by J. L. Berg
I was not weak.
I was not powerless.
And I was not going to stand here for one more second.
“I need air,” I managed to say, before I grabbed my keys and purse off the table.
“Everly, please,” Ryan said, touching my shoulder as I made my way to the door.
“So you can speak after all?” I nearly spat, making my way toward the door. I slammed it shut before I could hear another word. They didn’t run after me. They knew my routine. I always ran, always fled.
I’d come back, I always did.
* * *
I should not be here.
I should not be here.
I’d driven all over the city, letting my thoughts wander and wander as I tried to cool my heated temper, but nothing had worked and bit by bit—mile by mile, I’d edged closer and closer to the dark blue sea.
Until I found myself at the cliffs, pulling up to the last place in the world I should be.
Why, when I felt the most alone, did I turn to the person I trusted the least?
I shut off the engine and dimmed the headlights, then I sat in the surrounding darkness, deciding upon my next move.
If I were smart I’d start up the car, back up into the street, and go home.
But tonight—after seeing my best friend and my fiancé gang up against me like some adolescent troublemaker, I was feeling less on the brainy side and bordering on something a bit riskier. Which was probably why I was currently sitting in August’s driveway…contemplating whether I was ever going to get out of my car.
The decision was made for me when a small tapping at my window nearly had me jumping out of my skin. I turned to see August bent over, his hands in his pockets as he took a step back, waiting for me to respond.
I pressed the button to lower the window before realizing I’d already pulled the keys out of the ignition. Taking a steadying breath, I pushed open the door and stepped out, ready to face the decision I’d made by driving here.
“Hi,” I said hesitantly, unable to meet his firm gaze. I instead found a new fascination with the brickwork on the driveway, studying the intricate herringbone pattern that wove beneath my feet.
“Hi,” he replied, mimicking my tone. He didn’t ask why I was there, or expect anything—just stood there, patiently waiting as I moved gravel beneath me. It was then that I noticed his shoes. They were nice—fancier than I’d seen him wear during our excursions around the city—black, shiny…much more reminiscent of the old August—and in stark contrast to the flip-flops I’d thrown on when I’d run out of my own house. Glancing up, I realized he was dressed up as well—but not like he’d once been, with thousand-dollar suits and designer ties. Tonight he was more understated, in a pair of sleek gray trousers that hugged his trim waist. The dusty green shirt he wore matched his eyes perfectly and I had a hard time pulling my own from his gaze.
“You have plans,” I blurted out. “I’m so sorry—I’ve interrupted something.”
Feeling extremely embarrassed, I turned and nearly stumbled into the door of my car. With lightning quick reflexes he caught me, grabbing my waist and righting me before stepping back. His hand had only touched me for a brief moment but I could still feel the heat of it, grazing the bare skin between my jeans and t-shirt.
“Everly, stop—please,” he pleaded. “Why are you here?”
I turned, my hands nearly trembling as I stood before him. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
His eyes rounded as he took in my appearance. “Come on. Why don’t you come inside for a while? Maybe you can make coffee for the both of us?” he suggested.
I nodded, but then asked, “What about your plans?” I looked down at the keys in his hands that he quickly stuffed in his pocket.
“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Okay,” I relented.
I followed him up to the door that still had the brass knocker with our initials on it. I tried to ignore the guilt I felt as I passed through the entryway, but it seared a path through my belly nonetheless.
I was not doing anything wrong. This was just another one of our meetings.
An impromptu meeting between August and me—nothing more.
Tonight, I’d become a grand master at lying to myself.
“Why don’t you start the coffee while I make a quick call?” he suggested, as he shrugged off the light jacket he had on. I stood there watching him tug his shirt from his pants, until I realized I was staring and quickly scurried into the kitchen.
Nothing had changed since the last time I’d been in here, which made me smile. The kitchen had always been my domain, and it felt good to be able to roam around in here without having to think at all. I pulled out cups while the coffee brewed. I didn’t bother listening to August’s conversation. He obviously wanted privacy since he’d walked into the other room, and if he was talking to another women—which I highly suspected he was—I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to hear it.
Knowing I was the cause of a possibly botched date was already weighing heavy on my mind.
I was supposed to be helping him move on…not tread backward. And I had enough guilt when it concerned that man.
“Almost ready?” he asked, stepping into the large space, dominating it instantly. The kitchen could have been a football field wide and it still wouldn’t have been big enough in that instant. His presence had always seemed larger than life, and that was one thing that hadn’t changed—past or present. He could change his clothing style, the way he wore his hair, and even the build of his body, but his invading presence never changed. It always affected me. Invaded me. Took over my senses.
“Just about,” I replied, tapping my fingers against the cold marble countertop in a rhythmic motion. The last bit of coffee brewed, gurgling and steaming until the last drop fell. I quickly turned to grab the sugar and milk and returned ready to fix everything up.
Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.
Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but he smiled. “Just black,” he answered.
I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the milk. I’d grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of sugar and a slash of milk into his cup like I always had.
How easily I’d fallen back into an old routine.
“I take it that’s different?” he spoke up.
“Yes,” I answered, “but good. Now you’re a purist like me.” I gave him the slightest hint of a grin. His eyes narrowed in on my lips, noticing the tiny change in my expression. I quickly wiped it away with a fake cough, using my hand to cover it.
Coward.
I don’t know why I continued to treat him so poorly. After the amount of time we’d spent together, I finally understood the difference. He might carry the same facial features, wear similar clothing and hairstyle, but beyond his physical attributes, August had changed.
For the better.
And yet, I was still hell bent on punishing him for who he’d been before.
Maybe it was left over resentment for the last few years of our relationship—left over feeling seeping through my psyche. Or perhaps I was too afraid to get attached then suddenly discover one day I’d grown close to a man who’d disappeared yet again because his memories had returned.
All great questions to bring up with Tabitha…if only I had the guts.
Admitting them to myself was one thing. Saying them out loud to someone else seemed drastic…like I was actually owning them—acknowledging August as an important person in my life, rather than just contemplating the possibilities in my convoluted, messed-up head.
Picking up my cup of steaming hot coffee, I glanced up at him as he did the same.
“Do you want to sit in the living room?” he offered. I nodded and followed him into the large, inviting space. I’d designed this room for comfort, going against the stuffy professional designer’s idea of style for a more laid-back atmosphere. She
’d chosen sleek leather and hard lines. All I’d envisioned were legs sticking to furniture in the summer and backaches year round. I’d told her to try again, and when she’d come back, clearly peeved, she presented a much less formal idea with soft suedes and plenty of places to kick up your feet and relax.
I wondered, as I took a seat in what used to be my favorite spot—an oversized chair that basically swallowed me whole—if August enjoyed this room now as much as we used to. Before work had become his life, and I’d still had pieces of him to myself, this had been the center of the house for the two of us. Board games, movie nights, and many nights of drinking and debauchery had occurred right here. Where the bedroom had once felt like the beating heart, this room had been our own little slice of heaven right in the middle of our home. With grand views of the Pacific that rivaled those from the master bedroom, you could watch the sun set over the water while listening to the crashing waves below.
But even a view like that could feel like prison when you weren’t allowed to leave.
“Was she upset?” I finally asked, deciding to jump off the tightrope I’d been walking, between wanting to know and not wanting to know what he’d had planned for the evening.
“What—” he began to ask as he looked up at me. My eyebrow cocked in amusement, and a small smirk played across his lips.
“No. Not too much,” he admitted. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”
Looking around, I tried to imagine him here with someone else. In the place that used to be ours. We had planned to raise our children here, and now he would possibly raise his own. Without me.
“This is stupid,” I blurted out. “I shouldn’t have come. You were going on a date, and I ruined that for you. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.” My words were coming out like shrapnel, firing quicker than I could comprehend them as I stood, ready to sprint for the door.
“When did it all go wrong between us? Will you explain it to me?” he asked suddenly, stopping me instantly. I turned to see him, still in his same position on the couch, holding the half-empty cup of coffee I’d made for him, as he looked up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes.
“Why?”
“You know why,” he answered. “I hate mysteries.”
“Okay,” I answered, taking my seat once again, as the adrenaline from my attempt to flee steadied. I took the warm mug in my hands for support and brought it to my lips, savoring the smell, before I spoke.
“There really isn’t a specific day…or moment. Like most couples, it happened gradually. Only ours wasn’t normal—by any means.”
“Why do you think that? I mean, why do you think I changed so much?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“You found something else you loved much more—money.”
“Can it really be that simple? Did I ever seem the type?” He set down his coffee mug and leaned back into the sofa as I tried to study his expression. I couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused—or maybe a little sad.
“No—at least not before. When we first met, you were willing to move into my shack of an apartment to be with me. But we decided to rent a house, and even though it was bigger than anything either of us had ever lived in, it was still in San Francisco…which meant we paid double for the ability to live in what was called a house, but it was literally a shoebox, with nice flower boxes and a balcony.”
“So why did we move? How did I go from being content in a shoe box to needing all this?” he asked, motioning around the room with his hands.
“You moved up in the world, and with money came more. I think at first it was the desire to give me everything I never had, and maybe in some warped way, it continued that way—I don’t know. But after time, it became more about who we were to others than what we were to one another.”
“It just makes no sense to me,” he said softly.
“Me either, but things happen.”
“Then why I do feel so strongly for you still?” he asked, his mouth clamping closed as if he’d suddenly realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Silence settled between us and even though I knew I should leave, I didn’t. I couldn’t move a muscle from that chair, and once more…I didn’t want to.
