She assesses me for a moment, biting her lip.
“You said you were a nurse, right?”
“Yes.”
“What a coincidence. We’re looking for nurses to join our team.”
“Nurses can be drug reps?”
“Oh yes. We have all sorts of backgrounds. Nursing, business, marketing, you name it. We all have a little something different to offer.”
She digs through her purse, and produces her business card.
“Give me a call. I think you’d be perfect.”
Chapter 36
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
My mother sets a cup of tea in front of me.
“How’s the new job going?”
“Perfect,” I say, smiling into my cup.
I’m visiting my parents today, setting up Christmas decorations. It was like I was ten years old again, putting up the tree and hanging the lights. Partly because Mom and Dad have the same old decorations that they used when I was a kid. And partly because Dad always says he’s going to help, but eventually gives up and starts watching CNN.
Some Christmas traditions never die.
“I’m still finding my feet and getting used to it. But overall, it’s been a good change.”
“Don’t you miss the hospital?”
“A little,” I admit. “I miss the patients. The nice ones, anyway.”
“Have you talked with Sam yet?” she asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “No. I don’t think she wants to talk to me. I said some horrible things to her.
“I miss her,” I add.
“She loves you. You’ll patch things up eventually.”
I sniff. “I hope so.”
“Well, this new job seems to suit you better. I always wondered about you being a nurse.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“You’d never talked about wanting to be a nurse before. It really surprised me when you jumped into it.”
“In the beginning, I wanted to be there. I thought it was good for me,” I say.
I swallow hard. “I thought I could make it up to Aaron, somehow.”
Mom smiles sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“When I left the hospital, I felt like I was admitting a mistake. I felt like I was a failure.”
“You could never be a failure.”
“But, what about all of that wasted money, and education…”
“Education is never wasted, even if you don’t think you’ll ever use it again. But it’s okay to admit you made a mistake and move on. It sure beats doing something you hate for the rest of your life. I think it’s better to be honest with yourself, and have the courage to change things if it’s in your power to do so.”
I nod, feeling relieved and happy that she’s supportive.
“I’m serious. So what if you felt like you made a mistake? Lots of people change their minds, and change career paths, or their entire lives once they’re fed up with it.”
She drums her fingers across the table.
—
“Have you heard from Brett?” she asks.
“Nope. Seems I’m good at pushing people away these days,” I mutter.
“He loves you,” she says. “He misses you.”
“Ravi mentioned that Brett has been out here, helping you and Dad with the house and stuff. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She waves my comment away. “He asked us not to mention it. I think he’s a bit embarrassed about the whole situation, to be honest.”
“Embarrassed about helping you?”
“Embarrassed that you’re not together.”
I twist in my chair, angling away from her.
“Honey, what happened with Brett? He’s completely besotted with you. Don’t you love him?”
“Of course I do,” I say, my voice shaky.
“Then what’s the problem?”
I lay my forehead on the table. It feels cool and refreshing.
“I’m the problem. I can’t get over Aaron.”
I spend the next hour talking, getting it all off my chest. I start tearing my napkin into little pieces.
“So. What do you think? What should I do?”
She clasps her hands and looks me in the eye.
“I think you’re waiting for some magical day when you’ll stop missing Aaron. But, in reality, you’ll probably never stop missing him. Yes, you can learn to live with it, you can heal, you can be happy, but you’ll never be the same person you were before you met Aaron. You can’t erase the past, or rewrite history. Just remember it, acknowledge how it changed you, and move on.”
I stare at her, stunned. I can’t think of one thing to say.
She smiles kindly at me. “Just think about it.”
—
After supper, I pull on my winter coat and retrieve my boots from the back door.
“Are you sure you won’t stay overnight? It gets dark so early now,” Mom says.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.
“Okay.” She squeezes a bit harder. “I love you, Sophie.”
—
I stare at the dark stretch of highway. The car is quiet, but my mind is buzzing.
Aaron…
Memories start flooding back, as they always do, but this time, I allow myself to take an honest look at what we had.
I love him, but was it perfect?
Have I put our relationship up on a pedestal?
Maybe, just maybe, the Aaron living in my mind isn’t really who Aaron was.
Maybe it was just an ideal.
I allow myself to see Brett’s perspective. How could he ever compete with a perfect memory?
I’ve been so unfair to him.
I wanted Aaron so badly. I still do. It breaks my heart, but maybe I do need to let go. Because I can’t keep living like this.
If only I had a sign, something that told me what I needed to do.
“Please, God,” I say to the quiet interior of my car, “give me a sign, something to help me put this puzzle together. Anything.”
Silence.
My mind swirls around until I can’t take the quiet anymore, and I switch on the radio. A familiar tune fills the air.
