There’s been temptations for both of us. I can honestly say for myself I’ve never acted on any of the advances I’ve received from guys over the course of these last four years. Ethan swears to me every day that he’s remained faithful to me, even though it’s extremely hard to believe. I’ve watched so many couples try to make long distance work and in the end, most them crashed and burned due to one or the other cheating after a night of too much partying. I believe Ethan. He’s always allowed me to have access to all his social media never keeping anything from me. Which helped greatly with me not feeling so insecure about him being in Chicago and me in Boston.
Somehow we’ve found a way to make it work. We beat the odds and are ready to take the next step in our lives together.
How we survived four years living pretty much separate lives I’ll never know. Every time I’d have one reason why we shouldn’t work and why we should walk away from each other, there’d be all the reasons why we should fight to make it work and it always helped us get through the tough times.
He’s also graduating this weekend so he wasn’t able be here today for my ceremony, but he’s flying in Monday and then driving with me to Osterville to my grandparents’ beach house for my graduation celebration.
“Let’s take one last selfie together.” Holding my phone out in front of us we all cram together as we try to fit everyone in the picture. “To best friends and the best memories!” I shout before smiling. Everyone shouts around me before striking their best pose, and I snap the picture. We do one more making silly faces before finally shuffling out of the aisle and parting ways as we try to find our family who’ve come to watch us all graduate today.
I spot my mom and dad immediately. I break into a run as I sprint across the grass toward my parents. Seeing their familiar faces lifts my spirits. I noticed my crazy father while up on stage as he stood up waving at me and whistling as he snapped a million pictures of me receiving my diploma. No words can explain how it feels to graduate from the school my parents attended together and fell in love at. The day I received my acceptance letter was one of the rare occasions I witnessed my father cry. Of course, he claimed he had allergies as his eyes watered and he rubbed at them. But the amused smirk on my mother’s lips let me know she wasn’t buying it any more than I was.
“Congratulations, sweetheart! We are so proud of you!” my father says joyfully as he wraps me into a hug and lifts my feet off the ground.
A slight squeal escapes my lips
My father towers over me by a good foot, and he’s built like a house. All from the years of sailing and working on fishing boats he’s had. His eyes sparkle down at me as the lines from age and the years in the sun crinkle around the corners of his eyes.
“Thanks, Daddy.” I giggle as I hook my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek.
As soon as my feet reach the ground once again as my father finally releases me from his embrace, I turn to my mom who’s holding a bouquet of flowers and a card. “The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.” Reaching out I take the flowers and bring them to my nose and inhale deeply.
My mother wraps me in a hug and holds me as she cries softly into my black curls that are pulled into a side ponytail at the nape of my neck. “I’m so proud of you, honey. I know if Grandma and Grandpa could be here right now they’d tell you the same thing.”
Tears sting my eyes at the mention of my grandparents. My grandfather who was my hero growing up passed away two years ago from pancreatic cancer. My grandmother passed away a few short months later in her sleep. They said it was a massive heart attack and that she felt no pain—I felt deep in the pit of my belly that she died from a broken heart.
Like my parents, my grandparents shared a love so strong that even after sixty years of marriage they still walked along the beach holding hands, and my grandfather would write her the sweetest little love notes every day. I use to love when I slept over on occasions, waking up and searching with my grandmother for her love note. During the spring, he’d leave a flower from the garden with the sweet note proclaiming his love for her. In the summer, she’d find tiny sea shells from the shore lying with one.
In her bedroom still lies a trunk filled with her gifts she collected over the sixty years they spent together. Dried flowers, sea shells, lace gloves, brooches and many other trinkets he collected on his trips for her.
It’s going to be hard returning to their house. My mother inherited it after my grandmother passed. Her and my father use it as a summer home and live up in the suburbs of Cape Cod closer to my father’s office. He took over my grandfather’s business, and since his passing my father’s managed to make it grow bigger and more successful which is an astounding accomplishment, especially during these difficult economic times.
“I miss them so much. I’d give anything to have them here,” I confess softly as my mother releases me and backs away before forcing a smile across her perfectly red painted lips.
My mother is beautiful. With the same violet colored eyes as me and raven black hair, her skin is flawless making her look more like my sister rather than my mother. We inherited the olive colored skin and dark hair from my grandfather. But our mystical violet eyes that my father claims bewitched him the moment he saw my mother that day out front of their American literature class, we got from my grandmother.
“No more tears or sad talk from here on out. You hear me, ladies?” My father tells us matter-of-factly as he drapes his arms across our shoulders and walks us toward my group of friends who have gathered a few feet away taking pictures in their cap and gowns.
“Deal,” I laugh as I blink up at him pushing my tears away. “Now let’s go take the gazillion pictures I know you’re dying to take, Daddy.”
With the last boxes in our arms, Sophie, Ethan, and I make our way down the stairs of my apartment to my Kia Sorento parked out front.
I give the apartment one more quick glance before shoving the box into to back of my car.
I’ve shared this apartment with Sophie and Talen for the last two years. I didn’t think I’d be this sad leaving my best friend and the place we’ve called home since the beginning of our junior year.
