Remembering Us

by Stacey Lynn

  Adam’s cradling me in his arms and we’re both soaking wet. It was right after Kelsey hosed me down with the water and I almost slipped on the pavement.

  “I love you,” I tell him, and kiss him again. His lips press harder against me, his hand brushes down the side of my cheek and he leans me back onto the floor, climbing on top of me.

  “I will love you forever.”

  “You better. Not like you can get better.” My laugh turns into a gasp as soon as Adam leans down, nips at my collar bone and rocks his pelvis into me.

  “Amy?” Kelsey’s voice cuts through the haze, and I open my eyes. We’re sitting in my apartment building parking lot.

  I suddenly don’t want to go in, knowing it’s empty and knowing the reason is because Adam didn’t trust me to not run from him when I heard what his dad did to his mom. Shame fills me and it might be unwarranted, but I have to make this right.

  “I called Zander,” Kelsey says, and unbuckles. “I told him I plan on staying here tonight. You don’t need to be alone right now.”

  I nod and then frown. I was so out of it I didn’t even hear her on the phone in the car? I blow out a breath, overwhelmed, and get out of the car.

  She follows me into the apartment, and once inside, I head directly to my closet. The one Adam and I shared.

  I hear Kelsey’s footsteps following me. I don’t stop to look at her. I feel possessed. On a mission to see the truth confirmed. How happy Adam and I were. How much he loved me.

  How much I loved him.

  I dig through the closet, laughing silently that empty shoeboxes cover the floor and are stacked four boxes high.

  When I find the one I saw in my memory, I pull it out, sinking down to my knees, resting my butt on my heels. My fingers hover over the top.

  Kelsey puts a hand on my thigh and nudges her shoulder into mine. “Open it.”

  I turn to her and give her a shaky smile. She nods and I do what she said.

  I gasp.

  Inside, the box is jammed packed with hundreds, if not thousands, of photos.

  But the sheer enormity of my obsession of printing out photos in the day of digital technology doesn’t faze me.

  The pale blue box sitting right on top does.

  My hands fly to my mouth as if I am seeing him ask me again for the very first time. Tears drip down my cheeks and I feel Kelsey’s arms wrap around me.

  “You remember,” she says softly. Happily.

  “Everything.” I sniff and reach out for the box. I hold it. Wanting to open it but nervous. It’s not mine to have yet, not until Adam gives it to me. I bite the edge of my bottom lip, wiping my eyes, and smile at Kelsey.

  “I need your help.”

  Kelsey makes the phone calls after I hand over my credit card while I throw some clothes in a carry-on.

  Adam may not have wanted me to be there for him, but that was before.

  Now I want to be there to support him. He needs me and I plan on being there for him, just like I now know he was always there for me.

  I throw the bag over my shoulder and head out to the kitchen where I hear Kelsey talking on the phone with Zander. He’s going to try to see if he can figure out where the parole hearing is.

  I take the corner into our kitchen too sharply and my hip slams into the green, retro-looking metal table.

  “This couch is perfect.”

  Adam scowls, but his eyes are laughing at me. I look around the consignment store.

  “It’s stained and looks like a rat died in it.”

  “Exactly. We’ll never care if we get it dirty. Oh look! A coffee table with water rings,” I say, clapping my hands. “Perfect!”

  “You’re being really weird.”

  “I never had this stuff. Things that felt like a home instead of a museum. Just let me, please?” I ask, fisting his shirt in my hands. I try to pout but fail miserably.

  Adam laughs and pulls me to him. “You’re insane and I love you. If you want shitty furniture, shitty furniture is what you’ll get.”

  “Yes!” I do a fist pump, dancing around the smelly and dusty consignment store while I pick out other completely mismatched pieces for our apartment.

  I blink and start laughing, my hand running along the top of possibly the ugliest kitchen table in the entire world.

  “You okay?” Kelsey pockets her phone and walks toward me cautiously.

  I shake my head, smiling. “Why would anyone ever let me buy such hideous shit?” My laughter takes the sting out of the words.

