Letting Go

by Charity Jackson

  Saying good-bye to her friend and locking the front door she hadn't turned in my direction. I didn't want to scare her so I gently called out to her. My heartbeat had skipped when she looked at me.

  You always hear people say that, that their heart skipped a beat, but I hadn't fully appreciated what that meant until Cyan made mine do just that.

  Our quick conversation had been playful and natural. She felt like a long lost friend. Like someone I had known since childhood and had lost touch with, only to find again and realize we had so much in common.

  I could envision finishing each others sentences, ordering for one another off a menu, picking out a book or movie knowing the other person would love it. That would require a future together, and again this was something I had never considered.

  We were heading south on Hwy. 1, driving along the coastline toward Big Sur. There was nearly two hours before the sun would set and the weather was beautiful. I left the windows down to let the warm wind blow through the car.

  Cyan's long brown hair was piled loose behind her head, kept in place with a silver clip. Her hand was blowing up and down out the window, surfing the wind. Her dress pants were a cream color this time, her blouse an emerald green that made her already green eyes simply shimmer. I was going to have a hard time keeping my eyes off her. The gangly teenager was definitely going to rear his awkward self tonight.

  I felt at peace. The moment was perfect. I could drive forever with this beautiful girl beside me. My heart ached a little, not with dread or guilt, at least not in this moment, but with a bursting feeling of happiness and contentment.

  I couldn't think of the last time I had felt this way. I had already had more than one glimpse of it with Cyan, out on the rock island and in the kayak, but apart from Cyan I don't know when I had been this happy. Maybe it had been that day with Bobby, lounging on the warm rocks, absorbing the sun and listening to my older brother tell me stories that made him the coolest person I had ever met.

  My elbow rested out the driver window, the finger tips of my left hand controlling the car. I loved this car. When my old bug finally broke down a year out of college, it was time to find a new vehicle. By new I figured reliable, not fancy new. When I saw my Cuda parked on the side of the road with a red and white For Sale sign stuck in the back window, I knew I had to have it.

  The interior and exterior were in good shape but the engine needed a little work. The price was right and within a couple weeks I had the engine purring like a kitten.

  My oldest brother Jace had been good for at least one thing and that was teaching Bobby and I a little about cars. Oil changes, changing a tire, minor engine work. Our father had no interest in cars, but it was Jace's passion and when he was teaching us something new he didn't growl and grump at us like he normally did with any other conversation. I could at least respect him during those times.

  “Where are we heading?” Cyan shouted over the sound of the rushing air.

  “I have no idea!” I shouted back. I grinned and she grinned back. It didn't matter where we were going, we enjoyed each others company and right now, in this moment that was all I cared about.

  She reached over and grabbed my right hand. Squeezing it she brought my hand to her mouth and lightly kissed my knuckles. My heart didn't just skip, this time it spotted the nearest cliff and jumped right off the edge.

  “Thank you!” she shouted again. Her face was flushed, a slight smile on her lips. Her eyes were locked on my face.

  “For what?” I asked glancing at her. I could barely raise my voice to be heard. Her kiss had affected me that much.

  “For being you. For this moment,” she said.

  My heart skipped again because I knew she was feeling it too. She was feeling the bond that was forming and I knew that I wasn't crazy about what I was feeling for her.

  I wasn't sure what my agenda was with this drive. I wasn't even sure I had one. I had been thinking about her all day and was barely able to work though a few designs and send off a couple emails before I finally just shut my computer back down and laid on my bed waiting for her to be finished at work.

  I had prepared myself to talk to her tonight. To bring up the reason why I was here. First I wanted her to tell me about Ian though. I don't know why for sure. I think I just wanted to hear how happy he made her. I respected a man that could love her so much. She so obviously deserved to be loved and by hearing about him I could put a personality to the photos of him I had seen.

  I had no idea how to bring it all up though. I wasn't supposed to even know she had a tragic story to tell.

  We stopped at a quaint restaurant set into the side of a cliff overhanging the Pacific ocean. The views were spectacular and sweeping. Waiters were dressed in black slacks and white shirts, with black aprons.

  A older woman sat at a black baby grand piano in the corner, softly playing a wide range of music. The restaurant was nice but I didn't feel out of place in my faded jeans as they obviously catered to the tourist crowd.

  We enjoyed a calamari appetizer and a glass of white wine. Our conversation had stayed safe to this point and we both quieted as the sun began to set. We held hands across the table and watched the orange sun drop into the dark blue sea.

  Cyan let out a little satisfied sigh as the light surrounding the sun rippled and the tip of the sun finally disappeared.

  “I could watch that every day,” she said. “It's beautiful and breathtaking every time.”

  The conversation was starting to drift to her past with the arrival of our salads. I encouraged her gently as she started to open up.

  “Well you know my dad is a total gear head and I have one brother who follows a little after him in that regard. My mom is pretty great and I consider her one of my best friends,” she said, starting out slow and with a safe topic.

