by Cassia Leo
MY CHEST AND HEAD ACHE from the uncontrollable sobbing. I should go to Cora’s to get my stuff so I can drive back to the dorm, but I want to wait for Adam. I also can’t bear the thought of being alone in the dorm right now. I feel as if it’s not just my heart that is breaking in half. My life is being split down the middle and everything that happened yesterday was the before. Tomorrow will be the after. Today, I’m stuck in the hell of knowing there is no turning back.
I sit on a barstool and try to calm myself. The instant I hear the sound of the guitar, I can breathe again.
“This ain’t our last goodbye,
it’s our last hello.
I can feel it in my shattered heart;
all through my weary bones.
You’re the missing piece, the final scrap.
Someday we’ll fit together;
someday I’ll bring you back.”
The melody is light and hopeful, but there’s a blue quality in his voice that makes my stomach twist.
“These pieces of you are promises,
whispering endless possibilities.
My pieces of you are haunted,
just echoes of shattered memories.”
He sings the chorus one more time before he starts the second verse. I know from the first line that this verse is about Abigail.
“I held your hand in mine,
Now the moment’s gone
Felt the love in your tiny heart,
Never brought you home
You’re my missing piece, a lovely dream,
Someday, I’ll find you baby,
Someday, on me you’ll lean.”
He concludes with a soft, diminishing melody that gives me chills and, amazingly, the tears have stopped.
“Chris?”
“Claire.”
“I need a little time to think. I’ll call you before I go to sleep. I promise.”
“I love you more than this,” he says and I know he means that he loves me enough to forgive me.
“I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”
“Don’t say that. We’ve both hurt each other, babe, but we always get through it.”
I don’t want to tell him that I don’t think this is the kind of hurt we will survive. We say our goodbyes and I’m reminded of the first line of the song he just sang: This ain’t our last goodbye, it’s our last hello.
I don’t want to be without Chris. It’s so selfish of me to put him through this when all he’s done is forgive me and take care of me. He handed over his heart even though I’ve proven to be completely unworthy of it.
I have to call Senia, but she’s probably in full party-mode right now. I don’t want to ruin her night. There’s only one other person I can call.
Jackie picks up on the first ring. “Talk to me, hun.”
I launch into a long explanation of everything she’s missed out on since Chris and I broke up last year. I want her to know everything, from the day we broke up to the conversation Chris and I just had. I want her to know the whole truth and the real me.
My biological mother wasn’t strong enough to live for me. I can only hope Jackie’s love for me is strong enough for her to forgive me.
When I’m done, there’s a silence that I find both worrying and comforting. At least she’s not screaming curses at me, but maybe that’s because she’s so appalled she can’t form a sentence.
“Jackie?”
“Oh, honey. I wish I could tell you what to do. You know it kills me to know that you and Chris are hurting, but this is the kind of test that you two either face together or you move on. I don’t have to tell you how much I love you both and how much I want you around. Claire, you’re my girl. I will always want whatever keeps you close to me. But more than that, I just want both of you to be happy. What would make you happy?”
This is a generous response from someone who has already been so generous with me. I’ve made one mistake after another trying to make Chris happy. I thought Chris would be happy not to have to worry about a baby just as his career was taking off. I never thought I could be making the biggest mistake of my life.
“I want to know what would make you happy,” I say. “I think that what would make you happy is what would make me happy.”
She’s sniffs loudly and I know she’s crying now. When was the last time someone other than Chris cared about Jackie’s happiness?
“Claire, it would make me very happy for you to do well in school and not worry so much about this stuff for a while, but you need to do what your heart tells you to do. Don’t listen to an old spinster like me.”
“Jackie, you’re not an old spinster.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I prepare to say the words I’ve wanted to say for fourteen years. “You’re my mom.”
She lets out a soft oh and I give her a minute to collect herself before I say goodbye. I look at the time on my phone before I tuck it into my back pocket and spin around on the barstool. Adam has been gone for over an hour. I’m worried, but also glad that he told me to stay instead of kicking me out. This is a sign that he might be willing to talk this out when he returns. I just wish I knew if that’s what I want.
