Coming of Age

by Ciana Stone

  He never wanted it to end and when it did, when her lips left his, he wanted only to pull her back.

  She ran her hand over the side of his face. “I will never forget that. Not as long as I live.”

  He was quite sure he would not either.

  The Present

  “You were my first,” he said. “The first time I’d been kissed by a woman. You remember what you said?”

  She looked at him sadly. “I never forgot Max. I won’t ever.”

  “Then tell me why, Livi? Why did you leave me?”

  She turned away and walked to the door. “I think you should go, Max.”

  “Why won’t you answer?”

  “Max, it won’t make a difference. It’s done. We can’t undo it or go back. Those times are memories that we won’t forget, but that’s all they are.”

  He picked up the box from the bed, walked to the door, and handed it to her. “Maybe you’re right, Livi. Maybe I was wrong. About a lot of things.”

  He walked out and didn’t look back until he reached the elevator. Her door was closed.

  And apparently, a chapter in his life was closed as well. Just like before, she was lost to him.

  Chapter Four

  It had been two weeks since Olivia returned to New York. In that time, she’d looked at the box Max had left a dozen times a day and still had not opened it.

  She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. More emotional pain? More regrets?

  Unable to stand the solitude and the threat of “the box” she called her best friend, Lydia Ozoro and invited her for drinks at one of their favorite bars.

  Olivia decided to forego trying to hail a cab. It was twelve blocks, but the walk would do her good, clear her head.

  She made it to the bar ahead of Lydia and ordered a Crown on the rocks. It wasn’t until after she’d ordered that she realized she’d ordered her “despondent” drink. She almost shoved it aside, but figured it was a shame to waste a good drink.

  Lydia arrived, took one look at Olivia, and ordered the same. “You look like shit warmed over, girl.”

  “Well, gee, thanks Lyd. Nice to see you, too.”

  Lydia passed the sarcasm off with a wave of her hand. “You ready to tell me what’s been eating you? You’ve been mean as a snake ever since you got back from Charlotte.”

  Olivia took a sip of her drink, gathering her thoughts. No one but Lydia knew about Max. Hell, no one but Lydia knew the whole story of Olivia’s life. Not even the shrink she’d been seeing for the last two years.

  “Max.”

  Lydia’s eyes widened and she reached across the table for Olivia’s hand. “You having flashbacks to when you were in that bombing? If it’s the PTSD acting up maybe you—“

  “That’s who I went to shoot, Lyd. In Charlotte.”

  “You have got to be kidding?”

  “I wish.”

  Lydia made a face. “Hold on. I thought you were going to shoot some hot director?”

  “Yeah. M.E. Clearman. Maxwell Edward Clearman.”

  “Fuck me sideways! Didn’t you know before you left it was him?”

  “No. You know me. I don’t follow that stuff. Hell, I don’t even read the magazine and it pays my bills.”

  “Word, girlfriend, it might pay to stay up with current events.”

  “That’s a little like twenty-twenty hindsight.”

  “Yeah. So, how much has he changed?”

  “Not much. No, a lot. No, both. He’s older, more handsome. Confident.”

  “And rang your bell?”

  Olivia propped her elbows on the table, lowered her face into her hands, and stared at the tabletop. “He wanted to know why I left him.”

  “Oh oh. Did you tell him?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Well why not? It’s not like you did something horrible or evil, Liv. You did what you thought was the right thing. And it’s not like you had a choice.”

  “And look where that landed me,” Olivia replied.

  “Okay, we are not going there, again. You can’t blame everything that’s happened to you on that.”

  “Can’t I?” Olivia looked up at her friend. “What if I hadn’t left? What if I’d followed my heart instead of my head? What if I hadn’t been so fucking scared--?”

  “Now hold on,” Lydia’s voice took on a scolding tone. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you beat yourself up again. You thought you were doing the right thing. And yeah, you were scared about what people would say. It’s not like is it now. Cougars are mainstream today. Then, it was a different tale. A woman hooks up with a man a dozen years younger and it was cradle robbing. There were prejudices then that don’t exist now.

  “And, “she raised one index finger for emphasis. “ Had you not left, you wouldn’t have become one of the top photojournalists in the world. You wouldn’t have won a Pulitzer for your work during 9/11 and in Iraq and… you wouldn’t have come to New York and found the best friend in the world you could ever wish for.”

  Olivia smiled at the tail end of the diatribe. “I know. I do. I know all that, Lyd. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate all the opportunities and success. Not to mention having the best friend in the world. But looking back, I have to ask if it was worth it. I’m forty years old and all I have is a couple of nice awards, a little money, and an empty bed. I’m tired of being alone.”