Sophie already has two new roommates lined up to take over the now two vacant rooms now that Talen is back in Arizona and I’m heading to Chicago next week.
“Well, that’s the last of it.” Slamming the tailgate shut, Ethan looks from me to Sophie before settling his cobalt blue eyes back onto me. Shoving his hand into the pocket of his jeans he pulls my keys out. “I’m going to wait for you in the car…give you two a chance to say goodbye to one another.” He gives us a sympathetic smile before disappearing around the side of the car.
As soon as we hear the drivers side door shut, Sophie lets her shoulders sag. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving. You can still change your mind you know.”
Her words come out slow and filled with sadness. We’ve had this coverslip a few times over the last few weeks leading up to graduation. She doesn’t understand with Ethan having a degree in sports broadcasting why he insists on us settling down in Chicago. Massachusetts is the home of the Red Socks, the Boston Celtics, New England Patriots and the Boston Bruins. I tried to explain to her that Chicago is where he wants to be. He was offered a great position broadcasting the sports for the biggest news station in Chicago thanks to his father who’s an ex-NFL player. He’s now retired but has a lot of connections in the sports world.
I can find a graphic design job anywhere. He can’t find an opportunity like this in just any city with a starting salary like they’re offering him.
“I promise to come see you see you every time I fly in to visit my parents. You’re going to be so busy chasing a classroom full of four-year-olds I doubt you’ll even have time to miss me.”
Rolling her eyes, she blows a puff of air out between her lips that pressed into a straight line across her face. “All I know is you better not throw your dreams away once you get out to that stupid Wi
ndy City, rushing into marrying him and popping out a dozen kids. I expect to see you working for one of the richest Fortune 500 companies designing their brilliant and million-dollar deal worthy advertising.”
That’s another conversation we had recently. Whether I thought Ethan would be popping the big question soon. Especially since he asked me to move to Chicago and be with him.
I don’t know what Ethan wants or where our relationship is going. We spent the first two years of our relationship as young, hormonal teenagers, and then the last four years as lovers who saw each other during school holidays and summer breaks. We’ve never had a real relationship with trials and tribulations that would make me say—Yes, this is my soul mate and the man I want to grow old with.
I’m terrified about picking up everything and moving. But it’s what you do when you love someone. I love Ethan. I think with time I’ll fall even more in love with him. Waving my hands in the air, I laugh nervously, “No marriage or kids for Ethan and me for a very long time!”
The sound of the car horn beeping causes us both to jump.
“Sorry to rush you, Lucy, but we really gotta get on the road,” Ethan shouts at us from the car.
“Ughh. I really hate you right now, Luce.” Sophie stomps toward me with her arms outstretched and a pout on her face.
“Stop it before you make me cry and ruin my makeup. I’ll text you the entire car ride home. It’ll be as if I haven’t even left.”
We hug each other goodbye and then I reluctantly climb into the passenger seat and watch as Boston slowly disappears in the side mirror.
Ethan laces his fingers with mine, brings our entwined hands up to his mouth before pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re coming with me to Chicago. You’re going to love it. I promise.”
Turning my head to face him, I give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I can’t wait.” As the words leave my mouth I find myself feeling icky inside because I just lied to the man I love. Inside I’m a bundle of nerves as the reality of what I’m about to do sinks in.
CHAPTER TWO
My party is finally coming to an end as I say goodnight to the house full of relatives. My parents went all out with a Great Gatsby themed party—Jazz band and all. My parents transformed the entire backyard into a magical oasis with tables decorated in crystal vases overflowing with flowers and glasses filled with only the finest champagne.
It’s still too cold to use the pool, but it didn’t stop people from kicking off their shoes and dipping their toes into the water.
My mother took me shopping in Boston last month for my birthday, and while out we purchased our dresses for tonight’s celebration. She collected them from the boutique after leaving my graduation since we needed them altered slightly.
My dress fits me like a glove. I knew the moment Ethan saw me in it he liked what he saw because before we could make my official entrance to my party he had to have me one more time.
It’s red with black beading decorating every inch of the flapper style dress, and black fringe hanging past my skirt stopping just above my knee. The front dips low revealing my nice sized cleavage I was thankfully blessed with. The back dips even lower coming to rest just above the swell of my butt. My hair is pulled up into a low ponytail with my curls pinned up resting just above my shoulders. I completed the look with a black beaded headband that’s donning a small black feather and red ruby jewel.
I felt as if I’d fallen into the movie itself and would find Leonardo DiCaprio himself lounging poolside in my backyard sipping from a glass of champagne when I saw my completed look in my antique floor mirror in my bedroom.
My mother’s party planner did a magnificent job. The party has surpassed my wildest expectations and if possible made me fall even more in love with this place. Every New Years’ my grandparents would throw lavish parties for their Cape Cod socialite friends, and my parents have continued that tradition. Every year is a new theme. When I was thirteen years old they did a roaring twenties party. It was breathtaking seeing their house transformed before my eyes as caterers and party planners scurried about. There’s a photograph sitting on the mantel in the great room from that night of my parents, grandparents, and me all together. It reminded me of when you go to the fair and dress up for the old-time photos. I thought it was the most fantastic party we’d ever thrown. When my mom asked me what I wanted to do for my graduation party I knew immediately a Great Gatsby inspired celebration was exactly what we needed to have. So I could sit by the band, sip my martini and close my eyes, allowing myself to transport back in time even for only a few moments to when I had all my favorite people in the world around me.