  She went on to tell me about being raised around Pinecrest Lake, about going to college near Santa Barbara where she studied photography and art history. Whenever she would start to turn the subject toward me I would gently steer it back in her direction with another question.

  Our meals had arrived and they were half eaten by the time she brought up Ian. I could see her physically steady herself. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, raising her chin and setting her jaw.

  “I met the man that I thought would be my husband in kindergarten,” she said, raising her eyes to mine. I smiled, encouraging her to continue.

  “We had been friends forever, but friends like we were with everyone else in our small school. We had both gone off to college and didn't connect romantically until after we returned.”

  She told me about the night they reunited at the carnival. How surprised she was to see him again and how she felt instantly connected to him. She told me about his nickname for her and about the random anniversaries they would celebrate.

  I never asked why she talked about him in past tense and she didn't seem to notice. He sounded like a great guy, someone I would have been lucky to call a friend. Someone who had possessed Cyan's heart and always would.

  Her face was lit up the whole time she talked about their time together and I was so glad she didn't feel uncomfortable talking to me about him. That meant she was secure in whatever was happening between us.

  By the time we finished our meals and had ordered coffee she got to the reason why Ian was past tense. She didn’t know that I already knew why. I braced myself for this part of the story, starting to feel physically ill about what I knew was coming.

  “About two years ago,” she began, “On a late summer night, much like this one, I was celebrating the best night of my life.” She lifted her beautiful green eyes to mine, looking from one eye to the other. I held her gaze, smiling gently, just waiting for her to continue in her own time.

  “Ian and I had been together for two years at this point. His business was doing well, my photographs were selling and I was starting to teach art lessons to a few kids on the side. Our future was ahead of us. It was simp
le and we both belonged in that future with each other.” She sighed and smoothed the tablecloth in front of her. Her eyes were cast down as she watched my fingers slide down the condensation on the side of my water glass.

  Finally raising her eyes to mine she continued. “Ian had just proposed marriage. I was so surprised and so happy. We were heading back from the boat docks that jutted out into the lake. I remember it was so calm and peaceful sitting out on the lake. “ She turned toward the window trying to look out but in the low light she was looking past a dim reflection of herself.

  “He was killed less than an hour after he proposed.” She said this to her reflection but turned back to me again before continuing. “The men had been sitting on a picnic table. We walked right toward them, never expecting the danger. They were demanding the ring that Ian had just slipped on my finger. When one grabbed me, Ian had instinctively come to my rescue. He was stabbed immediately. There was really no struggle, no argument, no punch to the face, they just stabbed him.” Her face was pained while she spoke and tears had started to form in her eyes, but she was controlling them.

  “They ran and Ian died at my feet. It was dark and I was all alone. He was such a good guy, you know? One of the really good ones.” She looked up at me, her eyes full of pain and her brow furrowed. I felt sick to my stomach.

  “For him to be taken that way...it just wasn't fair. We had plans, dreams, a bright future. All of it taken away over a small ring. I would have just handed it over if I had known what was coming. I would have given them the ring, my wallet, my house, anything if I had thought that it would save Ian,” she said, dabbing the corner of her napkin at her eyes.

  The restaurant was still busy but no one was looking our way. We were tucked in a corner under low lights. I had no idea what to say, what to ask, if I should say anything at all. I sensed that Cyan just needed to talk, that she needed to share her story with me.

  She told me about the trial and the guy they caught. My brother, although I didn't share this. I couldn't yet. This was her story, her unburdening and it didn't feel like the right time.

  When she talked about the guy that got away and the suspicion that it was Bobby Cowan's brother I had to physically restrain myself from squirming in my chair. I felt a headache coming on and I pinched the bridge of my nose discreetly. Cyan finished her story by expressing her anger that Ian's killer hadn't been caught but that she had moved on with her life, slowly learning to let go of her grief and anger. She said it was still a daily struggle. Something I understood all too well.

  After three cups of coffee I paid the bill and we stood to leave. Cyan excused herself to the restroom and I agreed to meet her at the car.

  Stepping outside the blast of cool air against my face felt good. My heart was broken all over again for Cyan. I wished so hard that I could change the events of that night. That I could give Ian back to her. Even at the expense of my own heart and what I was feeling for her, I would give all that up in an instant if it meant that she didn't have to ever feel the pain she had been feeling these last two years.

  Coming out of the restaurant Cyan looked stronger. She had freshened up, applied a little lip gloss, and she was smiling. I was still leaning against the passenger door breathing in the cool air, trying to calm my breaking heart.

  She slid her arms around my waist and laid her head on my chest. I leaned down without thinking and kissed the top of her head as I wrapped my arms around her back.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I needed to tell you about Ian so you heard a little about that 'past influencing the future' that we talked about last night.”

  Her head was tilted up at me and I looked down at her. I was so tempted to kiss her and I could feel the tension. I knew she would be okay with it if I did, her eyes were locked on mine but then they would drift down to my lips before flicking back up.

  I wanted our first kiss, if we ever got to have one, to be post-confession. I wanted her to kiss me knowing the truth. I didn't want her to have given that first kiss since Ian away to me until I had earned it.

