by L. J. Evans
It also made me realize that I didn’t see the Coast Guard part of Eli as being the main part of him. I’d never seen it as the biggest piece of him. It was a job. A job he loved, but it was just that. It wasn’t who he was, so they couldn’t have taken any of that from him, after all.
“You said there was good?” I asked him.
“My minor at A&M had to do with emergency planning. Stan knows a guy, Phil, who runs a private consulting firm that assists local, state, and federal agencies with emergency readiness. Phil works closely with the Coast Guard, which is how he knows Stan. Stan arranged for me to have an interview with him. It’s tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful!” I said.
“It’s in California.”
I realized, then, why the good was still the bad. On top of giving up the thing he loved most, he was having to go away again. He was leaving behind his mom, and Leena, and Truck. He was leaving me. “You’re going away.”
He nodded.
“Wow.”
“If he offers me the job, I’ll have to stay in California, at least for a while. There’ll be training, and I’ll have a lot to learn. The good thing is that he has offices all over the country, pretty much anywhere a Coast Guard station is at.”
“You’d still get to work closely with the people you love,” I said softly.
“Yes.”
I was sad and hopeful for him. He’d lost the thing he’d wanted most in life, and yet he was trying to reassemble it into something that wasn’t a complete redo. Something that allowed him to stay close to the thing he’d loved first.
I put my head on his shoulder, and we just sat there, on the steps, in the sunshine, tangled together. I tried to figure out what all of this meant for our love story. For the story that I’d said didn’t matter how it ended as long as we’d loved, but now I was doubting my own words. I wanted more. I wanted a true ending.
I didn’t want the story to end with just I love yous.
Back in New London, we’d said we weren’t giving up on us. That we each had to figure out what was next, and then we’d figure out how “the next” would also include “us.” I still hoped that we could do that. I hoped that more distance between us, more time apart, and the breaks inside us both wouldn’t destroy the fragile relationship we’d started to put together.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Eli
DIE A HAPPY MAN
“If I never get to see the Northern lights
Or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night
Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand
Baby, I could die a happy man.”
—Performed by Thomas Rhett
—Written by Spargur / Douglas / Rhett
I sat on the steps of the school with Ava wrapped in my arms, and let her love and compassion hold me up while I grieved. My gut was twisted in pain. I’d known in my heart what was coming, but now, being slapped with it in reality, it was like I’d lost it all over again.
The word “discharged” was still ringing in my ears. It was all the more bitter because it was my own failure that had caused it. I wished that weren’t true. I wished I’d thought for two more seconds before jumping in the goddamn water with the seal, but I hadn’t. And now, no matter my physical strength, I would always have a knee that was barely screwed together. And that knee would have interfered with my ability to perform my duties in the future. The review board had simply spoken the truth.
And that truth was tearing at me. I was familiar with loss, but it didn’t make it any easier each time I encountered it. The anguish that existed not only for that moment, but for all the future moments that would never come to be.
The feel of Ava tucked up next to me reminded me that I had a reason to move forward. For her. For us. I’d handle this defeat as I handled all my defeats: by making a plan. By not letting the rips dismember me. Once upon a time, those next steps had been toward the Coast Guard, and now they were steps away.
I hadn’t told Ava the full story, the things that were spinning in my head about the interview, and Phil’s company, us, and Texas. I wasn’t sure I could make it all happen, so I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Having my hopes up was hard enough, because I wasn’t sure I could handle yet another blow.
First things first, I had to see if Phil would hire me. Stan had thought it was basically a done deal, but I couldn’t count on that. If Phil did take me on, I’d have to prove that I was good at this new job before I could make my own demands. Once I had, then I might—just might—be able to work on that true ending Ava had talked about this morning.
The thought of this morning and her “I love you” brought me away from the abyss of my grief a little further. It brought me to the other plans I’d made while , waiting for the review board’s decision.
“I want to take you out,” I told her. “I want to spend tonight with you. I don’t want it to be in your dorm or my apartment. Pack a bag?”
She looked up into my eyes, and I hated what I saw there. That she was afraid that my leaving would end in goodbye. After I’d just said I loved her. After she’d just said she loved me. After we’d promised back in New London, that we wouldn’t give up on us. It reminded me that Ava hadn’t had anyone but Jenna stick by her for the long haul. That I had to prove to her that I was going to be there, too.
I stood up, pulling her with me. I looked down and kissed her gently, reassuringly, trying to convince her with my body that she seemed to listen to more than my words. We weren’t done. This door closing was just that—a door. The house hadn’t collapsed in on us.
I needed to believe that myself.
We went up to her room, and while she packed a bag, Brady assessed me again. He seemed to do it every time we were in the same room together. I liked that she had another person looking after her. I wasn’t sure Ava understood that yet—how many people she did have, even if she didn’t have her parents.
“I’ve never seen you in your uniform,” he said.
“I haven’t been on duty with the leg.” I didn’t tell him that I’d never wear it again. It hurt too much to say it. I couldn’t. Not yet.