  “That’s your choice, Liv. Now don’t give me that ‘eat-shit-and-die’ look. You know it’s true. You sabotage every relationship you have as soon as the guy starts getting serious. You’re not alone because you can’t find a man. You’re alone because no man you find is him.”

  Olivia sat up as if someone had jabbed her in the back with a sharp stick, staring at her friend in shock.

  “Gawk, all you want, you know I’m right,” Lydia said. “And now suddenly he shows up and he wants answers. Is that all he wants – just answers? Or is he like you, measuring every woman he meets against a memory, and finding the woman coming up short? Maybe it’s time you finally faced him and yourself about what happened and figure out how to move past it.

  “Cause, honey girl, I love you but even I have my limits and this Debbie Downer mode you’re hanging onto is starting to wear on me.

  “You’ve got everything in the world going for you. Success, money. Hell, you survived a fucking bomb. You’re talented, smart, and beautiful and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be enjoying the hell out of your life.

  “But you won’t let yourself because of Max. Those six months you spent with him have become a fucking prison and you’re like someone with the Stockholm syndrome. You won’t let go and let yourself be happy.”

  “Lyd, it’s not—“

  “Liv, it is. Look, I do love you and I’m saying this because I do. Find Max and answer his questions. Ask the ones you have. Then figure out how to let go and move on. It’s time. It’s way past time.”

  Olivia wanted to argue, but what would be the point? Lydia was right. She was holding herself down, afraid to move forward and afraid to look back. She was in limbo and it was self-created.

  Time for her to take control of her life again. And the first step was finding out what was in the box Max gave her.

  She hugged her friend, thanked her, and literally ran home. One there, she took the box from the top of the dresser and sat down on the bed.

  One deep breath and she opened it. Inside were letters and printed emails. Hundreds of them. She dumped the box on the bed and started sorting, according to the dates on the postmarks and headers of the emails.

  The oldest was dated in August of 2001 and the newest just a few months ago.

  How could he have written so much? She looked at the letters. Most were unopened, marked as undeliverable, but some had never been mailed. The emails were the same. Emails he’d composed that had been returned.

  He must have saved everything.

  Suddenly it seemed vital that she know what he had to say
. She started with the oldest, tearing open the envelope to remove the folded pages.

  Dear Livi

  *****

  Olivia had not slept and had existed on caffeine and granola bars for three days. She’d read Max’s letters and emails repeatedly.

  It was hard to imagine that he’d continued to write all these years. Even more of a surprise was the photos included with some of the letters, photos of times they were together.

  She never realized he was taking so many shots of her. Particularly not photos of her while she slept. She had taken several out of town gigs while Max worked for her, and had taken him with her.

  Being determined to keep distance between them as much as possible, she always booked two hotel rooms. Not that they’d used them. More times than not, they ended up in her room, watching television, eating takeout and talking. Max normally fell asleep on the foot of her bed, or if there were two beds in the room, on the empty bed.

  Or so she thought. Apparently, he was quite busy while she slept. While it made her a little uneasy to see photos of herself asleep, she had to acknowledge his skill. With little to no light, he’d managed to manipulate the exposure and produce some great images.

  She picked up one from the bed. She remembered the place because of the ugly curtains they had made fun of. In the photo, light from the overhead bulbs along the walkway in front of the rooms seeped through a part in the curtain, casting a slanted ray across her on the bed.

  She was on her back with her face turned toward the camera. The bedcovers were tangled, covering her from navel to knees and the tank top she wore had risen up, exposing her torso.

  Olivia studied the image and thought of that weekend. It took place just a few weeks before Max’s high school graduation. They were in Wilmington to shoot a wedding.

  May 2001

  It was a beautiful beach wedding and Olivia was psyched about the great shots they’d gotten. Held at one of the luxury hotels, the parents of the bride had spared no expense, including the healthy fee Olivia had charged.

  Once the reception was over, they packed up and headed back to their rooms. They’d been given a nice suite with an adjoining bedroom. The bride’s mother insisted they take a few bottles of champagne with them as additional thanks for their hard work.

  Olivia didn’t refuse, even though she was already feeling the effects of the champagne she’d consumed after the bride and groom had left to go to the airport. The bride’s parents had insisted that she and Max knock off, dance, drink, and enjoy the end of the event.

  She’d enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much. She and Max had danced and shared more than one long look that had her blood running a little hot. Not to mention the sizzle she had from the way he looked in his suit. More than one female at the reception had been eyeing him, and quite a few had asked him to dance.