I slide off the barstool and walk slowly toward the drafting table in the corner of the living room. I slip a set of plans from the bottom of the three-inch stack on the table and lay them on top of the stack.
From my many conversations with Adam, I learned that Myles had two sisters, one older and one younger. His mother was a single parent after Myles’ father left them for a woman twelve years his junior. His father was good at hiding his assets and hardly sent them any child support. His mother moved them into a tiny apartment near Carolina Beach so Myles could continue to surf. He won $800 in that first competition and Myles was so excited when he called his mom to tell her about it. Then hours later all their hope was lost.
If anyone understands the guilt I’ve lived with this past year, it’s Adam. He’s my lifeline and I’m pretty certain that I’m his. But we both gave up on each other. He broke up with me then I ran into Chris’s arms instead of fighting for us. I should have driven the hundred miles to see what kind of surprise Adam left for me in his apartment. But I was afraid I would find something like the locket, something that would be too painful to accept.
I run my fingers over the cool paper of the blueprint and trace the pitched line of the roof. This is the home that Adam wants to build for Myles’ family. He has it all planned out, from the concrete foundation to the flowers in the garden. He may never be able to build it now that he quit his job. Adam’s father will probably empty out his trust fund just as Adam suspected he would. And he did it for me.
I trace my finger over the front door as I think of the first time Adam knocked on my door, the same night he almost ran me over. He brought me the purse I had left in his truck then asked if he could come inside. As much as Adam loves to plan his life, he’s never afraid to take a risk.
I have to find whatever he left for me in his apartment while he was in Hawaii then I’ll leave.
I skim through every page of the blueprints on his desk, thinking maybe he left a message for me hidden in the pages, but I find nothing. I move to the coffee table behind me and my heart drops when I see the tiny black dish no bigger than the palm of my hand with the glossy coconut-scented oil. As nice as Adam’s apartment is, it always smelled a little briny because he likes to air-dry his wetsuit by hanging it over the shower curtain rod. I got him the scented oil so his apartment would smell nice whenever I visited. I thought he would surely get rid of it as soon as I left to UNC.
I dig through the sofa cushions and come up with nothing but a half-eaten Red Vine. He must have interrupted me mid-chew. I heave a deep sigh as I remember the sheer happiness I felt when we were together in this apartment.
After searching the bedroom and the bathroom, I move on to the kitchen. The only cupboard I haven’t looked in is the cupboard above the refrigerator. I grab a chair from the tiny dining table he never uses a
nd stand on top of it to reach the cupboard. As soon as I open the cupboard door, I know I’ve found it.
The cupboard is empty except for a single box of macaroni and cheese.
I grab the box and sit down in the chair, closing my eyes as I remember our first date.
“I have something I need to tell you,” I say as I climb onto the stool. “I meditate.”
“Cool. So do I.”
“You do?”
He dumps the dry pasta into the pot before he answers. “Well, sort of. Whenever I’m stressed or if I can’t make it to the beach to surf, I’ll chill out and do nothing for an hour or so, to clear my head.”
“You’re not supposed to put the pasta in until the water’s boiling.”
“Fuck the rules. How often do you meditate?”
I take a deep breath as I prepare to reveal my secret to this almost-stranger. “A lot. Like, a few times a day.”
“A few times a day? Do the customers at the café stress you out that much?”
This conversation is not going in a safe direction, might as well push it all the way over the edge.
“Meditation is the way I cope… with the memories.”
He looks up from the steaming pot of water to look at me. “Go on.”
“I’m not going to spill my guts to you,” I insist.
But I did spill my guts to him and he never judged me. In fact, I think my secrets made him love me more.
I slide my finger under the flap on the top of the macaroni box and discover that it’s held in place by a small piece of double-sided tape that gives easily. I lift the second flap and see a folded piece of paper. I pull it out and it’s not his handwriting. He must have had someone else write the note for him while he was in Hawaii.
