Waiting for the Storm

by Marie Landry

  “Hey, you,” he said, his eyes sparkling with a warmth and affection that nearly killed me. My heart rate sped up as he drew closer, and I had the sudden urge to just sit down on the grass and burst into tears. “Was that my aunt that just dropped you off? Did you guys finally have your lunch together?”

  He was in front of me now and he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. My arms felt so heavy I couldn’t lift them to put around him, so they hung limply at my sides. He noticed almost instantly, and pulled back. When he saw my expression—or lack of expression—his face fell.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His concern only made things worse. I didn’t want to be angry and hurt, but I was.

  “Lilah told you about my mom.” It was a statement rather than a question, and his voice was flat, hollow.

  “She didn’t mean to,” I whispered. “Don’t be mad at her.”

  His eyes darkened slightly as they bored into mine, likely trying to gauge how I was feeling or what I was thinking since I wasn’t giving anything away. “It’s my own fault, I guess,” he said at last. “I told her I would tell you, and she trusted me to do it.”

  “Trust is a funny thing.” I went to move past him, but he gripped my shoulders, holding me in place.

  “Will you let me explain? I need to explain.” The set of his mouth was hard and determined, and two deep lines had appeared between his brows. I wanted to reach up and smooth them out, but I didn’t. I simply nodded, and he took my hand, leading me over to the swing at the side of my house. We sat in silence for a few moments, and I knew he was trying to collect his thoughts.

  Finally he turned to me, bending one knee up on the swing between us so it pressed against the length of my thigh. My body chose right then to betray me by starting to tingle the way it always did when Ezra and I touched.

  “After my dad died, my mom became really depressed. Lilah and I figured it was natural at first, you know? Even though my dad was a terrible person, Mom still loved him for god knows what reason, and his death was so sudden. We tried our best to help her and give her time to grieve. But it was more than that.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair the way he used to do when it was too long and would fall in his face.

  “She stopped leaving the house,” he continued, the lines between his brows deepening. “She didn’t want to see anyone but Lilah and me. She got worse and worse, and we finally convinced her to go to the doctor. He put her on medication and told me if things didn’t improve he should check her into the hospital—the psych ward. Mom begged me not to do that, so I promised I wouldn’t. I’ve been taking care of her ever since. Nobody knows except Lilah and Hank.

  “There’s this place in Kingston, this long-term care facility for people like my mom. They have around-the-clock care, they feed them, give them their meds, and rehabilitate them. That’s why I’ve been working so hard and taking whatever jobs I can find—I need the money to send her there and keep her there for as long as she needs, but…it’s expensive. Lilah’s offered to help, but I keep turning her down. I guess part of me always hoped Mom would get better on her own, but I know now that she won’t. It’s not possible.”

  I stared down at my hands in my lap and tried to process everything he’d just told me. I was stuck on the depression part. ‘After my dad died, my mom became really depressed.’ Was that what was wrong with Dad? What if he ended up like Ezra’s mom?

  Ezra shifted beside me, and I knew I had to focus on one thing at a time.

  “Were you ever going to tell me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said emphatically. “I was, I swear.”

  “When?” I titled my head and finally met his eyes. “When Ezra? I’ve been here a month. We’ve been together almost every day. We were away together, alone, for twenty-four hours straight.” The anger I’d tried to convince myself I wasn’t feeling suddenly bubbled up, and my voice began to rise with each word. “I’ve told you everything. Things I never told anyone else, things I was embarrassed to admit. I’ve poured my heart and soul out to you, ripped my freaking guts open and exposed everything to you, good and bad. I’ve trusted you the way I never trusted anyone before. I even started to fall…” I cut myself off, closing my eyes tightly and turning away.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte.” Ezra’s voice was a mixture of desperation and pleading. “I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how. It’s not something you can just blurt out, you know?”

  “But you’ve had a whole month!” I cried. “We talked about everything. You told me your other secrets, why couldn’t you tell me this?”