That’s the only thing missing tonight to make this evening perfect. It breaks my heart that my grandparents are not here to witness me graduate or be by my side to celebrate the accomplishment with me.
Just before heading downstairs to join my family and kick off the party, I stopped by my grandmother’s room…which still looks as it did the day she passed. I know we’ll have to pack up her things soon enough, but I’m still not ready to say goodbye to her things just yet.
The minute I entered her room I went straight to her jewelry box. I knew exactly what I needed to complete my outfit, and it was in my grandmother’s jewelry box with all her other favorite pieces. Popping it open, I found the string pearls I’ve worn so many times while growing up and quickly removed them from the box and slipped them over my head. Fingering the pearls, I stood in front of her large wooden vanity as I knotted the satin ribbon tying the pearls securely around my neck.
Holding the cold pearl beads in my hand, I closed my eyes and let memories flood my thoughts of a time when I was little and thought of this room like Ariel’s secret hideaway filled with treasures. One of my favorite things to do while here visiting my grandparents—besides spending the days out on the sailboat, of course—were spending the afternoons up in this bedroom playing dress-up. I loved exploring her massive walk-in closet filled with high heels, satin gloves, beautiful gowns and of course her jewelry box and trunk full of treasures.
When I turned to the leave the bedroom, her trunk caught my eye. Walking over to it, I bent down and pulled the heavy wooden top open allowing it to fall back against the wall. Peering down inside I looked over the stack of letters, dried flowers, special pieces of jewelry that never left the trunk, and the many trinkets my grandfather collected for her over the sixty years they were together. As I looked at everything, slowly sliding my fingers across the many objects, a crisp white envelope with my name written on the front of it in my grandmother’s handwriting caught my eye.
Plucking the envelope out of the trunk, I stared down at it contemplating whether I should read it. The envelope felt weighted down as if there was a heavy object inside of it piquing my curiosity. I was heartbroken when she had passed and her will was read, that she left letters to my mother and father but nothing for me. It was only stated in her will that I would receive my trust fund that her and my grandfather created for me once I graduated from Boston College. Her attorney told me that she said she loved me and was proud of everything I had accomplished so far in life.
My mother later after the reading pulled me aside when she noticed how visibly upset I was that I hadn’t received a goodbye letter. She told me my grandmother loved me more than life itself. She told me her letter and my father’s were nothing more than letters filled with her wishes for the property and nothing more.
No matter how hard I had tried to brush it off, it still hurt knowing I never got to say goodbye or get a goodbye from her to help ease the pain of her loss. Before I could decide on what to do with the letter, Ethan appeared in the doorway gently knocking on the bedroom door, pulling me from my thoughts.
I slammed the trunk shut, stuffed the letter into my clutch, and climbed to my feet. I pushed the memories back down deep inside of my heart to reflect on another day. For tonight I would celebrate with my family. I’m glad I did be
cause we had an amazing evening filled with laughter, dancing, lots of drinking and made a mountain of memories to look back on.
It’s now well past two a.m., and my head is spinning from all the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight. I feel my high from the excitement of tonight wearing off and exhaustion sinking in.
Needing some alone time to clear my head, I sneak down to the beach slipping away while Ethan is busy conversing with my father and his friends. He’s been so sweet tonight and attentive. Constantly asking if I was having fun and fetching me a drink whenever I tried to head over to the bar to get myself a new one. I slowly felt my anxieties of starting our new life together in Chicago fading away.
Kicking my heels off, I bend over scooping them up before walking down the sandy beach toward the gentle waves that are rolling into the shore and pouring themselves up along the beach. I welcome the soothing feeling of the cool as it slides between my toes with each step I take.
It’s a warmer than usual night in the Cape, but the breeze that is rolling in with the tide causes a chill to creep up my arms. The fringes of my dress tickle my thighs as they dance in the damp salty ocean breeze.
I pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders to keep warm as I stroll slowly along the shoreline until I find my favorite spot. It’s a spot about ten feet down from the dock where my father’s sailboat is docked. It’s surrounded by tall grass that dances in the breeze and the sound of crickets and bullfrogs lay in hiding as they sing a sweet, nighttime melody.
Gripping my clutch, I stare down at it as I try to work up the courage to open it and read the letter that is hidden inside of it. I let out a shaky breath and bring my fingers to the clasp of the clutch and begin to pop it open when I hear the sound of fabric flapping in the wind and feet sliding over sand. Lifting my head, I spot a dark shadow making its way toward me. I inhale a sharp breath as the approaching figure startles me. My fears are quickly chased away as the sound of Ethan’s voice travels across the beach toward me.
Love, Lies, & Crime: Anthology Page 8