things...things, I hope you’ve figured out by now, but in case you haven’t, here goes:
You’re the better twin. I know you think it’s me. It’s not. And thinking it’s me may be the only real mistake you’ve ever made in life. You came into this world having to work ten times as hard as everyone else to be heard. To be understood, and to understand others. And you did. You put in that work. At first, because it was expected of you. Then, somewhere along the way, you expected it from yourself. And you didn’t just apply this work ethic to the areas in your life where you faced setbacks, you set that standard for everything you did. Ten times harder than the average person. That’s how you work on everything you approach in life. Even the things that come easy to you.
You’re the better twin, Trix. It’s time you knew.
Penn can be a real asshole. You already know this. You also know, that aside from you, he’s my best friend in the entire world. What you don’t know, is that he’s in love with you. He won’t admit it, but I know that he is. I can tell. Even when he’s busy parading around one girl after the next, I know he’s only doing it to fight the inevitable. The thing that scares him most. Turning out like his dad, broken and half the man he was before he lost the love of his life.
Love. It’s the thing that keeps Penn up at night, cold sweats and all.
But fear can’t undo what’s already done.
You are the last girl he is ever going to love, Trix. And because he’s Penn, he hates you for it. Because you were also the first. He already knows there’ll never be any getting over you...
Lastly, I don’t think I’m coming back here once I leave. I’ve had this feeling for some time now, that I’ve done all I have to do here. Something else is out there, calling me. I’m going to see what it is...and I hope you’ll write to me.
Bo.
“For the record, you still suck at writing. I haven’t a gotten a letter since you wrote this one.” I mean for the joke to make me feel better. For one brief instant, it does.
I fold the letter back up, if only to have something to focus on, some sort of action to keep my brain and body busy, because my heart is breaking. Every crack I mended so carefully, burst back open and split into two.
Maybe I can’t do this after all. Maybe this will be one promise I can’t keep.
But then I look down. And I see my name. Again. And there’s only one other person who could have left it for me.
Tapping the paper as if it might sting me or burn to the touch, I move it around with my fingertips before I can force myself to hold it. To pick it up. To open it. When I do, there’s no letter inside, just something small, stuck in the corner. Tipping the envelope over my open hand, I watch as a small golden hoop falls out and lands in my palm.
I can’t breathe.
It’s a ring. Not just any ring. It was his mother’s. I recognize it from the photo. That large aquamarine at the center is unmistakable. As is that fact that he buried his mother’s ring in the time capsule ten years ago. With my name on it.
The monumental meaning behind this gesture leaves me lightheaded. Or maybe it’s the fact I’ve been holding my breath for the last two minutes.
I gasp for air, tipping my head back toward the sky, the light at the end of my tree induced tunnel. It helps. So do the big brown eyes which greet me when I lower it again.
Marianna is awake from her nap. And the person I needed most to get through this is here with me now.
She’s three months old already. Three incredible months. And she’s beautiful. My heart swells with such an overpowering love every time I look at her. I’ve never experienced anything like it and she’s healed my heart in so many ways.
She has her father’s eyes. Rich, golden tones of amber which sparkle with delight, and a hint of mischief whenever she smiles. She looks so much like him. Of course, if he could hear me, he’d tell me I’m crazy. He’d insist that she was a prefect replica of her mother. It’s not true, but he’d insist. On principal.
I don’t have principal. But I have all the proof I need when I compare her sweet little face to the handsome one beside it. And his big, brown eyes are brimming with delight and mischief as he beams back at me.
“What do you say, we finally put that ring on your finger?”
Penn
I feel as if I’ve waited a lifetime for this moment. Actually, after the last year, it feels like ten. But we’re here. Together, even if the odds were stacked against us more than once. Maybe that’s what happens when you spend years fighting the thing you are meant to do. Rejecting it, because you’re too fucked up or scared to face it. Fate takes back the thing it gave and you have to prove yourself beyond a shadow of a doubt to get it back.