  I laid the side of my face on the top of her head and she naturally placed her cheek back against my chest. I placed one hand on the back of her head, cupping her to me, my other arm was wrapped tightly around her. We stood that way for a few minutes, listening to one another breathe, staring out across the parking lot toward the blackness over the sea.

  Chapter 18 – Cyan

  I felt such relief to have told Ryder about Ian and everything that had happened. I didn't feel awkward to have shared that part of my past. I had also expected to feel a little guilty for having shared something so important with another man, but I didn't feel any guilt either. Ryder seemed like a man that Ian would have approved of.

  It was another beautiful sunny day and I wished I could be out exploring with my camera, but I was working with Lynn and I couldn't wait to fill her in on the big step I had taken with Ryder.

  “So he listened to the whole story? No weirdness, no awkward questions?” Lynn was asking. Besides Evelyn, Lynn had been my best friend and confidant over the last couple years. She fully understood how big a deal it was that I was letting another man into my life.

  It was mid morning on a Sunday and the gallery was empty for the moment. We sat in the chairs near the fireplace chatting, waiting for a new group of people to come in.

  “No, he just let me bare my soul then he held me in his arms. It was perfect.” I knew I had a dreamy expression on my face, but I didn't try to hide it.

  “And you two haven't even kissed yet?” She seemed a little disappointed. I'm sure she was eager for some juicy details. That whole living vicariously thing.

  “Not yet, but I'm open to that. You know, physically connecting with him. There was a time when I didn't think I would ever let another man near me.”

  “This is big then.” Lynn said softly. It was a statement and not a question. I agreed.

  “I'm happy Lynn, I really am. I told Evelyn all about it this morning and she was of course really happy for me too. I know she's been worried,” I said. “Oh, she sent a plate of cookies for you and Roger.”

  “I love that woman!” Lynn exclaimed. “My hips and butt, not so much!”

  I laughed, mentally noting how much easier the laughs were coming lately.

  “Oh, before I forget. I'm meeting Roger at the new bistro that opened up on Foam Street right after work. He has some questions about the photos for his company brochure. I'm not really sure what he was talking about but he wanted to know if you could meet up for dinner. We buy in exchange for your professional opinion.” She smiled, knowing I wouldn't miss a chance to help out her husband.

  “Of course, that sounds great. We've been talking about getting together for dinner for weeks,” I said.

  The day moved slowly until early afternoon. Around two o'clock a nicely dressed woman walked in and ventured over toward my photos. Going directly to the photo of the lake she asked about purchasing the piece. After a short discussion she made the purchase.

  Taking it down and wrapping it in brown paper I asked if she needed it delivered. She declined saying that it would fit in her minivan. I was ecstatic. It had been a few weeks since one of my photographs had sold and my savings account could really use the influx of cash.

  It was a little sad to see the photo of the lake come down off the wall though. I had the original files of course and I kept eight by ten photos in books that I could always look at. It was one photo of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of photos that I have of Pinecrest Lake, but that one in particular had always been special.

  When the day was over and Lynn and I stepped out, locking the door behind us, I didn't even feel disappointed that I hadn't heard from Ryder all day. Selling the photo and spending time with Lynn and Roger added up to a wonderful day.

  Chapter 19 – Ryder

  So many times during the day I was tempted to text her or stop by with some excuse to see her. After she bared her soul last night though I
just wanted to give her a little space. I'm sure that she needed to think about what was happening between us and I didn't want to get between any memories of her and Ian that may have been stirred up.

  I figured I would spend the day getting some work done and would text her before bed. How does that saying go? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' I don't think my heart could grow any fonder, but I hoped it would work for her.

  By early evening I was getting restless being cooped up in the hotel room. I pulled a thick gray sweatshirt on over my white t-shirt and laced up my running shoes.

  The jogging trails were fantastic in this town and I planned to just follow them along the coast for a few miles. I could grab some dinner on the way back.

  It was still light out and I could see the blanket of fog rolling over the hill in the distance. The sky would turn gray and misty once the fog blanketed the city giving everything a magical glow. The tourist traffic was light as the weekend was wrapping up. Four miles went by quickly and I felt light on my feet. White sailboats dotted the dark blue waves, the breeze blowing lightly. Waves crashed against the rocks in the distance.

  As I rested before turning and heading back I took time to watch a sea otter and her pup. I assumed it was a female and probably the pups mom, but I really didn't know anything about these adorable creatures. Yep, I thought, adorable. I was getting so mushy since I came here.

  The mom dove down, the pup resting on the surface of the water, coiled in a bed of kelp. Up popped the older otter with a large red crab. Rolling on her back she started ripping at the crab, the pup swimming up and taking pieces from her. Back and forth she shared the food, clutching the crab and rolling in the water, washing off the bits of shell that she had broken off.

  I don't know how long I stood and watched, but when she dove down and came up with a small octopus I almost laughed out loud. It was the coolest sight ever. I felt a little sorry for the sea creatures as the otter tore them apart, but the sight amazed me at the same time.