  He hung his head. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t find the words.”

  “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

  “No.” His head snapped up and his gaze burned into mine. “That’s not it at all. I trust you completely, I just—”

  “You obviously don’t, or you would have found a way to tell me,” I interrupted him. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run far and fast and not have to look at his sad, earnest eyes, or feel the warmth from his body. “I trusted you,” I told him, somehow finding the strength to stand. “But I don’t think I can anymore. How can I know you’re not hiding something else from me? How can I know that you would omit something this huge and not wonder if omissions could turn to lies? I have enough shit to deal with where my dad and sister are concerned, I can’t have someone in my life who doesn’t trust me and who I can’t trust. I’m sorry.”

  I couldn’t see his expression through the tears that blurred my vision, and as I turned away from him I was grateful for that. I was afraid one more pleading look from those beautiful eyes would be my undoing.

  I had thought I’d felt betrayed when my two best friends abandoned me, but it was nothing compared to the pain I felt now. I didn’t want to think about why that might be; I just wanted to put distance between Ezra and me, so I did.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I expected Ezra to come after me, but was glad when he didn’t. I ran into the house, past my dad, who was lounging on the couch, and up to my room. I threw myself onto the bed and closed my eyes, praying for sleep to take me and let me just forget for a while. I didn’t think I’d get my wish, but I did. When I woke up, it was ten o’clock and the sun was down.

  I sat up in bed, pulling my knees up to my chin. I wanted to pretend the hollow ache hadn’t returned to my chest, but I couldn’t. It was insistent, and it throbbed with every beat of my heart. I wished my mother were here; she would know what to say and do to comfort me. A small part of me wondered if I was overreacting to this whole thing, and I knew Mom would have given me her honest opinion.

  She would probably tell me to put myself in Ezra’s shoes. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I would have done in his situation. I truly believed that no matter how hard it was, no matter how embarrassed I might be, I would want to share it with someone who cared about me. If our positions were reversed, I would have trusted Ezra. I did trust Ezra. I really had poured my heart and soul out to him and told him things I’d never told anyone else. That was part of what hurt most.

  I leaned back against my headboard and listened to the sounds of the beach coming alive. There was a flickering light that I was sure was the nightly bonfire, and faint voices carried in on the breeze. I glanced at my clock again and knew Ezra would probably be getting a call soon to pick up Adam. I debated going out to his car and waiting for him, but it was too soon to talk to him.

  I moved to the window seat and sank down on the cushions, looking out over the sill. I could just make out the outline of Ezra’s body sitting behind our sand hill. He must have been waiting for me, hoping I’d show. I felt a twinge of regret, but I just couldn’t face him yet. He shifted, and I wondered if he could sense me watching, but a second later his phone glowed in the darkness, and he got to his feet.

  His shoulders were hunched as he walked slowly across the beach, glancing up at my house every few steps. He hesitated by the porch stairs, and I swear I coul
d hear him sigh before he continued on and disappeared around the side of the house. The engine of the Impala roared to life, and idled…one minute…two minutes…three minutes before he pulled out of the driveway and drove away.

  He had waited for me.

  The knowledge made my heart ache even more.

  *****

  I sat in my room for a while, but I couldn’t get my mind to focus on anything. I reread the same few lines in my book over and over, then attempted to write a review for the last book I read, but I felt like I was speaking a foreign language I wasn’t aware I knew.

  Finally I slipped on my flip flops and headed out back. I found Miranda and Kennedy almost immediately, and joined them near the bonfire. Kennedy asked if I wanted a drink, and I didn’t even hesitate when I said yes.

  “You look like you could use one,” Miranda said dryly when Kennedy went off toward the ice tub filled with drinks.

  From what I’d gathered, about once a week everyone pitched in and brought a bunch of booze and one of the kids on the beach kept it at his place to bring out every night. I had no idea where or how they got it, and it always kind of shocked me to see a group of kids who didn’t get hammered with all the alcohol available to them on a nightly basis.