  He’d told her about past girlfriends and his perceived lack of popularity and she was sure that his shyness was what kept girls from cozying up to him. He saw himself as very average, and that perception he had of himself kept him from initiating things with the opposite sex.

  Tonight should have demonstrated quite clearly that the opposite sex definitely found him appealing. She was glad for him and a little ashamed that she was jealous. Maybe she was just accustomed to having his attention. Maybe she was just a little drunk.

  Whatever the case, she couldn’t help but admire him as he crossed the suite towards the balcony door where she’d taken a bottle of the champagne and was watching as he put away the equipment.

  He loosened his tie as he walked to her and that simple act brought lusty thoughts to mind. Thoughts of more than his tie being removed. She shook away the thoughts and handed him the bottle of champagne as he stopped beside her.

  “I’m pretty toasted,” he said as he accepted the bottle from her. “You sure you want this?”

  “Do you?”

  He shook his head, put the bottle down on a small table, and leaned against the railing of the balcony, facing her.

  “So what do you want to do?” she asked.

  He smiled at her. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Sure I do.”

  He shook his head and looked down. Olivia moved closer. She put her hand under his chin to lift his face enough that he was looking at her. “Come on. What?”

  His smile faded and the look that replaced it took her breath. Suddenly every cell in her body seemed filled with a longing that was near painful in its intensity.

  “This,” he said softly and pulled her into his arms.

  Olivia wasn’t the most romantic woman in the world, but the kiss was like a homecoming. Love, lust, joy, pain, sorrow, and need all exploded into a wholeness that could only be described as home, a place she belonged.

  Maybe that’s what she craved the most because for a brief moment she forgot the difference in age and experience. She forgot her fears for the future and sank into the moment.

  “Livi,” he whispered against her lips when the kiss ended.

  If ever she had heard love, it was uttered in that one word. It elated her. But on the heels of elation, reality crashed in and she was back to being a woman trying not to fall in love with a boy.

  “Max,” she put her hand on the side of his face, allowing herself one final touch. “We can’t.”

  The look on his face clearly communicated his disappointment but to his credit, he nodded. “I know jailbait.”

  She nodded and let her hand fall away. “Want to go for a walk or something?”

  “No.”

  “TV?”

  He shook his head and took her hand. “Would it be against the rules to just lie on the bed and listen to the surf for a while?”

  Her first reaction was to say yes, but the look in his eyes, that plea within their depths overruled. “I think we can bend the rules a little.”

  They went inside and fully dressed, lay on her bed. Max gathered her to his side so that his arm held her and her head rested on his chest. Olivia laid there, eyes open, listening to his breathing and the sound of the waves on the shore.

  Her hand lay on his chest. When his hand covered hers and she felt his lips on her forehead, she closed her eyes, wishing she were ten years younger or he was ten years older.

  Thoughts of “if only” followed her to into sleep and into a place where she could love Max freely.

  The Present

  She could still remember how it felt to wake in his arms, to look up and see him watching her. To see the love shining in his eyes, the wanting and frustration battling for control. She could feel it now, that overwhelming desire to make everything different, to make it possible.

  And she could remember the feeling that twisted her heart at the knowing that no matter what she felt, this thing with Max was not meant to be.

  Even now, those feelings tore at her. She tucked the photo back into the envelope and picked up the last letter he’d written and allowed herself to do something she’d wanted to do for a long time.

  She cried. Cried for the young woman she’d been who was too afraid to follow her heart. She cried for letting her fear dictate her decisions. She cried for the anguish and hurt she’d caused him and for the loss of something so rare and precious.

  She cried for them both and for her fear that it was too late to mend that hurt.

  And when she was cried out, she slept. For sixteen straight hours. She woke feeling weak, hungry, and for the first time in what felt like forever, determined.

  She reached for her phone and called her boss. She needed a favor. At first, he was hesitant but in the end, he gave her what she wanted. Max’s phone number.

  Olivia’s hand shook as she dialed Max’s number. It rang four times. She decided she’d hang up if it went to voice mail.

  Then he answered. “Hello?”

  “Max? It’s Livi.”

  Chapter Five

  The Present

  Max had just a few months until his book released. His publisher had alre
ady set up a tour, twelve cities in six weeks.

  The producer who’d purchased the rights to the book was already bugging Max for a script. He wanted to get into pre-production as soon as possible.

  Max had been working on the script, or trying to. Ever since he saw Livi, his focus had been shot. Had she read the letters? Surely, she would have read them?