If you’re reading this it means you came looking for me. First of all, thank you. I look for you everywhere, and every day I find you in the smell of the ocean, the bright ray of light that sparks on the horizon a moment before sunrise, and the laughter of strangers. Memories I can’t seem to grasp onto long enough. I’m coming back for you, but until then I wanted to give you something to show you that you still have my whole heart.
I look inside the box and see another folded piece of paper. When I pull it out, I realize it’s a folded envelope and it’s holding something much too heavy to be another note.
Chapter Forty
Claire
THE SOUND OF THE DOOR opening startles me and I drop the envelope back into the box. I look over my shoulder and Adam is looking straight at me. I stand from the chair as he walks into the kitchen. He glances at the box in my hand then looks me in the eye.
“Did you open it?”
“I opened the box.”
“And the envelope?”
“Not yet.”
He reaches for the box and I’m too stunned to stop him as he takes it from my hand and places it on the counter. “You don’t have to open it.”
“You don’t want me to open it?”
He sees the note he had someone write for him clutched in my hand and he looks conflicted. “I was so sure you’d come here. Now I’m not sure of anything.”
He stares at the box of macaroni on the counter for a moment before he picks it up. He pulls the envelope out of the box and looks me in the eye.
“What I do know is that I’ve never met anyone like you. My mom told me what she said to you the day we visited my uncle’s ranch.”
I think back to that day and remember how Adam’s mother asked me to keep my heart open when Adam opened his heart to me. What she meant was, “Please don’t judge him when he tells you what happened to Myles.” Once Adam confessed his secret to me, I got the feeling that other girls may not have been as understanding as I was. But how could I not be.
“What your mother said to me had nothing to do with the way I reacted to what you told me.”
“I know, but I want you to know that you’re the first girl to know all my secrets. And you’re the only girl I want to share my secrets with.”
He rips open the envelope and my heart races as I anticipate what is about to drop out of it.
“Thinking of you with Chris kills me. I drove for a long time before I ended up on Shell Island and I sat there on the sand for a while thinking of what I would do if I were you.” His eyes penetrate me and I hold my breath as I wait for his response. “That was difficult. But then I forced myself to think of what I would do without you. And that was worse.”
He upends the envelope and a ring drops into the palm of his hand. It’s a silver band with a princess cut diamond. My heart is in my throat and I grab the back of the dining chair next to me to steady myself.
“This isn’t an engagement ring,” he quickly clarifies as he places the empty envelope and the box of macaroni on the counter.
He holds the ring between his thumb and forefinger and I’m mesmerized by the way it sparkles in the harsh kitchen lighting.
“What is it?” I ask and he finally smiles.
“It’s my promise to never leave you again.”
His smile fades a little as he waits for my response.
“I want that ring. I want to put it on and wrap my arms around you and never let go.” He closes his eyes because he knows what’s coming. “I’m sorry, Adam. I just can’t trust myself to make a sound decision right now. I love you,” I say as I grab his face so he looks at me. “I do love you. You believe me, don’t you?”
The look in his eyes is pure heartbreak. I stand on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck, but he doesn’t hug me back.
“Adam, please believe me. I have never met anyone like you, either. What you and I have is so different and so fucking amazing.”
I squeeze him tighter and he finally bends down a little to wrap his arms around my waist. He pulls me flush against him and I sigh as I breathe in the scent on his collar. He buries his face in my neck and takes a deep breath, then his lips are on my skin, warm and inviting. He opens his mouth to softly bite my neck and I moan.
“Adam.”
His lips graze the curve of my jaw until they land on my mouth. I know I should stop this, but I can’t. I want the heat of his mouth on mine. I want to feel how much he needs me.
I clutch handfuls of his hair as our mouths move together, tasting each other for the first time in four weeks. He tightens his hold on my waist before he lifts me off the floor and sits me on the counter. The box of macaroni topples over onto the floor, but the clatter of dry pasta doesn’t deter us. He spreads my legs and slides me forward on the counter as he kisses me firmly. Then suddenly he stops.
