by Hendin, KK
I knew he was watching me from the doorway as I practically ran home.
Chapter · Seven
I stared at the ceiling and sighed. It was almost two in the morning, and I had been lying there for hours. Nothing. No sleep.
It was better than the dreams that haunted me when I slept, I supposed.
The past few hours played over and over again in my mind, reminding me of everything I had lost. Of everything that I would never have again. The pain was crippling. Maybe staying here wasn’t a good idea, with memories of who I used to be in the form of a little girl who could break my heart in an instant.
My eye caught on the corner of the brochure for Fort Raleigh. What happened to them? I wondered, trying to get my mind off of that evening. Where had they all disappeared to? Maybe it was the fact that there were still people looking for what happened to them, all these years later. That people cared enough to keep looking.
My family? They probably didn’t even notice I was gone. And if they did notice, I’m sure they didn’t care. It was easier, to pretend I never existed. To pretend that they only had one perfect little daughter. One who never did anything wrong. God forbid should Jen do anything that was less than perfect.
I rubbed my eyes, exhausted.
There was no point reliving the past. There was no point trying to rationalize what they had done. What any of them had done. I was going to build the biggest damn bridge in America, and I was going to get over it.
The front door of the café rang, and I jumped, startled. It wasn’t Gabe. I sighed, and went to mop up the little coffee spill. “What’s made you so jumpy today?” Grandma asked.
“Nothing,” I lied.
“One day, you’re going to have to tell someone,” she said, her eyes seeing too much. I shrugged. One day was not going to be anytime soon.
“Good morning.”
Shit. It was Gabe.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t see him—but it was too late to try to hide in the back of the café. He had already seen me.
“Good morning,” I faltered, twisting a dishrag nervously.
“Can I borrow Maddie for a few minutes?” he asked Grandma.
She beamed. “Sure, dear,” she said, taking the dishrag out of my hand and shooing me away.
Following Gabe out the door, we walked around the side of the café to an empty park bench. Putting down his briefcase, he sat down, and looked at me expectantly. Good Lord, he was gorgeous. I sat down next to him, twisting my hands.
He looked at me steadily for a minute, his gaze calming me and completely freaking me out at the same time. “I’m really sorry about blowing up at you last night,” he began.
“It’s fine,” I said, watching my hands, unwilling to look him in the eye.
“It’s not fine.” He was running his hands through his hair again. “My mom called and left me a message that you were going to watch Noie, but I didn’t see it until you left.”
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “I understand you freaking out.” And I did.
I did.
“Can I finish groveling before you decide that you forgive me?” he asked, sounding slightly amused. I shrugged. “It’s probably going to make me sound a little paranoid,” he admitted.
Paranoia I was used to.
“To make a long, complicated story short, Noie’s mom left when she was five weeks old,” he said. “I have no idea where she is, and part of me is waiting for the day she decides she actually wants to have a daughter again.”
I reached over and put my hand on top of his. “It’s okay,” I repeated. “You’re allowed to get nervous. She’s your daughter.”
Turning his hand over, he laced his fingers through mine, sending sparks of awareness through me. That was not a good idea. “Here’s what I don’t understand,” he said, stroking my hand. “She won’t talk to anyone besides my parents and Sam. She freaks out. But not you.” He looked at me, his face a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “Why?”
I swallowed.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, watching his thumb rub small circles around my hands. “I don’t know.”
He sighed.
“Gabe?” I had to ask. I had to know. “Who taught her the song she sings at bedtime?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “She’s been singing it ever since she started talking. I have no idea where she heard it—maybe on some kid’s tape or something.”
That didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.
“Nobody taught it to her?” I asked, pressing.
“Not that I know of.” He looked at me, feeling my hand start shaking. “What’s wrong?”
I leaned forward, taking deep, shuddering breaths and tried to calm down. It had to be a coincidence. It had to. But no matter what way I looked at it, no matter how I tried to rationalize it, it didn’t make any sense. Ravi never recorded it.
“Are you sure nobody taught it to her?” I asked.
“Pretty sure,” he said, his eyebrows coming together. “Why do you ask?”
But even if someone had taught it to her, who could it have possibly been? Ravi had never been to North Carolina before. None of this was making any sense.
“Maddie?”
“My boyfriend wrote that song.” The words rushed out of me, knowing if I didn’t say them now, I never would say anything. “Six years ago. It was never on any CD. He never recorded it. As far as I know, nobody knew the song.”
Gabe stared at me in confusion. “I don’t understand,” he began slowly.
“Well, neither do I!”
I couldn’t do this anymore.
Pulling my hand out of his, I rushed back into the café.
“Maddie!”
I ignored him. I couldn’t deal with this now. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to deal with it.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of confusion. Robotic. “You sure you’re okay, darling?” Grandma asked, worried.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Ignoring the things that bother you won’t make them disappear,” she said, watching me.
