Remember Tomorrow

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  • 65 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  be as they had been. Cees wouldn’t though part of her wanted too, because like Lilly said, she deserved more. She deserved stability, she deserved to be loved.

  “I came in here to tell you I need to go to New York for a few days,” Miranda said.

  “Need me to feed Bastian?”

  Miranda grinned. “I wasn’t sure you would still be willing.”

  Cees was surprised. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Miranda shrugged and Cees hurried her words to get past the awkwardness that had fallen between them. “What are you going to New York for?”

  “The bigwigs are giving me an audience for your cabin miniseries idea.”

  Cees stood up. “You’re kidding. They liked it? That’s fantastic. Why didn’t you tell me?” She had Þ rst approached Miranda with the idea months ago. Miranda had told her no promises, but she had promised to broach the subject if she ever had the opportunity. The idea had been for a small workspace in a backyard that could be used for writing or painting. Miranda’s obvious skepticism convinced Cees it was a bad idea, so she had let it go.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “I won’t. When do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow. Here, let me get you a key for my place.”

  Miranda reached in her bag and pulled a key off her ring. “I bet you thought things would never get serious between us, and here I am handing over my key.”

  “That’s because we aren’t sleeping together anymore.” Cees took the key and almost bit her bottom lip at having said it out loud.

  Miranda seemed unperturbed. “You say that now, but I think you’re going to miss me and come crawling back.” She winked.

  “I’m gonna make you pay when you do.”

  • 66 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  v

  After Miranda’s departure, Cees spent several minutes shufß ing papers, checking e-mail, and cleaning the inside of her desk drawer. Finally, she leaned back in her chair and stared up at the peeling ceiling.

  The thought of Arie alone and scared in the hospital made Cees shake her head. She had no misconceptions about why she had broken her promise. Self-preservation was a powerful thing. Cees stood and reached for her leather messenger bag. Any anger she thought she would feel at seeing Arieanna again had disappeared when she saw her lying in the hospital bed. All she could think about was protecting her, being with her. Memories of the pain hadn’t returned until she had tried to sleep that night.

  The anger showed up the next morning during the carpet repair scene. And now here she was, two days later, sitting at her desk and kicking herself because she wanted to see Arie. No, she would go home, maybe call Lilly to see if she wanted to get a late dinner, maybe drink a beer or two to help her sleep, and that would be that.

  Cees rested her head against the seat as the Monster warmed up. The sky was turning a deep purple, and she wondered if Arie could see it from where she lay in the hospital. She wondered if she was lonely or scared. Damn it. Cees hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand at the thought of Arie ever being scared of anything. Maybe she would call the hospital tomorrow and check on her progress. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if they told her that Arie had regained her memory and was doing Þ ne.

  Cees had almost convinced herself that she was doing the right thing—for herself—but the memory of how Arie had looked at her when she came into the room reminded her of what it felt like to be needed. Arie’s eyes seemed to plead with her, begging for some assurance from Cees that she belonged somewhere and to someone. Everything in her wanted to gather Arie close and

  • 67 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  tell her that she belonged with her and that she didn’t have to be afraid. Even after the devastation of our failed relationship, how could I still feel so strongly for her?

  The light turned red and the monster settled to a heavy, sighing stop.

  “Everyone eventually comes to their fork,” Cees’s father was fond of saying when Cees was struggling with a difÞ cult decision. “The road you choose is the road you gotta travel. There is no right or wrong.”

  The light turned green, and Cees found herself getting onto the freeway. The monster was taking her toward the hospital—

  toward Arie, toward probable pain, toward possibilities.

  • 68 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cees told herself that visiting hours were over and that she should not feel guilty about pointing the monster toward home. So why was she standing in front of the hospital wishing she smoked so that she could bum a cigarette off one the blue-clad doctors or nurses furtively stealing a puff in the shadow of the building? They, of all people, should know better.

  But then she, of all people, should know better too. Lung cancer had leached into her father’s tall muscular frame and eaten at him until he had looked twice his age. He started smoking on his sixteenth birthday and stopped Þ ve weeks before his Þ ftieth, the day he was diagnosed and a year before he died.

  Cees crossed her arms in front of her to keep the shiver that went through her body from starting again. His death had left her feeling lonely in a crowded room, until Arie had come into her life. A nurse with a familiar-looking scowl walked through the sliding glass doors of the hospital and looked right at Cees.

  At Þ rst Cees hoped she would keep walking, and she did, right toward Cees. “Visiting hours are over,” she said grufß y.

  “I know. I had to work late.”

  “Did you work late yesterday too?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “She was very upset.”

  Cees swallowed. She had been telling herself that Arie didn’t remember her and that it wouldn’t matter if she visited or not. But

  • 69 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  she knew she had been fooling herself because as much as Arie had tried to hide it, there had been fear and hope in her face when Cees had walked in. Arie had searched her face as if looking for salvation. Despite her fear and remembered pain, Cees would have given anything to ease the desperation on Arie’s face. Cees told herself she would have felt the same for anyone.