“Do you like jewelry?” he asked suddenly, out of the blue.
“What?”
He chuckled to himself, tiny lines appearing around his hazel green eyes. “Sorry, it’s random, I know. But just go with it. If you were in one of those small boutiques—like around The Haight, and happened to wander in, what would you buy? A necklace…a scarf, maybe a—“
“A coffee mug,” I answered immediately.
“Like an I-Love-SF mug?” he laughed.
“Yes! I don’t know, maybe. Don’t laugh. It’s your ridiculous question. I collect them. Whenever I’m someplace special, I always try to find a coffee mug I can use—to remind me of that specific day or place.”
He looked at me, somewhat taken aback…maybe slightly bewildered, until a large grin broke out across his face. “A magnet. Okay.”
“What about you? What would you buy?” I asked, throwing his odd question back at him.
“Hmm, nothing probably. I’d rather take photos. Much more meaningful than anything I could buy. Cheaper, too,” he said with a wink.
Like the man needed to worry about his pockets.
“You’ve really gotten back into photography, haven’t you?” I commented, setting my now empty cup on the coffee table between us.
“Well, it’s all new—now. But yes, I’m really enjoying it. It started out as just something I could do to fill in the hours of the day and now when I wake up, it’s the first thing I want to do. In fact, can I show you something?”
I looked around with slight hesitation, and finally nodded. Standing, I followed his lead down the first floor hallway. My heart sprung into a gallop as we neared the farthest corner, and his hand settled on the door handle of his old office. I hadn’t been in that space in years, blaming its four walls for the division between us. So many fights had been started here.
So many battles had been lost as I gave in to his power, unwilling to stand up for myself. Unwilling to let go and walk away.
August had always had a power over me, a certain hold, and it had never been more evident than when he stood behind that mighty desk, like a king surveying his kingdom.
My hands clasped together as sweat dotted my forehead. I would not turn away.
Fear had ruled my life for far too long. It was time to face my demons.
Taking the first step in behind him, it was hard not to notice the obvious changes he’d made. The few windows had been boarded up, covered in dark black cloth, and what once had filled a proud businessman’s office had been pushed aside to make room for photography equipment and makeshift tables.
Even a dark cloth and various chemicals covered the priceless desk August had once loved so dearly.
All of it forgotten.
Replaced.
“You’ve turned it into a dark room,” I stated in awe, looking around at everything he’d assembled in such a short time.
“Well, I’ve started to,” he replied. “It’s taking some time, but I’ve managed to print a few test rolls. Would you like to see?”
“Yes,” I gave a small smile, not even bothering to hide my delight. The fear I’d felt for this room was evaporating with every second that passed, like a calming balm, soothing away the haunting memories as August directed me to the other side of the room to show me what he’d captured.
Each photo was better than the last, and I recognized several scenes from our escapade around San Francisco. Several were of strangers, hugging loved ones, caring for their children—moments in time captured forever. Others were more obscure—a random angle of a building or the way a tree’s shadow met the pavement.
There were even a few of me.
He tried to hide them but I saw my own expression staring back at me.
If I only knew w
hat I’d been trying to say.
Chapter Twenty
August
I hadn’t meant to take her in here.
The words had just flown out of my mouth and here we were, standing in my sacred space, as she fingered through dozen of black and white prints I’d exposed over the last week.
If I’d known she was going to be in here, I would have cleaned.
Organized.
Planned.
Hell, I would have at least removed the photos of her. The ones I found myself staring at when the days got long, and the nights became so lonely I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. I knew darkrooms were a thing of the past—now that digital had taken over the world—but there was something cathartic about standing in almost complete darkness, working on a craft, bridging it slowly to life, rather than sitting hunched over a computer screen.
Each photo brought a little bit of life back into me. It wasn’t my life, perhaps, but it was something. And I watched it all appear like magic in those processing trays. Like tiny glimpses of hope—that maybe one day, I’d have a life worth photographing.
My eyes turned to the small bulletin board I’d put up on the wall for display, and settled in on the single photo I’d pinned up there. Two smiling faces in the grass, looking up at the camera with nothing but hope and happiness in the future.
Maybe someday, I could turn the camera around again and find someone worth capturing.
“Why do you have that?” Everly’s voice asked in the darkness, as I watched the silhouette of her hand stretch toward the bulletin board. In the dull red lights, I saw her finger the photo, her eyes shadowed and her expression hooded as she pulled it from its place on the wall.
“Because you’re smiling,” I answered honestly. I had a feeling too many lies had been told within the walls of this large house. I wasn’t about to add to them.
Not now, hopefully not ever.
“Why is it so important to you?” she asked. I took a step forward to glance over her shoulder. I watched her tense slightly as she felt my approaching presence but she didn’t move.