Pictures of You

by Juliette Caron

  “Okay,” he said flatly.

  “What?”

  “Okay.” He turned to me and grinned.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “My suicide plans are canceled,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Canceled? Not postponed?” I was suspicious. It was too easy.

  “Canceled.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. It’s why I had to see you. I couldn’t get to your apartment fast enough.” I was dumbfounded. I studied his face for clues. “I’m in love with you, September. I just can’t bring myself to leave you.”

  What I did next surprised me as much as it did him. Before I realized it, my hand curled up into a fist and I punched him in the gut. Alarm registered on his face before he doubled over, the breath knocked out of him.

  “Oh, Adrien. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear,” I said, laughing. “But you don’t have a clue what you put me through last night, today. The last two weeks. It was pure hell.”

  As soon as he caught his breath, he smiled a guilty, tortured smile. “I don’t deserve you, September. I’m a selfish creep. I promise you I’ll never put you through that again. I’m here for good. If you’ll have me, that is.”

  Tears cascaded down my face. “Of course I’ll have you. All I want is you.”

  28

  My whole body quaked as Adrien took me in his arms. He held me for a long time as we both cried. He stroked my hair and kissed me softly, making me feel drunk and dizzy. I buried my face in his shoulder as his arms pulled me in tighter.

  “What made you change your mind?” I asked, my voice muffled by his shoulder. I pulled away to study his face. He bit his lip and searched for the right words.

  “I thought about what you said last night. That if I followed through with my plans, I’d hurt my family and friends. But more importantly, I’d hurt the one I love the most.” He gazed at me lovingly for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, anymore. I know I can’t always help it, I’m human. People hurt people—that’s life. But this is something I do have control over.” I nodded. “I was still unsure about things this morning. As much as I love my family, as much as I love you, September...” He paused, searching for the right words. “Love isn’t always enough. Love won’t fix things. You can’t fix me. I need to do this for myself…When I woke up this morning despair crept in, filling every square inch of my body and soul. I thought about ending it all, right then and there in my bed. But something strange happened. A bright light—the sun, I presume—an overwhelming light, whiter than I’d ever seen in my life, came through my window and poured its warmth on me. On my face, on my chest. The warmth felt like pure love.” His eyes watered. “Then I heard a whisper. At least I thought I heard a whisper. I swore I did, but it sounds crazy now. The voice said, ‘Adrien, you’re going to be okay.’ That’s it. Nothing too profound, but the light and the words bore into me, saturating me and then I just knew it. I knew eventually I would be okay, that I’d pull out of this. I haven’t made up my mind about God—whether he’s really there or not. But this thing, this experience this morning…was much bigger than me.”

  “Wow,” I whispered, touching his arm.

  “It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to take a lot of work. It could take months. Years. But if you could get through losing John and Abby and find some happiness, I will—somehow—get through this.”

  “I know you will,” I said and believed it with all my heart.

  We sat saying nothing for a moment, listening to leaves clapping in the wind and distant laughter. I had a lot to digest. I still couldn’t believe that I’d get what I wanted most—Adrien. He was mine. Mine to keep. I never wanted anyone the way I wanted him. But as I studied his face, I saw anxiety written all over it. There was something else. Something he wasn’t telling me. “What? What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  “You’re right. There’s something I have to tell you, September.” His troubled eyes and furrowed brow worried me. “But I can’t…”

  “Tell me,” I urged. “You can tell me anything.”

  He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Come on. You told me your deepest, darkest secret. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more.”

  Adrien raised an eyebrow.

  We watched a little puffy bird frantically eating an old French fry plastered to the ground. Adrien tickled the inside of my arm. It felt great, but I knew it was only a ploy to distract me.

  “Tell me,” I repeated. He sighed, folding his arms. “You’re a very stubborn man, Adrien Gray.”

  “I could say the same about you. Only you’re not a man, thankfully,” he added with a laugh.

  I watched a devilish smile creep up on his lips. “What is it?” I asked, perplexed by his sudden change in mood.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  “What?” How could he want to play Scrabble or Monopoly at a time like this? He was always surprising me, but that was one of the things I loved about him.

  “Starting tomorrow you have to be completely honest with me.”

  I pulled my brows together. “I’m always honest with you—”

  “Here’re the rules. One,” he began, raising a finger. “I get to ask you whatever I want. You have to answer all my questions with pure, unadulterated honesty. Two. You don’t get to ask any questions in reply. Not even one.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” He placed a finger over my lips. “And then I’ll tell you…the thing…after your folks’ party.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now?” Chills shot through me as his finger moved away from my mouth and traced the outline of my jaw. His green eyes bore deeply into mine.

  “You’ll understand later. Is it a deal?”

  I moaned, frustrated and confused. I hated secrets. I knew I could make myself sick tearing it apart, analyzing it. But I was more relieved than anything. Relieved that he was here. Here to stay. Mine, hopefully for forever.

  “It’s a deal,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re a complete weirdo—and I love that about you, by the way—but it’s a deal.”