She’s my fate. Loving her and Marianna, it’s the one thing I know I was meant for in this life. And it’s the reason I’m still here today.
“You’ve had a hold on me from the first time we met, Trix. It was so unyielding, the only way I knew to fight it, was to fight with you. So I did. Every day. Every chance I got. But it backfired. Fighting with you didn’t put distance between us. It brought us closer. It taught us to communicate. It gave us a relationship. Showed us how unconditional love was and how easily it was to forgive. And, how differences between two people can sometimes be the strongest part of being together.”
Still holding Marianna in my one arm, I reach out the other to take Trix’s hand in mine.
Her glistening eyes seem mesmerized by my mouth, watching carefully for every word that comes out and nodding ever so slightly when I finish.
“I don’t need to marry you to know that I am yours for as long as I live. And I don’t need you to marry me to know that you’ll be mine.” I smile. “I need to marry you, so I can be that guy, standing at the altar watching as the most beautiful woman in the world comes walking toward him. So I can dance with you while you hold an entire room captive with your grace and tenderness. So I can shove cake in your face,” I grimace playfully, “And so when a hundred years from now our children’s children’s children ask their parents what love is, someone can show them a picture of us on our wedding and say, ‘This. This is love.’”
She blinks the tears from her lashes. “Those are really good reasons.”
“Do you need more?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t need one.”
Her hand is no longer shaking when she holds out the ring I’ve been waiting a decade to give her. She’s practically luminous when she smiles sweetly and says, “Will you do the honors?”
I nod, the enormity of this moment finally catching up to me now that I’ve said all I set out to say to her. The pressure building in my throat is about to break free but I don’t try to fight it. I’ve fought my feelings long enough to know better. Besides, she’s seen me cry. She’s seen all there is to see of me. And she’s still here. Holding out her hand to me, waiting for me to slide a ring on her finger that will tell the world forever after how she’s loved.
I move the teal colored stone which matches her eyes so stunningly over her skin until it’s anchored into place perfectly. I kiss her. I kiss her often. Until Marianna squeals, demanding our attention.
We spend hours sitting here around the time capsule and all of its contents. We talk. We laugh. We cry. Again. When Marianna dozes off for the second time, we sit in silence. We speak only with our eyes, listen only with our hearts. And the things I learn about her in these moments will stay with me always.
I love the silence.
Epilogue
Bo
“I like this version,” Lori says quietly. “I think it may be my favorite.”
I nod. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Lori knows that. She understands. Ten years she’s been coming with me now. Ten years of sitting here with me and listening to my stories. Seven of those I refused to even speak to her. But she came anyway. Every year.
“What made you decide to turn it into a love story?” she whispers, gently coaxing me out of my daze.
Without averting my gaze or giving any indication that she’s gotten my attention, I hand over the letter I’ve been clasping in my fingers for the last three hours. It’s not long. Just a few simple lines written out in my sister’s chicken scratch she tried to pass off as handwriting.
The sound of Lori’s gasp causes me to turn before I can catch myself, and I’m face to face with the words again as she drops her hand, allowing the flimsy old sheet of paper to fold over backward.
Penn,
In case I still haven’t mustered the nerve to tell you over the last ten years, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.
Don’t get me wrong...I hate you too.
But only because it’s so much easier to bear...
Luv, Trix
“Did you know?” Her pale green eyes are wide and glossy.
I shake my head. “No. I knew he felt that way...but I never had any idea Trix did.”
I place my hand over the ridges that spell out her name in stone. I know she’s not in there, but touching it still gives me a false sense of strength and security, like maybe I can still reach some small part of her.
She was supposed to ride with me that night. She’s was pissed when I insisted she go with Penn. Pissed because she hated him, or so I thought, and pissed because I was ditching her for Lori. And I didn’t care. The only thing on my horny teenage mind was spending time with my girlfriend. Alone.