“I’m fine, Grandma. Really.”
I don’t think she believed me.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. Plagued with memories, I stumbled out of bed the next morning and down to the café. “Turn around and go right back upstairs,” Grandma scolded me. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, young lady. I will not have you working yourself to the bone here. Back in bed.”
Protesting was not an option. Turning around, I stumbled back up the stairs and into bed. And spent the next few hours staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep, and fighting to stay awake. I thought back to the first days after the accident—days that were a medicated haze. Maybe I should do that again. Take something and sleep, uninterrupted.
No. No medications.
I couldn’t risk going through that again. If I started taking sleeping pills, I didn’t think I would be able to stop until I’d taken enough to go to sleep and never wake up.
Maybe staying here wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe I should keep going. Maybe I should leave. I grabbed my car keys, locked the apartment door behind me and climbed into my car. I needed to leave—go somewhere, anywhere, away from here. The next thing I knew, I was on the road toward Fort Raleigh. I parked my car, and this time, I didn’t even bother walking into the museum, just headed to the memorial in the back. It was a quiet day, and nobody else was there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I sank back against the fence and tried to regulate my breathing.
Tracing circles in the dirt next to me, I thought about everything that had happened since I came to North Carolina. How the only thing I had run away from was my family. But was it running when they weren’t looking? I didn’t know.
Leaving them didn’t matter to me. Leaving the graves hurt me. Leaving the only spot I could talk to Ravi and my baby hurt me.
But nothing was there but gravestones.
Nobody had listened
when I didn’t want the graves there. It hadn’t felt right.
Looking around the empty clearing, I walked over to a corner of the field, near the beginning of the trees. A cluster of flowers were growing, the only color besides green and brown in the entire field. Bending over, I slowly stroked a petal, remembering the feel of my baby’s cheeks. I wished I had been able to do that at the end. But all I did was sit there, trapped, listening to her cry. Oh, God, it hurt. It wouldn’t stop hurting.
But it felt better here, somehow. It felt right. Scanning the field, I noticed two small white rocks by a nearby tree. Perfect little stones, round and smooth, so similar to the ones I used to put on the bottom of the vase of flowers Ravi would bring home. He’d tease me about it, that I was trying to make the vase into an aquarium for flowers. I’d laugh, and tell him he had no artistic soul. He’d laugh, because he knew I was lying, and kiss me, because he could.
Carefully picking them up, I brushed them off, wiping the bits of dirt off until they were smooth and white again. They were the same color as the gravestones I had left in New York. The ones I hadn’t been to since the funeral. The ones I couldn’t think about too much without having my heart break all over again. The ones my parents pretended didn’t exist. I placed the rocks by the flowers, nestling them into an empty spot. It felt like I was burying them all over again. A soul-crushing grief enveloped me, making my knees give out. Crumpling to the ground, I buried my face in my hands and started to pray, the words tumbling over each other.
“God? Whoever? Please take care of them. Take care of my Ravi. Take care of my baby. Take care of them…” I choked on a sob. “Hug them close to you. Tell them I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish it would have been me instead…” Rocking back and forth, I let the tears flow. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated over and over again. “It was all my fault and I’m so sorry.”
The wind began to blow, and the smell of turpentine and sweat drifted by. Ravi.
“I’m sorry, Ravi,” I sobbed, knowing without a doubt in my mind that he was here. That he could hear me. “I’m trying so hard, and I can’t. I can’t do it, Ravi.” Hunched over, I cried for all the years I had spent cuddled in his arms, the years I watched him coax magic from his guitar and from his paintbrush. For the years I had spent with a gaping hole in my heart where he used to fit. For the hope that Crawford would be able to fit part of that hole. For the crushing betrayal of realizing that it was all a lie. That everything had been a lie.
“Maddie?” I barely heard my name being called, I was so wrapped up in my grief and my remembering. “Maddie, are you okay?”
Sawdust and sunshine.
Gabe.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice worried.
I swallowed hard. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice stronger. “What are you doing here?”
“I work nearby,” he answered. “I come here to clear my mind every once in a while.”
“Oh,” I said, looking back down at my hands, unwilling for him to see my tearstained face. I should stay away from him. It wasn’t fair for me not to.
Sitting down next to me, he looked at me, silent. I looked down at the two little stones, surrounded by flowers. This felt like a better place for them. Something in me shifted.
“Did anyone hurt you?” he asked.
I shook my head, silent. It was too complicated.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry if I bothered you.”
“You didn’t bother me,” he said, his warm drawl wrapping itself around me like a comforting hug. “I almost didn’t notice you were there.”
I started to get up. I was all cried out. Maybe I would be able to get some sleep now.
“Whoa, where are you going?” he asked gently.