  When we got back to his car, the sky turned to a murky, dishwater gray. As he opened the door for me, I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. We kissed enthusiastically, but there was something sad about the kiss, like it would be our last one, like we were saying goodbye. I finally pulled away, catching my breath.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re still leaving me?” I asked, searching for answers in his baby grass green eyes.

  He was quiet for a time, his lips turned downward. Finally he said, “I won’t leave you. Ever. I promise.” He said it with confidence, but a flicker of pain in his eyes had me doubting. I never could’ve predicted in a thousand years what he would say after that: “But after tomorrow tonight, you’re going to leave me.”

  ***

  “Is everything okay? You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” Chris asked as I worked up a foam on the restroom counter. Standing behind me, he watched for my response in the reflection of the dirty mirror.

  “Huh?”

  “What’s going on? You’ve scrubbed that same spot for like a year now.”

  “Oh. I guess I’m just worn out. Long week. Long couple of weeks. No, actually long five months. The longest five months of my life.” I sighed, wishing I could make an early date with my pillow. I was so tired. Utterly wasted. I couldn’t remember a time I was more exhausted.

  “You’ve been through a lot. With your stupid ex dumping you, with Abby. And now you’re wasting your time with that suicidal loser.” I heard a toilet seat slam.

  Normally I would’ve argued, defended myself. I would have explained how everything was different now, but I didn’t have even an ounce of energy left to explain the turn of events. I would tell Chris everything. Later. All I knew
was that I desperately needed a good night’s sleep, then tomorrow I’d get to spend the whole day with the boy I loved, the boy who’d chosen to stick around—in part to be with me. I was too worn out to let it sink in that I’d be bringing a boyfriend to my parents’ party. (A boyfriend! Did that mean Adrien was my boyfriend now? I liked the sound of that.) I’d have plenty of time to feel smug tomorrow.

  “What is it, Tember?” Chris asked after our ten minute break. I’d spent the break resting on a sofa in the lounge, making a failed attempt to take a nap. Usually Chris and I spent our breaks together, playing cards, watching funny videos on his phone. But my relentless thoughts wouldn’t leave me be. I was dying to know the final secret Adrien kept from me and why he was certain I would leave him. Of course I wouldn’t leave him. I was too gone on him now to leave him. I’ve never loved a guy more than I loved Adrien Gray. It would take something pretty colossal to change my mind about him. He’d have to be a member of the KKK or a puppy torturer or a neo-Nazi. What made him so sure I’d leave him? Was he really that insecure? Did he not realize how crazy about him I was?

  Maybe I’d have to take a sleeping pill tonight. Rose had written me a prescription months earlier when I’d complained of insomnia. It was during the nightmare period, when I was forced to replay the accident over and over each night. I’d only used them twice but held onto the bottle just in case. Tonight might be one of those nights, tonight I may need a little something to barricade these thoughts.

  I sighed. I was so tired. I probably should have just called in sick. But I would have felt like a total jerk leaving Chris with all this work to do, especially since I’d been neglecting him more lately. “Can we talk later? I’m pooped.”

  Chris eyed me carefully, his face drenched in concern. “Sure. Later.”

  Tonight was different from any other night. For the first time since we’d met, we worked side by side in silence. Chris gave up trying to start a conversation. He put in his ear buds and listened to the classic rock stuff he loved so much. I felt kind of bad and wondered what would become of Chris and me, now that Adrien was definitely in the picture—long term.

  After we finished the final restroom, I pulled off my rubber gloves and tossed them into the garbage, then kicked off my blue jumper. “See you Monday, Chris,” I said, pulling on my jacket, happy the night was over, overjoyed to become one with my bed.

  “See you, September.” He frowned. “Good luck with tomorrow night. I really wish I could be there for you.” He rested a hand on my back for a small moment.

  I knew I should’ve said something. He’d probably worry about me all weekend because he was that way—so sweet and selfless and concerned—and he was one of my closest friends. I knew I’d been selfish lately, neglecting our friendship, taking Chris for granted. And I did feel guilty about it. But the image of my snuggly bed pulled me away from doing the right thing, the considerate thing.

  One more thing pulling me away from Chris.

  29

  “Your all-time favorite song?”

  “With Or Without You by U2.”

  “That’s a good one,” Adrien said, nodding in approval.

  “What can I say? My taste is impeccable,” I said, sitting on the living floor Indian-style, fiddling with my camera while Adrien, on the couch, played with my hair. I closed my eyes from time to time, enjoying the tingles shooting through my body, sinking deeper and deeper into a restful bliss. The apartment was quiet. We could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the guitar-shaped clock hanging by the entertainment center. Although it was late morning, Mary was still in bed.

  “Favorite food?”

  “I think you know this one. Indian.”

  He twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. “That’s right. Vegetable coconut kurma.”

  “You remembered,” I said, touched.

  “It was a memorable first date. I’m sorry I took off like that.”

  “It’s over now,” I said, shrugging.

  “Favorite time of year?” he asked, his strong hands kneading the back of my neck now, loosening the knots.