He nodded. “She’s been a nervous wreck today. I’ve never seen her like that.”
I’d sensed it, too. I didn’t respond. What was I going to say?
He stepped away from the counter he was leaning on to move closer so he could speak quieter. “If you hurt her, I have friends. Friends that are quite used to leaving people in dark alleys in need of more surgery than you went through.”
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. “I’m pulling together all the strings I can so that I can make her dreams come true. Are you?”
That seemed to catch him off guard that I was throwing it back at him. “I’m doing my best. For both of us. But she keeps telling me she doesn’t want it.”
I nodded. Brady and I both knew that she said her goals had changed along the way, that she’d grown out of that old skin, like I’d suddenly been forced out of mine. I just didn’t want her to give it up unless she was absolutely sure that old skin didn’t fit anymore, because I knew how badly it hurt. I was living it at that very moment.
“Then we’re both on the same page.” It was all I could respond back.
Ava came from her room, bag slung over her shoulder. I took the bag from her and threw it over my own. She seemed ready to protest, but Brady’s proximity to me distracted her. She looked between us to see what had gone down, but neither of us was ready to share.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she told Brady.
“Sounds good. Have fun,” he said to her. To me, he just nodded. I returned the motion and then took Ava’s hand and led her from the dorm room.
When we got downstairs, I had a car already waiting for us. After we got in, Ava turned to me. “Where are we going?”
“Patience.”
She shoved my shoulder gently. When the car stopped outside The Carlyle ho
tel and the doorman opened the door for us, Ava frowned. I grabbed both our bags from the trunk, took her hand again, and led her inside.
It was an expensive splurge, not something I was used to doing. I couldn’t normally afford five-star hotels in New York City. It wasn’t something I could do often, and without a job at the moment, it was something I really shouldn’t be doing at all. But I was doing it. For us. For this night together.
“Eli.” Ava pulled on me as we neared the registration desk. I looked down into her beautiful face, her eyes that I adored full of worry. “Why are we here? This is…it’s too much.”
I kissed her forehead. “Tonight, it’s not.”
I led her to the desk; we registered, got a key, and took the elevator up. It was a small room, just a queen bed. It wasn’t their most expensive, but it was still nicer than most places I’d stayed. It was a place where I could make love to her later and know that I’d given her the best I could for one night.
I put the bags down and pulled her close. A hug. Wrapping her in my arms. She slid her hands under my uniform jacket at the back, her warmth spreading through me.
“I’m going to go change really quick, but then we have somewhere else to be.”
“Wait. What?” she asked, confusion causing her face to wrinkle.
I brushed at the wrinkles. “Did you think that I was going to hole you up in the room and make love to you all night?”
“Um.”
I smiled. “Later. We have time for that later.”
I unbuttoned my jacket, and a sudden heaviness filled my heart as I did it…removing it for the last time. I left it on the bed before grabbing some clothes out of my bag and heading into the bathroom. Normally, I would have just changed in front of her, but I needed a minute to get a hold of myself as I discarded my old life for a new one that was just a hazy cloud on the horizon.
In the bathroom mirror, I took in the image of myself. My heart was pounding, and my body was aching. What I noticed was that my hair didn’t fit the uniform anymore. Too long. Too not military. I should have had it cut, but a haircut wouldn’t have saved me. I swallowed hard, fighting the sting in my eyes as I took the rest of my uniform off. I folded the pieces, placing them on the counter, the folds like the flag they’d gathered and given to my mom at my dad’s funeral. So final.
The permanence of it all hit me. I stood in my underwear, hands on the counter, fighting for control. Fighting off the waves of emotions coursing through me, the waves threatening to pour from my eyes. I splashed water on my face to combat the storm.
I must have taken too long, because Ava knocked at the door. Maybe she could feel the heartache I was trying to shield her from through the walls. “Eli?”
“Yes.” My response was garbled. Choked. She heard it. I knew she did.
“Can I come in?”
I hesitated but then reached over and pushed the handle down. She came in with my jacket in her hands. She was fingering my uniform ribbons, the ones I’d worked so hard to earn. She touched my bare arm and looked up at me, beautiful, with her hair swinging about her chin, the dress she wore showing off her curves and her bare arms.
She was my light. A light in my storm. She was still guiding me through, and I was battling to get to her, my sea nymph calling me home. My own personal aurora borealis.
Her eyes drew me just as they had the first time we’d met. This time, her eyes were full of tears. Her husky voice was full of sorrow when she spoke. “I’m so sorry that you lost this dream of yours.”
I couldn’t stop my own tears, but I closed my eyes, trying to battle against them. They slid from the corners, anyway, pain radiating from me. My pain for me and for the pain I was causing her.
“You don’t want your mom hiding the bad from you, so don’t hide the bad from me,” she said quietly. I opened my eyes and watched as she set my jacket on top of the folded pile. Then she forced her way between me and the sink, wrapping her arms around me.
