Still Love You

by Allie Everhart

  "But it hurt you to no longer be with him. So you tried to forget him and all the memories you two had together. That makes you a forgetter. Silas would rather remember. As much as it hurts him, he remembers every moment you spent together."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because he's my son." She smiles. "I know my son. I'm always amazed that he'll remember the most obscure things about when you two were kids. Like just the other day, he was telling me he has an accounting test on Saturday, and that led him to remember a story about when you were eight and were upset that the school didn't give out grades."

  She's referring to the private school I used to go to with Silas. Our hippie teacher thought grades weren't necessary, saying everyone learns at their own pace and excels at different things, so assigning grades would only discourage a child's ability to grow into the person they're meant to be. I couldn't take not knowing how I did on a test. I knew kids in public school who got grades and I wanted them too.

  "I wanted a report card," I say.

  "Yes." She laughs. "So Silas said he made one for you. He said you kept threatening to leave and go to public school but he didn't want you to go, so he made you a report card, hoping it would make you stay."

  "Yeah, I remember that. He gave me all A's except in Art, which he gave me a B in. I was so mad."

  "He said that was because you had an assignment in which were you were supposed to rip up magazine pages and make a picture using the scraps, but you refused to do it that way."

  I laugh. "I'm surprised he remembered that. I barely remember it. What did he say I did wrong?"

  "He said you approached the project too logically. Instead of ripping the pieces, you cut them into orderly squares with scissors, then put them back in place, like you were putting together a puzzle."

  "Did I get in trouble for it?"

  "No. There were no rules at that school. Your teacher said you were just expressing your personality. You like logic and for things to make sense. There's nothing wrong with that. But Silas had to give you a hard time for not following instructions, which explains the B you got in Art." She holds up the green necklace she just finished. "What do you think of this?"

  "I like it better than the other one. I'd probably wear that."

  She sets it down and starts on a bracelet. "Silas was in the garage the other day, using my metal stamper."

  "He's making more charms?"

  "I think he was making just one, for a certain someone." She grins, her eyes on the beads she's holding as she tries to decide which ones to use.

  "He said he's making me a bracelet."

  She nods and picks out two yellow beads and sets them next to her. "He still has the ring he made you."

  She's talking about my engagement ring. I gave it back to him when we broke up.

  "I loved that ring," I say softly to myself, picturing it in my head. He used his mom's equipment to make a setting for the stone. Instead of a diamond, he took a stone we found on the beach and shaped it into an oval and polished it. That ring was so beautiful that I cried when I saw it and couldn't stop. And the fact that he made it himself made me cry even more. It was a million times better than any diamond ring he could've bought from a store.

  After we broke up, Silas insisted I keep the ring, but I wouldn't do it. Keeping it would make me remember, and as Diane said, I'm a forgetter. Remembering is too hard, too hurtful, too sad.

  "He wore it on a chain around his neck the whole time he was away."

  "Because he's a rememberer," I say under my breath, but Diane heard me.

  "Yes. And it reminded him of you."

  "Diane, why are you telling me this?"

  She holds a bead in her hand and looks up at me. "Sometimes it's good to remember. Forgetting is often easier in the short term, but in the long term it can lead to regrets. And a life of regrets is worse than the heartache of remembering."

  I'm not sure if I should ask this, but I've always talked openly with Diane and I know she'll give me an honest answer. "Diane?"

  "Yes, dear." Her head is down as she goes back to picking out beads.

  "Do you want Silas and I to get back together?"

  "That's not for me to decide."

  "But do you want that? Do you want that for Silas?"

  "I want him to find love, and he's found that with you. But if you don't reciprocate the feelings, then no. He's put his heart out there and I'm proud of him for that but I don't want to see him get hurt again. Well, I know he'll get hurt again. That's part of life. But it hurts even more when it's your first love. I don't want to see him go through that again."

  I thought for sure she wanted us back together. But now I'm thinking she doesn't. That she doesn't trust me with his heart. And the truth is, I'm not sure I do either.

  "I'm not blaming you, Willow. What happened between you and Silas isn't anyone's fault. You were both so young. You still are. You're both still trying to figure out who you are and what you want out of life. There's nothing wrong with that. But having already been through this, I just hope you both have learned from it and don't end up repeating the past." Her cell phone rings and she has to search under her boxes of beads to find it. "Hello?...Hi, honey...She's here right now...Yes, I'll tell her...Bye." She sets her phone down.

  "Was that Silas?"

  "Yes. He said he tried to reach you but your phone was off."

  I check it. "The battery's dead."

  "He just wanted you to know he's staying at work until six tonight. He mentioned something about a haircut?"

  "Yeah, he wants to get his hair cut and I'm going with him." I glance at her phone. "Was that a photo of Silas on your phone?"

  "Yes. It's a picture of him with some of the kids he met when he was building a school in the Philippines." She hands me the phone. The photo shows Silas crouching down with kids all around him. They look like kindergarteners and they're all trying to hug him at once. "That's a cute photo."

  "You can look at the other ones. He sent me pictures from all the different places he went."