“No freaking way…”
The melody from “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” washes over me.
I listen, my heart pounding with every note, every word. Especially at the chorus.
All the tumblers have fallen into place in my head.
And in my heart.
—
The minute I get home, I call Sam.
“Truce?” I say.
I hear her breathing over the line.
“Please, Sam, I’m sorry. I really need to talk to you.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry too. I feel so bad about how we left things…”
“Never mind. I was a big dick.”
She laughs. “You’re a woman, you can’t be a dick. Asshole is unisex, but dick is totally male.”
“Well, regardless, I was being one. And I’m so sorry.”
“Okay, truce,” she says, and I can hear her laugh.
“Sam? Do you remember how to get to the red tent clearing?”
She pauses. “I think so. Why?”
“There’s something I need to do.”
Chapter 37
The Last Time
—
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Yes,” Samira says.
These backcountry roads all look the same to me, one snowy field after another. My knees bounce with nervous energy as I scan the horizon for anything that seems familiar.
I should feel tired. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.
I tossed and turned for hours, and finally decided to get up and write a letter. A letter that I’ve folded and put inside this bright red, helium-filled balloon sitting on my lap.
I’m feeling a bit nervous, actual
ly. I’m going to the place where I have the most vivid memories of Aaron.
A place that only he and I shared.
Our own private heaven.
Samira cranes her neck, and slowly pulls her car beside an old access road that leads into a field.
“I think this is it.”
We get out of the car. I vaguely recognize the dark tree line. It looks different. No leaves. No color. Just gray trees and crunchy snow.
“Thanks for doing this, Sam.”
She gives me a small smile and squeezes my free hand. The balloon bobs and sways in the breeze, a bright red stain against the stark landscape.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I squeeze back a couple of tears.
“No. This is something I have to do on my own.”
She nods. “I’ll wait for you. Take as long as you need.”
I stomp through the deep snow toward the trail visible at the tree line. The balloon rubs on a few branches overhead, and I worry that it might pop.
I yank it down, and hug it tight against my chest.
The woods are brighter than I thought they’d be. From the road, they appeared dark and menacing. But, without leaves getting in the way, the sun streams through the branches, dappling the ground below.
I walk. And walk. And walk.
I’m starting to get a bit sweaty under all of these winter layers. One of the biggest moments of my life, and I’m going to be a sweat-ball for it.
Awesome.
Nothing looks familiar. Aaron made me wear a blindfold, so I have no idea how far I have left to go.
And then, the ground slopes downward, and I remember Aaron’s wrapping his arms around my waist. Even if my eyes don’t remember a thing, my feet do.
I hear his voice crooning in my ear.
“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood…”
My throat tightens and my eyes burn. I’m not sure if I can do this.
I choose my steps carefully, navigating through slippery snow.
The clearing comes into view.
I stop walking.
“Oh…”
Nothing looks like it did in my memories.
But.
It is still so beautiful. Virgin snow blankets the clearing, sparkling under the bright November morning sun.
I tentatively walk toward the middle of the clearing, visualizing where our tent had been, where the fairy lights had hung.
My heart hammers in my chest.
My tongue slicks over my dry lips, and I let the balloon rise up into the air, while still holding the tether.
I clear my throat. “I…uh…”
Oh, this feels so stupid. Maybe this was a horrible plan; maybe I should just turn around and go home.
Maybe…
Wait—what was that?
A small flash of brown swoops past my face. I follow it as fast as my eyes allow, and notice a tiny bird sitting on a tree branch.
He starts singing.
“All right, birdie. I’ll talk to you.”
I start again.
“Aaron…I. God, this is hard.”
A small sob escapes me. My hands vibrate, making the balloon shudder and jerk above me. The folded letter bumps and taps inside, a literal Morse code of my anxiety.
My birdie friend sings sweetly, as if encouraging me to go on.
“I remember the first time I saw you. You were confident and sexy, and had the attention of every girl in the room. You scared me.”
A cathartic bubble of laughter echoes through the clearing.
“I swore you were bad news, and that nothing good could come from you. But, I was wrong. So wrong.
“You were my first love. With you, I learned what love could and should be. I never thought I’d be with anyone half as wonderful as you. You were sweet, and funny, and smart. So, so smart. And kind, and gentle. And poetic. Adventurous.”
I think for a moment. “And hot. God, you were hot,” I say, laughing. “I could go on and on, talking about how great you are.”
A smile spreads over my lips. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“We had so many firsts. First time being in love. First time making love. I wanted you, for forever.”
Hot, angry tears stain my cheeks.
“I was so angry with you, when you died. Angry that you didn’t notice it sooner. Angry that I didn’t notice the cancer sooner. I was angry you left me here all alone. Part of me clung to the belief that if we’d have done things differently, you’d still be here.”