  “You’re the only tether she has right now.” The lack of accusation in the nurse’s tone forced Cees to drop her head.

  “She and I, we had, have a past. Things didn’t end well. It’s hard for me—” Cees stopped speaking when she realized how selÞ sh she sounded. She looked up at the nurse and then at the building. “What time should I be here in the morning?” Cees asked.

  “She might not want to see you.”

  Cees looked at the building and back at her truck. “What time?”

  “If you come before seven o’clock, you can talk to her after she eats dinner.”

  “I’ll be here.” Cees started to walk away, but the nurse stopped her.

  “I can let you see her for a few minutes now, if you want.

  You can at least tell her you’ll be here tomorrow so she can stop fretting.”

  “Really?” Cees couldn’t help the smile that came to her face.

  “Yeah, but make sure no one sees you when you leave.” Cees agreed and told herself that her heart was pounding hard because she had to walk twice as fast as usual to keep up. It was still pounding when they came to the door leading to Arie’s room.

  Cees looked at the door and remembered her father’s words.

  “Everyone eventually comes to their fork.” She knew what her father meant by those words. Everyone had a road to travel. She just wished her journey was a little less painful. Unlike Arie, Cees remembered with crystalline clarity the moments before her life veered off track.

  • 70 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  v

  Cees had been waiting for Arie for hours. Arie hadn’t bothered to say good-bye that morning, nor had she bothered to call.
Saturdays had always been their time to lie in bed, to make love until someone’s stomach protested the lack of food. And then they would gorge themselves on Wheat Thins, Laughing Cow cheese, and grapes, before making love again. Ever since Arie had gone to Seattle, things had been steadily declining between them. Except for one almost desperate night of making love, Arie hadn’t made any effort to initiate sex, even though Cees could feel that Arie’s desire for her had not lessened. Cees could see it in Arie’s eyes every time she removed her clothing or walked from a shower. Arie had never been good at hiding her desire.

  Cees just couldn’t Þ gure out why she suddenly felt she needed to.

  A hopeless feeling shrouded Cees.

  The front door opened and closed before Cees realized that a key had been inserted in the lock. She walked out into the living room. Arie was bent over removing her boots, carelessly dripping water on the ß oor. This was another one of those new things that Cees had noticed and didn’t like. Arie just seemed not to care anymore—about her home, about Þ nding another job, about her relationship with Cees. Unfortunately, Cees thought she knew why, and it broke her heart to think they couldn’t work things out.

  “Arieanna?” When Cees spoke her name, Arie stopped struggling with her boot lace, one foot still crossed at her knee.

  A ß ash of pain ran across her face so deeply that Cees caught her breath and rushed to her. Arieanna held her hand out, and Cees stopped, but not before she saw it—love. Arieanna still loved her, but she was hiding it. Which she did expertly right before she looked down at her boots and began to unlace them with slow determination.

  “Where’ve you been, Arie?”

  • 71 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Out. You should try it. Every time I come home, you’re here.”

  “Were you out looking for a job?” Cees asked softly and then kicked herself for dropping right into the question. She had been racking her brain trying to Þ gure out what had gone wrong with their relationship. One thought was that Arie blamed her for not having found another job. The other was too hard to contemplate right now. To think that the thing they both claimed to want so desperately was now tearing them apart.

  Arie attempted to move past her, but Cees reached out and grabbed her. Arie had obviously made no effort to keep herself from being drenched. Water dripped from her long dark hair.

  Her lean but strong body had started to look frail. Cees hadn’t seen Arie eat anything of substance in weeks. Early in their relationship, Arie had conÞ ded that if she wasn’t diligent about eating, her body would waste to nothing. It was obvious she wasn’t being careful now.

  Arie started to tremble.

  “Tell me what’s hurting you. Why are you pulling away from me? Did I do something wrong? Is it the job situation? I can talk to them. I can get your job back—”

  A guttural noise emanated from the back of Arie’s throat.

  Cees would have pounded at her back, if not for the smile. No, it wasn’t a smile, it was a snarl. Cees’s heart sank. She didn’t know this person, and she was starting to think that there was nothing she could do to help her.

  “Job? Cees, I don’t need a job. My parents didn’t leave me broke.” Cees blinked and let go of Arie’s arm. Confusion turned to hurt, but only after Arie’s words screwed themselves into her heart. The point had been that Cees’s father, the focus of her life until she had met Arie, had left his daughter penniless.

  His illness and subsequent hiding of it had been one of the Þ rst serious things that she had conÞ ded to Arie. To have her throw it back at her now…

  “Why are you doing this? Tell me what I did.”

  • 72 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  “Did? You didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Arie started to walk away. The screw had Þ nally buried its head just below the surface of Cees’s heart. “If you want me to leave, just say so. You don’t need to insult my father or me. Just say it.” Arie turned around and glared at her. The anger was palpable, causing Cees to take a step back. “Arie, what… Don’t—” Cees was shaking her head, but Arie continued undeterred.