He shakes his head as he steps back. “I’m gonna go to my room so I don’t have to watch you leave,” he says as he takes my hand and places the ring in my palm. “Just keep this and call me when you make up your mind.” He kisses my forehead, then my temple. “I love you.”
I close my eyes as he walks away and wait a moment, until I’m sure he’s in his room, before I slide off the counter. I look at the ring for a moment and notice the words engraved on the inner surface of the silver band: Olive you forever.
I feel numb inside and out as I tuck the ring into the pocket of my jacket. I leave the apartment and close the front door softly. Staring at the doorknob for a moment, I consider going back inside and asking him to put the ring on my finger.
But Jackie is right. I need to focus on school for a while.
I turn away from the door and begin the slow, painful descent down the stairs. I’ve only managed a few steps when a flash of headlights stops me. Then a black Porsche pulls into the parking lot and stops a few feet from the bottom of the stairs.
Through the driver’s side window, I glimpse the back of Tristan’s head. Then the passenger door flings open. Chris steps out of the car, grabbing the top of the door to pull himself up. I rush down the last few steps to help him out of the car. He slams the car door shut just as I make it to him.
“Where are your crutches?”
His eyes burn into me. �
�You’re my crutch.” He grabs my left hand, but his eyes never leave mine. “You asked me why I told my mom we were engaged.” My heart hammers against my chest as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small, black box. “She found this a few months after we broke up and she threw a fit because she thought I had already moved on with someone else. I was too ashamed to admit to her that I bought the ring a month after we broke up. So I told her that we were engaged and you never wore the ring because you were afraid people would judge you for being engaged at nineteen.”
He opens the box and I have to blink a few times to believe what I’m seeing.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper as I shake my head.
He takes the ring out of the box and places the box on top of the car. “You know I would get down on my knee if I could,” he says with a smile as he takes my hand again. “I used to lie awake at night, when we were together, and I’d imagine this moment, but I never imagined it like this. Please forgive me for doing this here.”
“Chris, please—”
“Just hear me out,” he responds quickly as he rubs his thumb over the top of my hand. He’s nervous. “Since the day we met, when you insisted you weren’t going to fuck me, you’ve captivated me.” I chuckle, but his smile disappears as he continues. “The year we spent apart was the worst year of my life. The years we were together were the best. Your face and your words are entangled in every one of my happiest memories. You’re a part of me that I can’t let go. I refuse to let go. I’m not myself without you.” His eyes are full of such intensity and pain, but there’s also a dim spark of hope. “We don’t have to get married anytime soon. We can wait until you graduate or longer, if that’s what you want. I just want you to be mine and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, to love you and to take care of you. I want to sing you to sleep every night and wake up with you in my arms every morning.” He pulls my hand up and lays a soft kiss on my ring finger. “Claire Brooklyn Nixon, will you marry me?”
I close my eyes and draw in a long breath that smells like the ocean and Chris. He said my face and words are entangled in all his happiest memories, but my happiest memories are filled with everything from his face and words to his scent and the comforting sense of home. If this past week with Chris has taught me anything, it’s that Chris and I have an unshakeable bond. Even if we break up, we will always share the kind of love that I’m not sure I’ll ever find again without him.
I bite my lip as I open my eyes and the tears come again. “You and I will always share something untouchable. And I’ll never stop loving you and Jackie. You both gave me the greatest gifts I’ve ever received, a home and a family. I love you and I want you to be in my life forever, but I can’t marry you. I can’t be with anyone right now.”
The disappointment in his eyes kills me. I step forward and carefully wrap my arms around his shoulders so I don’t put any more weight on his leg. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tightly. His heart beats against mine and I sigh as I realize this is my favorite thing about Chris: how relaxed I feel when I’m in his arms.
His hands slide over my back and under my jacket as he holds me, but he never