  Maybe that was why though—it wasn’t a novelty and it wasn’t taboo. The adults in these houses had to know what went on every night. There really was something to be said for trust.

  “Rough day,” I told her.

  She bobbed her head and regarded me with a serious expression. “I’m not one to pry…oh hell, who am I kidding, I totally am…” She shrugged, her smile a bit self-deprecating. “I saw Ezra earlier and he looked like he’d lost his best friend. Now I see you and you look like you lost your best friend. So…as much as I want to pry and beg you to spill, I won’t. I just want you to know I’m here if you need to talk.”

  I smiled weakly at her. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.” She nodded again and touched my arm lightly before turning to greet Kennedy and accept a bottle of beer from her.

  I thanked her when she handed me a vodka cooler. I didn’t usually drink anything stronger than beer, but I decided if ever there were a time to make an exception, tonight would be it.

  I half-listened to Miranda and Kennedy as they chattered away, but my mind kept wandering to what Miranda had said: Ezra looked like he’d lost his best friend, and so did I. It never would have occurred to me before, but I guess Ezra had become my best friend.

  Despite the fact I had feelings for him that seemed to grow by the day, he really had been an amazing friend. He’d listened attentively, made me laugh, got me to open up. We were obviously physically attracted to each other, but he didn’t try to get in my pants the way other guys had in the past.

  So what did that prove? That he respected me, but he didn’t trust me enough to share his big secret with me until he was forced to?

  I almost groaned out loud in frustration, but managed to rein it in at the last second. Miranda kept shooting me furtive glances like she was afraid I’d fall apart any second. As much as I wanted to fall apart, I couldn’t; what would happen to Dad and Ella then? Even though it felt like they didn’t need me, I was afraid that without me they’d just drift along aimlessly.

  I stayed out with Miranda and Kennedy until the fire died down and kids started to wander home. Miranda asked if I wanted to come spend the night at her house, but I wasn’t up for it. I thanked her and promised we’d do it some other night.

  As I walked home, it hit me that Miranda and Kennedy’s friendship had been as unexpected as Ezra’s. From that first night when Miranda had stood up to Ella, she and Kennedy had been slowly chipping away at my defenses and letting me know in subtle ways that they were here for me. It had been so long since I’d had friends, I guess I’d forgotten what it was like, and what it meant to be a friend as well as have them.

  Back in my room, with my mind a little clearer, I was able to read some of my book. I kept an ear out for Ezra’s car, and finally heard him return around four o’clock. It felt weird to know he’d been out and I hadn’t been with him. I wondered who he’d taken home, and if he’d sat in the diner alone between calls. A huge part of me wanted nothing more than to fly down the stairs and outside, throw myself into his arms, and tell him we’d work things out.

  But the other part of me, the part that had been angry for so long about so many things, reasoned that if I couldn’t trust him, where could our friendship—or our relationship—really go?

  It was too late to think about this. I didn’t want to think about it. I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed, not really expecting to sleep, but determined to try anyway. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed my hand under the cool pillow, finding the sweater Ezra loaned me that night on the ferry.

  I left it there and rolled over, but once I knew it was there I couldn’t think of anything else. I pulled it out and buried my face in it, inhaling deeply. It still smelled like him, and it annoyed me that his scent, even faded, made my heart flutter in my chest.

  It all came back to trust. I’d trusted him enough to tell him about my family, my mother, my feelings. I’d trusted him enough to take him into my home and fall asleep with him after almost a year of being unable to sleep at night. Even though I’d been afraid to admit it to myself, I’d even trusted him with my heart. I’d slowly fallen for him over the past month, and unless I was way off—which I didn’t think I was—he had fallen for me, too. Maybe that was the worst part.