  “I want you to get your stuff and leave,” Arie said, and from the look on her face, Cees expected the words to be angry and biting. They weren’t. They were soft, almost as if it hurt Arie to say them. But the words couldn’t have hurt Arie half as much to say as they did for Cees to hear.

  Cees shook her head. This made no sense. It was as if Arie was a different person. Could a person change that fast? It had been two weeks—no, three, since she Þ rst noticed the coldness.

  “Cees, did you hear what I said? You wanted me to tell you, now I’m telling you. I think you should leave.”

  “Are you breaking up with me, Arieanna? Is that what this is all about, or are you just trying to tell me you need space?”

  Arie opened her mouth and closed it. The wobble of her chin was enough of an opening for Cees. Disregarding Arie’s soaked clothing, she pulled her close.

  “Just tell me,” she said into Arie’s neck.

  She felt Arie trying to push her away, but she held on tight.

  “Tell me what I can do to help you. I’ll do anything you want.

  Just tell me how I can Þ x this.”

  “You can’t Þ x everything.” Arie’s voice sounded garbled.

  “Let me try.” Cees pulled back and saw that Arie was crying.

  Her own eyes welled instantly. “Tell me what you need and I swear I’ll move mountains to get it for you.”

  “I need…you to leave.”

  “For how long?” Cees said, the tears ß owing hard now.

  “I don’t know.”

  Cees’s mind swarmed with confusion and pain, but she

  • 73 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  forced words out of her swollen throat. “Are you telling me this is it?”

  Arie’s eyes seemed to scrape over her face. “You deserve—”

  She stopped speaking and looked off to her left. “We’re not right for each other. It’s over between us.”

  Cees felt as if she had just been gut punched. She looked around for her keys and started rushing toward the door.

  “Cees.” The cry sounded as if it were ripped from Arie, and Cees stopped, eyes closed, hand on the doorknob. Please, she mouthed, hating herself for knowing that all Arie had to say was that she didn’t mean it and Cees would be hers.

  “What about your stuff?” Arie asked, but the agony in her voice was too much, and Cees turned the knob and ran out of the apartment before something else could be used to hurt her.

  “Cees,” Arie’s voice sounded strangled. “Cees, wait.” But Cees hadn’t waited, and for a while her anger had been enough to sustain her.

  She and Lilly would return to get her stuff when Arie’s car wasn’t parked in the lot. They would steal the couch in a Þ t of immaturity. Unbeknownst to Lilly, and despite the tears and heartache, Cees had placed two calls to Arie. One saying that she loved her; one saying that she understood and would never call again, but if Arie ever needed her, she would be there.

  That last phone call hurt the most. Both went unanswered.

  v

  “Well, you going in, or not?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Cees took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Arie didn’t look away from the TV for so long that Cees thought she was ignoring her on purpose. Cees leaned against the door frame and studied Arie’s proÞ le. Her thick dark hair had been cut short and lay against her temples in soft wisps. Cees tightened her Þ ngers into Þ sts behind her back in an effort to stop the wistful memory of what those curls felt like. The small swell

  • 74 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  of Arie’s chest rose and fell in a sigh, and Cees looked up at the TV. Cees caught the inhalation before it could embarrass her, but only just. Blood raced to her face, leaving her light-headed and giddy. Arie was wat
ching her show. Seemingly so involved in it, she hadn’t noticed Cees standing there. Cees felt guilty at having caught Arie unawares. She cleared her throat softly to let Arie know she was there. “That stuff will rot your brain, you know.”

  “I assumed you were one of the nurses.” Arie’s voice was emotionless and distant, a total contrast to the hurt in her brown eyes. Cees felt summarily chastised without any accusations being voiced.

  They looked at each other for a long moment. Words of apology and explanation came to Cees’s mind but never reached her lips. Cees withstood Arie’s gaze until the sadness receded as if Arie heard, or at least understood, how sorry she was. Cees looked away Þ rst.

  “That’s one of my favorite episodes. It looks so easy up there.” Cees cocked her chin toward the TV. “But I actually had to do like seven or eight takes to get it right.”

  Cees felt Arie’s gaze on her face, and she wondered what she thought of the small lines at her forehead that Edith expertly covered with makeup before she Þ lmed. Cees didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that the stress lines were visible at the sides of her mouth and that her hair was windblown. She was not the perfectly casual woman as seen on TV. She felt stiff and uncomfortable, and would no doubt have a bruise on her shoulder from leaning against the door frame. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to straighten because that would mean she would have to walk inside the room.

  “Why are you here?” Arie Þ nally asked. A better question would probably be why was she still staring at the TV when the show had gone to commercial? Cees straightened and looked at Arie.

  “I told you I’d be back.”

  “You told me you’d be back yesterday.”

  • 75 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “I’m sorry. Look, I know you don’t remember, but…it’s complicated.” Why was she having trouble looking directly at Arie?

  “Complicated? I don’t know what happened to us, what debt you think you owe me, but consider it paid in full.” Arie’s voice sounded mufß ed, and when she Þ nally looked at her Cees felt pinned by the intensity of her gaze.