Sniffle.
“With me.”
Mad, whooshing blood pounds a fast rhythm in my ears.
“I was angry with your parents for blaming me, angry with myself for thinking they might’ve been right. Angry with you for getting sick in the first place.
“I felt so pissed off with God, for allowing me to meet you and then taking you away before we had a chance to really be together. It all just felt so unfair, so pointless.
“And then this year, when I met Brett…”
My voice cracks.
“I’ve been so afraid that you’re looking down from heaven, waiting to hurl thunderbolts on our heads. I’ve felt so guilty, worrying what you might think. Worrying that you’d think I didn’t love you anymore.
“Aaron,” I say quietly. “I’ll always love you. You’ll always be a part of me.”
My knees, weak and shaky, give out. I kneel down in the cold snow, sunlight shining on my face.
“I forgive you, Aaron.
“I forgive you for getting sick.
“I forgive you for dying.
“I forgive your parents for blaming me.
“I forgive you for loving me and leaving me.
“And…I forgive myself. For not fixing you, for not having all of the answers.”
Cold, clean air fills my lungs.
I can breathe again.
“I forgive myself for holding on too long, for making mistakes.”
My thoughts, like an ocean’s tide, ebb and flow between Aaron and Brett.
I look up at the tree branch, and notice that my birdie friend has gone.
But, that’s somehow okay now.
“Aaron, I wrote you a letter. I wrote down everything I ever wanted to say to you. Since there’s no mail service to heaven, this is the best I could come up with.”
A breeze blows through, lifting pieces of my hair and tugging the balloon. I feel the white ribbon flex in my hand.
Okay, this is it. This is the reason I came out here.
I look up at the balloon, and my chest constricts.
I slowly begin to release my fingers from the tether. The physical act of letting go seems so final.
My pulse races. I feel like I could both fly and scream.
Am I ready to do this?
“Goodbye, Aaron.”
One by one, I relax my fingers, and finally feel the ribbon slip through my hand. For an agonizing moment, I consider trapping the ribbon in my fist again, jumping for it before I completely let go.
But, I don’t. I watch the bright red balloon with my letter to Aaron inside float higher and higher into the sky, a brilliant spot of life and color, until I can’t see it anymore.
I stand, my legs numb and cold from kneeling so long. I close my eyes, and breathe deep, arms outstretched. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unburdened, so light and airy, so…
Free.
Snowflakes settle softly on my face. I smile, eyes still closed.
I imagine that they are goodbye kisses from Aaron. The thought is both immensely sad and comforting.
I eventually look around; my eyelashes are matted with fluffy snowflakes. While I was in my own little world, a fresh, white blanket of snow had fallen, enveloping the entire forest in a clean, wintry hug.
My tracks are completely covered.
I turn toward the trail, and make a new path on my way out of the woods.
Chapter 38
It’s All Over Now<
br />
Trudging out of the woods, I see Samira in her car, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, singing along to a song.
She turns the radio off. “So, how’d it go?”
I settle into my seat and glance back at the woods. “It was bittersweet, but good. I feel better than I have in years. It’s like I’ve been wrapped up in chains for years, and today I finally found the key.”
She nods, and after a pause, leans over to give me an awkward side hug.
“I was worried about you out there by yourself. You were gone a long time.”
The mid-afternoon sun glares off the snow.
“Ah, still plenty of daylight left.”
I take out my phone to check messages as we drive away, noting the date and time. It’s the second week in December. Tiny alarm bells are going off in my head.
“How fast can you drive back to the city?” I ask.
Samira narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”
“I was supposed to meet Brett today. Well, sort of. We set up this date months ago. He was going to teach me how to skate. He was so excited about it.”
I bite my lip, my mind frantic. “If he’s still there today, then he hasn’t given up on me.”
“What time were you supposed to meet him?”
I glance at my phone again. It’s a quarter after three, and we’re at least an hour north of the city limits.
“At five. He wanted to take me to some outdoor skating rink on the south side.”
Sam says nothing, but I feel the car lurch forward. We hurtle toward the city, spraying gravel and chunks of snow behind us.
What will it be like to see him again—that is, assuming he shows up. Our last encounter didn’t exactly go well. Does he even want to see me?
I glance at the clock. It’s already 5:30 P.M.
“What’s taking so long?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair.
Samira gestures toward the plugged main road. “Stupid weekend traffic.”
I squint at the long stretch of highway, my stomach twisted in knots.
What if he’s there right now, waiting for me? What if he’s about to leave, seeing as how my late ass hasn’t shown up? I feel really jittery inside, and have to talk myself out of bolting from the car. We’re inching forward, but it’s going to take forever.
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