  I go to the photos and swipe through them. There are several pictures of people hugging Silas, not just kids, but also adults, like they're grateful for all he's done to make their lives better. Like he's a hero. Because he is. Silas is a hero to those people. He took time out of his life to help them and he didn't even get paid.

  Looking through these photos makes me see Silas in a whole new way. I always knew he was generous and selfless. He was always that way with me and with his friends. But seeing him be that way with total strangers halfway across the world is amazing. And inspiring. It makes me feel like I should be doing more to help others. I've spent the whole last year focused on me and what I want to accomplish. I guess that's what most people do, but Silas took a different path. A more difficult path. He spent two years helping strangers instead of worrying about himself. I have so much respect for him. And I'm so proud of him.

  "Willow, can you hand me those wire cutters?" Diane is pointing next to my feet.

  "Yeah. Here." I get up and bring them to her, along with her phone. "I should go. It was nice talking to you."

  "You too. If I don't see you later, have fun tonight."

  I leave and go back to my house. When I get there, there's a car I don't recognize in the driveway.

  A woman gets out of the car when she sees me. "Do you live here?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "I was hoping I could see the house."

  I'm confused. What is she talking about?

  "You want to see my house?"

  "Yes. I was hoping to see the inside. Do you have time right now?"

  "I don't understand. Why do you want to see the inside of my house?"

  "Isn't it for sale?"

  "No. You have the wrong house."

  She searches her purse. "I had the address written down somewhere. I thought for sure this was it."

  "No, it's not for sale."

  "Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you. Hav
e a nice day." She gets in her car as I go inside the house.

  When that lady said my house was for sale I got a little panicked. I've lived in this house my entire life. I don't want my parents to even think about selling it. I want them to live here until they're old and gray, and then maybe I'll buy it, just so nobody else can live in it.

  At seven-thirty, Silas and I arrive at the hair salon. It has an industrial look inside, with exposed brick and metal piping. Silas usually gets his hair cut at a barber shop near his house, which is fine for a trim, but since he's getting a lot cut off I suggested he go someplace better.

  A girl with long black hair and a piercing in her nose sees us walk in and immediately smiles at Silas. This is a common reaction wherever we go. Girls are always smiling at Silas in a flirtatious way. Back in high school, this would sometimes happen when we went out, but it happens way more often now, probably because he's even hotter than he used to be. I glance at him in his low-hung jeans and gray t-shirt that fits close to his chest, showing off his lean torso. The soft fabric clings to his shoulders which lead down to his muscular arms. I'm still amazed at how much his body has changed in two years.

  "Can I help you?" the girl with the piercing asks. She leans over the counter, giving us a good view of her breasts, which are pushed up and out, framed by the plunging neckline of her tight black shirt.

  I instinctively wrap my arm around Silas' as we walk up to the desk. "He has an appointment at seven-thirty."

  Silas looks down at my arm in his and notices how close I'm standing. A slight grin appears on his face before he turns back to the girl.

  "Silas Sparks," he says.

  She glances at the computer screen that's off to the side. "Looks like you're with me."

  What? I made an appointment with Alex. I assumed Alex was a guy, but I guess that name works for both guys and girls.

  I'm instantly jealous. Why am I jealous? She's just doing his hair. But her breasts will be in his face as she washes it and cuts it and—

  "Right this way." She motions Silas to follow her.

  "Can I come with?" I ask.

  She looks annoyed so Silas says, "She's helping me. I wasn't sure how to cut it."

  Alex smiles at him. "I can help you with that."

  "I need to come with him," I blurt out. "I'm very particular about his hair."

  "Are you his sister?" she asks in a tone that implies I could never be his girlfriend. I find it insulting and am starting to wonder if we should find a different stylist.

  "I'm his girlfriend," I say, holding his hand.

  Silas squeezes my hand. His mouth is turned up slightly like he's trying not to laugh. He finds my jealousy amusing. I find it irritating and yet I can't seem to control it.

  "Follow me." Her tone is more business-like now that she thinks I'm his girlfriend. She turns and walks quickly past the row of other stylists to the shampoo area at the very back of the building.

  "Have a seat," she says to Silas. He sits down, leaning back into the sink. She shampoos his hair, and just as I predicted, her breasts are right over his face. The shampooing seems to take longer than it should as she slowly massages his head in long, drawn-out strokes. I'm about ready to tell her to hurry this along but then she turns on the sprayer and finishes up.

  She takes him to her station and I sit in the chair beside him.

  "So what are you thinking?" she asks, looking at him in the mirror, running her hands through his hair.

  "I want it short," he says, "but not too short. Willow, describe what we were talking about earlier."

  "He wants most of the length cut off," I say, "but leave it a little longer on top, shorter on the sides. He doesn't want to have to style it. He needs something easy. More of a wash and wear look."

  Alex picks up some strands of his hair, holding them out. "With your hair texture and the way I'm going to cut it, you shouldn't have to style it. Just let it air dry and it'll be good."

  She gets to work. It's not even my hair, but I feel nervous seeing big chunks of hair falling to the ground. The haircut takes about a half hour and when she's done, I admit, she did a really good job. It's much shorter, but not too short. God, he looks hot. No wonder girls are always flirting with him.