  *****

  I knew it was cowardly, but I did a lot of hiding out over the next few days. I was grateful that Ezra was finished working on the porch so I didn’t have to avoid leaving my own house. I continued to volunteer at the library, but instead of coming home for lunch I packed a sandwich and some fruit, and ate alone down by the water.

  Each evening when I got home, I made dinner—still enough for three, even though Dad and Ella ate when I wasn’t around. It occurred to me that the reason I rarely saw Ezra during the late afternoon and evening was because he was shut up in his house taking care of his mom. He probably cooked for her, made sure she ate, and kept her company until she fell asleep.

  The more I thought about it, the more I was sure I wasn’t overreacting. He’d been hiding a huge part of his life from me for weeks, and that wasn’t okay no matter how you looked at it. I felt like there was a slow burning anger simmering away in my belly all the time, waiting to explode, and I hated it. I didn’t want to feel that way; I didn’t want that rage and hurt and heartache, but it wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried.

  I wasn’t able to avoid Ezra all the time, though. Our houses were right next door to each other, after all, and I ran into him a few times. He appeared pale and exhausted, and when he looked at me with those haunted, tortured eyes, I wanted to scream or cry or completely cave in. But I didn’t do any of those things.

  We would stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he would bow his head and carry on. At first I wondered why he wasn’t saying anything, why he wasn’t fighting for our friendship or our relationship or whatever the hell there was between us, but then I realized he was trying to respect me by giving me space.

  After dinner every night I went up to my room and fell asleep. I would wake up just after ten and listen to Ezra’s car idle in the driveway. It felt like my internal alarm clock was in tune with Ezra, and I hated my body for this small betrayal. Why couldn’t I sleep until he was gone so I didn’t have to live with the knowledge that even though we weren’t speaking, he still waited for me every night?

  My brain started whirring the second I woke up. Once my body caught up to it, I’d head outside and find Miranda and Kennedy. If they wondered why I was suddenly around every night, they never mentioned it. I had a feeling Miranda had said something to Kennedy and urged her to keep her mouth shut, otherwise I’m sure Kennedy would have wanted all the details.

  I would stay until the bonfire was put out each night. Mi
randa and Kennedy always left shortly afterwards, so I would go home too, do a bit of work, and then go to bed. I continued to sleep with Ezra’s sweatshirt, even though his scent faded after the second night. It seemed to help me sleep, and even if it was all in my mind, at least I was able to fall asleep before sunrise each morning.

  One night after the bonfire had been put out and Miranda and Kennedy said goodnight, I realized I wasn’t ready to go sit alone in my room. I wandered over to the sand hill and sank down behind it. I hadn’t been able to sit there since Ezra and I stopped talking. Even though it had started out as my spot, it had quickly morphed into our spot, and it felt wrong without him.

  I sat and stared out at the water. It seemed oddly choppy considering the hour and the fact that no boats were around. It still hadn’t rained, but the air seemed damp in a way it hadn’t felt since I’d arrived on the island.

  I was contemplating heading inside when I heard someone running across the beach. I sank down further in the sand and peeked around the hill, but couldn’t see anyone. The person’s erratic footsteps faltered, and they fell with a loud grunt. A few moments passed in silence, and I was about to get up when I heard quiet sobbing.

  It had been a long time since I’d heard that sound, but I knew it belonged to my sister.

  I leaped up and scanned the beach, finding Ella crumpled in the sand thirty feet away. I ran to her and knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. Her entire body was shaking, and when she looked up at me, her face was streaked black from her mascara and eyeliner. My eyes swept over her and I saw she was holding up the flimsy strap of her dress.

  “What happened?” I asked frantically.

  Ella shook her head, and her body trembled with a fresh wave of sobs.

  Tears prickled my eyes. I sat down and scooped her into my arms, cradling her head against my chest. “You need to tell me what happened.” My voice was shaking, and I realized my hands were shaking too. I gripped Ella tighter, and was surprised when she let me.