“Going back,” I said. Looking up at his face, I started to drown in his eyes. There was something about him that drew me to him. Something about him that made me think he might understand.
His eyes sharpened. “You were crying,” he said, his voice strangely husky. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded. “I’m okay.”
He was silent for a minute, his face etched with concern. “Do you want me to drive you back?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
He stood, watching my face.
“I don’t get it,” I whispered. “Why are you being so nice to me? Why do you care?”
“Besides basic human decency?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“Maddie, there’s something here,” he said, his voice getting husky. “God only knows what it is. But there’s something about you…and not just because Noie has become attached to you in a way she hasn’t done to anyone else. There’s something, and I don’t know what it is.”
I stood there, shocked at his honesty.
“It’s not just me,” he said, reaching and taking one of my hands. “It can’t be.”
It wasn’t. God, it wasn’t. But it couldn’t mean anything. I couldn’t let it. I didn’t have it in me to survive if something happened.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, voice shaking.
“And you think I can?” he asked. “You think this is any easier for me?” His eyes were haunted.
“Probably,” I said. Slowly withdrawing my hand from his, I looked up at his face one more time. “I have to go,” I turned to walk toward my car.
Leaving him standing behind me.
Again.
“You okay there, darling?” Grandma asked as I came into the kitchen that afternoon to help her close the café.
“A little better,” I said, gathering the menus into a neat stack.
“I was worried about you before,” she scolded as she swept the floor. “You’re working too hard, Maddie.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, contrite. It had been a change, getting used to people being concerned about me again. It had been a while.
“Walk with me after we finish cleaning up in here, okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, stacking the chairs and straightening pillows.
Locking the doors, Grandma turned to me. “Let’s walk toward the beach,” she said. “It’s always easier to think over there.”
The walk to the beach was silent, broken only by saying hi to a few other people out walking. “Maddie, darling, I know this isn’t any of my business,” she began as we began the walk down the boardwalk. “And if I’m being too nosy, just let me know, okay?”
I nodded uneasily.
“Something happened to you before you came here, I know that. Something bad. I don’t know what happened to you, sugar, to make your eyes look like they’ve been through a war. But you can’t live in the shadow of your misery forever.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I know.”
“Honey, can I tell you a story?” I nodded. “When my James died, I thought the whole world would end. I could barely stand to get out of bed in the mornings. It didn’t seem fair that the whole world was moving right along with their day when I was sitting there, not knowing if I would able to put a smile on my face again.” She shuddered. “I hope with everything I have that I never sink to a place like that again, Maddie. It’s a dark place, mourning for someone you love. But after a while, I realized something. That if James was there, watching me carry on and mope like I was, he would be pissed. The same way I would be furious if our positions were reversed.”
She looked at me, her eyes calm and filled with understanding. “I’m not asking you to tell me what happened, darling. But I’m asking you to realize that if you’re not careful, you’ll choke yourself in misery.”
Tears start rolling down my cheeks. Was I ever going to stop crying?
“It happened three years ago,” I whispered. “It’s been three years, and I thought I was over it. I thought I was finished crying. I started to try to move on, and not just hide myself away from feeling anything. I tried—and I thought I was doing a good
job… and then anyone I had left betrayed me.”
That was all I could say. Reliving the past three years was something I had been doing nightly. I didn’t want to have to relive it out loud, too.
Grandma reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently. “Did you cry three years ago, Maddie?” she asked.
I shook my head.
I wasn’t able to cry then. They didn’t let me.
“That’s why, baby doll,” she said. “Tears for something like that don’t just go away because you think you don’t need to shed them. They’ve got to come out—and you’ve been pushing them off and pushing them off. You have to let them go.”
Pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket, she handed it to me. “Let yourself feel again,” she said. “It’s going to be hard. There are going to be things that will make you ask yourself why you bothered trying to keep going. But you’ve got your whole life left to live, love. Don’t waste it wishing it would have turned out differently.”
She stopped walking. “Do you want to come in?” We had stopped in front of a small little beach house. Her house.
I shook my head. “No thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll go back to the apartment.”
“I have the number for someone if you need,” she said, reaching over and patting my cheek. “Just ask me when you feel ready, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks, Grandma,” I whispered.
She smiled softly at me before turning and walking into her house.
The walk back to the café was a long one. She was right, I knew that. But letting go of the pain that had been crippling me for years was a lot easier said than done.
Let yourself feel again, she said.
She’s right, I heard Ravi whisper. Open your heart back up, Maddie-girl.
I had started before at Fort Raleigh, finding the stones for Ravi and Devi. It had hurt so much… almost as much as it did when it had happened. But a small part of me felt comforted. Closing my eyes, I reached down into the depths of my soul, looking for the courage I had hidden there three years ago.
The least I could do now was try.