  "What do you think?" Alex hands Silas a mirror so he can see the back.

  He takes a quick glance at it, then hands her the mirror. "Looks good. What do you think, Willow?"

  "I love it. It looks great."

  We go to the front to pay and Alex hands him her card. "You want to make an appointment for next time? Maybe in three weeks?"

  I'm thinking he'll say no because this place charges twice as much as his barber does.

  "Sure. Put me down for the same time, if that works."

  She checks the computer. "Yeah, that'll work. I've got you down. See you then." She smiles, only at him, ignoring me.

  When we get outside, he rakes his hands through his hair. "It's going to take a while to get used to this."

  "You don't like it?"

  "I do. It's just different. Do you like it? Be honest." He stops and faces me so I can see it.

  "I really like it. I liked it the old way too, but I think it was time for a change. You can always grow it back if you decide you like it long." I tousle the hair on the top of his head. "I like how she gave it some movement and texture. She did a good job."

  "Yeah. I liked her."

  "Liked her as a hairdresser? Or more than that?"

  He chuckles. "Willow. Don't ask me that. I told you I don't like talking about other girls with you."

  "Why not? We're friends."

  He leans down and lowers his voice. "Friends who fuck."

  "That was one time."

  "So it's not happening again?"

  I glance to the side. "I don't know. Probably not." Who am I kidding? I know it'll happen again. It shouldn't, but I'm sure it will. We can't seem to control ourselves around each other. I look back at Silas. "So are you going to ask her out?"

  "I just met her. I haven't thought about it."

  This is so infuriating. Why did I ever tell him to date other girls? Because I'm not dating him, that's why. He's not mine.

  "What if she calls and asks you out?"

  "She's not going to do that. She thinks I have a girlfriend."

  "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

  "Why were you pretending to be my girlfriend?" A smug grin appears. "This is the second time this has happened."

  "I just..." This is embarrassing. I'm usually not this outwardly jealous. I at least try to hide it, which is why I say, "I didn't think she was right for you."

  "Why not?" He starts walking down the street.

  "She had a nose ring." I catch up to him. "You don't date girls with nose rings."

  "I never have, but that doesn't mean I never will. I liked the nose ring."

  "You did?"

  "I don't like it on every girl, but it looked good on Alex."

  Now he's using her name, like they're good friends, soon to be more than that. Damn. Why did I pick that salon?

  "What I like even better is a navel ring." He grins. "Those are sexy."

  I hold his arm, stopping him. "I want one."

  He laughs. "Yeah, you're funny."

  "Why is that funny? I'm serious."

  It's true. I've always wanted a navel ring but never told anyone that.

  "Willow, you're not that type of girl."

  "What type of girl?"

  "The type who gets her navel pierced, or any part of your body pierced, except for your ears."

  "You're wrong. I've always wanted my navel pierced. I was just too afraid to do it. It seems like it would hurt. But I'll do it if you go with me. There's a place just down the street that does them. That tattoo place next to the dry cleaners."

  "Let's get something to eat." He takes my hand and continues walking. "Dinner wasn't enough. I'm still hungry."

  "Silas, stop." I yank my hand back. "I'm not kidding. I want a nav
el ring."

  He looks at me like he still doesn't believe me. "You've never once said you wanted one. And now you suddenly do?"

  "I've wanted one for years. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't think I'd ever get one."

  "So why now?"

  "Because you're here to keep me from being afraid. You'll go in there with me, right? Maybe let me squeeze your hand when they put the piercing in?"

  "Willow, are you seriously going to do this?"

  "Yes," I say emphatically.

  "You won't get hired as a CEO if you have a navel ring."

  I roll my eyes. "An employer is never going to see it. "I'm not going to wear a half-shirt to work."

  "Don't you want to think about this some more?"

  "I've already thought about it. I'm ready to do this."

  He sighs. "Okay. Let's do it."

  I smile and grab his hand and pull him reluctantly down the street. This is so unlike me to do this, especially on such short notice. But I love that I'm doing it. I feel this sense of exhilaration. Freedom from my usual cautious self. From the person I normally am.

  And yet, oddly enough, doing this feels more like the real me than the me I'm used to living with every day.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Silas

  I can't believe Willow wants to do this. A navel ring? Really? This is so unlike her, although I always knew she had this side of her. The carefree, uninhibited side. The side that lives in the here and now instead of in the distant future. I wish she'd let that side of her come out more often. She's happy when she's like this. She's generally a happy person, but she's even happier when she lets loose and does something she normally wouldn't do.

  We go in the tattoo place and are greeted by a tall, wide guy who's probably about 22. His blond hair is spiked up on top and shaved on the sides and he's a wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. Tattoos cover his thick neck and both of his arms.

  "Can I help you?" he asks, directing the question only at me.

  I guess I look more like the tattoo type than Willow does, in her black shorts and fitted white t-shirt. She tends to dress in conservative colors and styles. She likes a sophisticated look, a complete contrast to her mom's style, which is a mismatched hodgepodge of colorful clothes that drape over her body instead of the tailored fit that Willow prefers.