  “September,” I answered. “It’s my birth month, after all. And I love summer. Mmm. That feels great. You should consider doing this professionally.”

  “Hmm, maybe I will. I guess I do need to find a job now. I wonder if Mike would be willing to give me my old job back. Which brings me to the next question: favorite car?”

  “Volkswagen Beetle. I have to make a confession: I don’t drive—anymore, I mean. Since the accident, it freaks me out. I tried, but I get panic attacks.”

  His hands stopped mid-massage. “Really? Do you think you’ll ever drive again?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe someday. And maybe if I wore a football helmet and maybe some body armor and drove only on the back roads,” I said, partially kidding.

  Mary stumbled into the room, still in her pajamas, her newly dyed purple hair in tangled disarray. Mascara streaks loitered the sides of her swollen face—a big clue she had been crying.

  “Bad night?” I asked, laughing nervously.

  “Something like that,” she said, yawning, scratching her armpit.

  “Are you okay? You look like you were crying,” I probed.

  “Keaton and I had a little fight. Nothing major.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said and I was surprised I meant it. I guess I was okay with Abby’s boyfriend moving on now. I mean what did I expect? That he’d wear sackcloth and ashes forever? It’s not like I wasn’t making other friends—so why shouldn’t Keaton be able to date? Abby would always be a huge part of us, but I know she would’ve wanted us to live our lives.

  She shrugged. “Not a big deal. His band is leaving tomorrow for a tour. He doesn’t want me to come.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Who knows? This is why I usually try to avoid men,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. She poured herself some coffee and got started on breakfast.

  Adrien shrugged, his face amused. He continued our silly game. “Favorite Abby memory?”

  “That’s impossible. There’re just too many,” I said, turning around to face him. “Wait, I know. Probably when we went on that cross-country road trip just before the accident. It was magical. Other than to end up in LA, we didn’t make any plans. It was all spontaneous. We’d drive until we couldn’t stand it anymore and stay at random cheap motels. We stayed up late eating junk food and watching bad cable TV. We’d stop and check out these silly tourist traps, like Olney, Illinois, the mecca of albino squirrels and the International UFO Museum in Roswell, New Mexico.”

  Adrien laughed. “Albino squirrels?”

  “You should go there sometime. They are so cute. Abby and I were tempted to kidnap one and take it home for a pet. Of course Tiger would’ve probably tried to eat it, plus we weren’t sure if we could housetrain a squirrel.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “In LA we practically lived on the beach. We checked out the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the Walmart of music stores, Amoeba and ate the best veggie burgers in the world. We went to the Getty museum and to the Santa Monica Pier and to Disneyland.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “We fought a little, of course, plus we got some food poisoning from this hole-in-the-wall diner in Texas, but other than that, the trip couldn’t have been more perfect. I never, in a million years, would’ve guessed she’d never be coming home, though. I guess I’m glad things ended on such a perfect note.” I sighed. “I only wish we had more time together.”

  “Do you hate the guy who killed Abby?” he asked, his hands moving to my tight shoulders.

  “I used to. But I’ve had some time to think about it and I’m pretty sure now that he—whoever he was—didn’t do it intentionally.” His hands dug deeper, softening the knots. “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?”

  “It hurts but it’s a good hurt. Keep going. Ahhh, you are spoiling me…”

  “You we
re saying?”

  “People are basically good, right? I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. You don’t know what was going through his head. He could’ve just—”

  “But he just took off. Left you and Abby for dead. The coward didn’t even stop to see if you were okay.”

  “I’m sure there was a reason for all of it. And maybe the guy was a total jerk. Or maybe it was an honest mistake. A horrible, awful, but honest mistake. Who knows? I’m not going to let it make me bitter anymore. I refuse to let it ruin my life. I chose to forgive him. It wasn’t easy. Those books Chris lent me have helped a lot. Rose, my therapist, is helping me with it, too. It’s a lot of work, forgiveness. It takes time. For some people, years. I can’t say I’m one-hundred-percent there, but I’m getting there.”

  “How can you forgive someone you’ve never met?”

  “I chose forgiveness for myself. Forgiving the guy who hit us…it isn’t saying what he did was okay. Forgiving him, whoever he was, whether he deserves forgiveness or not, is about liberating myself. It’s a gift you give yourself. I wasn’t going to let this anger—this hate—eat me alive. Life is a gift. I know that now. Even the accident, as tragic as it was, was a gift in a weird way. I’ve never appreciated anything the way I do now. I don’t take things for granted anymore. I don’t take the people I love for granted. The accident—it woke me up. And,” I took a deep breath, “I’m stronger now. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I believe that. Do you?”

  He paused. “I don’t know if I do. Everything I’ve been through—it’s killing me. Little by little.”

  I hesitated. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

  He answered with a bitter laugh. I decided it would be better not to push my luck. There was a long pause. As he kneaded my back and shoulders, we listened to Mary humming and making herself a late-morning breakfast—a Pop-Tart wrapper being ripped open, eggs sizzling in a hot pan.