She looked up into my face, brushing at my tears, bringing the wetness to her lips. “The pain is mine to bear with you. Together.”
I pulled her tight, burying my face in her hair and her neck, letting her hold me up while I said goodbye to the thing I’d loved for as long as I could remember. Let the tears roll over both of us.
Slowly, I fought and won control of the emotions. I reminded myself that I had something new I was working toward. It was bigger than the dream I’d ever had of the Coast Guard. It was a life that would let me keep Ava at my side—if she’d have me.
I pushed away the tears, kissed her lips gently, and said, “I love you.”
She smiled at me. The smile was weak and unsure, not because she was unsure of our love, but because she was unsure of my mood. I matched her smile with my own. It was forced. She knew it was forced, but it was the only way that I could get through. I returned my focus to her and the plans I was making, not only for our future, but for our day.
“Let me get dressed before I decide that all my other arrangements for today can go to hell and I undress you instead,” I told her.
She moved out of my arms, taking my jacket and my folded clothes with her as she left. I slipped into my jeans and my T-shirt—into my civilian clothes. The only thing that I would be now. A normal citizen. When I came out, she was shutting the door on the closet where she’d placed my uniform in my duffle.
Door closed. I couldn’t go back. It hurt like nothing had hurt since I’d lost my dad. It hurt like I wasn’t going to be able to breathe, but I’d make it through. With Ava and my family. With Mac and Truck. They’d all help me through. I was lucky. I had them all to hold me up when I couldn’t hold myself.
I grabbed Ava’s hand and led her out the door.
When we stepped outside the hotel, the typical noise of New York City greeted us, slightly quieter near the hotel where residences intermixed with the commercial. I’d already memorized the path from the hotel to our next stop while I was on my way to Juilliard. She seemed happy to walk with me, our hands and arms tangled together in such a way that it seemed that we took one step together for every step we took apart, slowly melding our lives like our bodies wanted, like I was hoping our futures would be.
We crossed the street in front of The Met, heading toward the huge steps, and she looked up at me with curious eyes. “I didn’t really take you for a museum guy.”
I wasn’t. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in a museum, but after we’d hung up this morning while I was driving, my brain had gone to Ava’s penchant for quotes. For her ability to pull the right ones out of her head at all the right moments. That had made me think of an essay I’d done in my art history class back at A&M. It had been on maritime art, and the words that had been the driving force behind one particular painting were swimming in my head. It had me Googling the painting once I’d gotten to the station and had been sitting in the chairs waiting for my hearing. I’d been stunned to find the painting on loan to The Met. That had me making the plans for our day even before I’d seen Stan or heard the medical review board’s decision.
At the entrance, I paid the fee for us to get in. Once we’d gotten our wristbands and had gone through security, I tugged her in the direction of the American Expeditions exhibit that was on display through June. We wandered into and around the exhibit, stopping here and there as something caught her attention or mine, until I spotted the painting on a back wall. We moved closer, and in the final steps, I turned so that I could block her vision of it, wrapping her in my arms and looking down into her eyes that reflected so many different versions of the water that I loved.
“Are you ready?” I asked her. Semper paratus…my heart heaved. I could still live by the motto even though I was no longer part of the unit. Being ready wasn’t just for the Coast Guard.
She seemed to sense my reaction to my own words, because she teased, “Is this a test?”
I smiled and turned her so that her back was up ag
ainst my chest, and so she could see the Frederic Edwin Church painting that I’d written my essay on years ago. It was as if that prior version of myself had inherently known that I would need it at some point in my life. It had meant something to me back then. Now, it meant more. The title on the plaque below it swam before my eyes for a moment: Aurora Borealis.
I felt rather than heard her intake of breath as we both stared at the painting. The sky full of streaks of color over an ocean where a lone ship sailed into safe harbor.
I leaned so I could whisper into her ear the words that I’d memorized today so that I could give her one quote for the hundreds she’d given to others. “Church painted this after his friend, Hayes, had described the northern lights for him. Hayes said, ‘The light grew by degrees more and more intense. From irregular bursts it settled into an almost steady sheet of brightness... at first tame and quiet, it became, in the end, startling in its brilliancy.’ That’s you. No longer tame and quiet, you are the brilliance filling my world. I’m the ship. You’re the skies. And the only place I’ll ever have safe harbor is with you spreading your light on me. This painting…it’s us.”
I felt her body convulse, a silent cry going through her. I squeezed tighter, turning her back to face me again so that I could see her face and the tears that spilled out from her closed lids and down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” I asked, wiping inadequately at the tears, with my own emotions barely contained, with my tears threatening to join her own.
“You. You’re beautiful,” she said.
“So beautiful that I make you cry?” I tried to tease, tried to lighten both of our moods.
She rested her forehead on my chest while she fought for control just like I had back at the hotel. I rubbed her back. “I’m afraid that we won’t be able to figure it out—our lives and how they can fit together,” she finally said quietly.