  Kelsey smiles. “Do you really need to ask?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  We have all this ugly shit because Adam loved me enough to let me have everything I wanted.

  I love him. I know I do.

  I know it through the very depth of my being and I’m on pins and needles just wanting to be with him, to help him, and to tell him.

  There’s no way this can wait until he’s back home in a couple of days.

  “Okay then.” Kelsey claps her hands together and heads toward the front door. “There’s a direct flight in just about four hours. You’ll have to wait for a few hours, but it’s the best I could do. Zander’s going to get a hold of Adam and find out where he’s going to be, but he’s promised not to tell him why he needs to know.”

  I follow Kelsey out the door, nodding like I’m listening, but I’m not.

  I’m as nervous as a virgin on prom night.

  I don’t get into the Des Moines airport until ten o’clock, and by the time I rent a car and drive to the hotel, it’s after midnight. I’m exhausted but so hopped up on adrenaline that I feel like I could still run a marathon.

  I flip-flop between getting my own room or finding Adam’s and confessing everything. Maybe I’ll have more control, be calmer, if I sleep on everything for the night and let the memories that have returned settle into something more peaceful.

  Right now, I feel like a volcano ready to explode. Everything is bubbling right under the surface of my skin and just waiting to erupt.

  But I can’t wait.

  I’ve made Adam wait long enough, and now, knowing everything that we went through to be together, I feel like such a bitch in how I’ve treated him. How amazing he is for sticking by me for the last few months, never leaving my side or completely giving up on me with my insane breakdowns.

  I have taken my anger and frustration out on him when he’s the one who has kept me grounded.

  He’s made me brave.

  He’s made me strong.

  And there’s nothing I want to do more than be able to do the same thing.

  With a deep breath, I walk through the lobby to the Heartland Hotel where I know he’s staying, thanks to Zander. I ignore the front desk and head straight for the elevators like I belong there.

  My hands fidget nervously along the hem of my shirt and I smooth the wrinkles out of my pants. Except, I’m wearing jeans and they don’t wrinkle. I feel like such a wreck.

  My heart is doing jumping jacks inside my chest, pounding faster and louder with every step I take down the hall way to his room.

  I freeze outside his hotel room, one hand raised to knock on the door. My knuckles rap on the wood three times, then four, before I use both hands to hold the shoulder strap of my overnight bag. My eyes look all over the hall and my feet won’t stay still as I fidget back and forth – waiting for him to come to the door.

  But he doesn’t come.

  What if he isn’t here?

  I raise my hand to knock again, but I stop and dig my cell phone out of my bag. Maybe I should call him first. He’s probably sleeping and won’t hear me knocking, but he always has his phone next to him.

  I step away from his door and dial his number. The phone shakes against my ear as I hold it, but he doesn’t pick up. I can hear it ringing inside of his room but he doesn’t answer. I can’t believe he’d ignore my phone call.

  Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I raise my hand and knock on his door. Louder
this time, but he still doesn’t answer. Nothing greets me on the other side of the door besides complete silence, and I don’t know what to do now.

  Where could he possibly be at midnight?

  I slink to the floor and rest my head against the wall next to his door. My adrenaline must have crashed because I suddenly feel completed defeated. My head drops back against the wall and I close my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm down and figure out what to do next.

  I can always get my own room. I can wait until tomorrow to see him or come back later and see if he’s back yet.

  My eyes burn with unshed tears and the ring box burns a whole in my pocket as I wonder where he could possibly be on the night before he has to go before a parole board, and for the first time in his life, tell someone the story of what happened the night his mom died.

  Suddenly, I know exactly where he will be.

  I pick up my bag and toss it over my shoulder. I don’t feel nearly as nervous heading to the hotel bar as I did on my way to the room. I know Adam better than anyone now.

  He’s probably at the bar, elbows resting on the bar, and his hands are probably tearing apart the label on a Sam Adam’s beer bottle. Something I now know he only does when he’s nervous or angry.

  I smile in the elevator and it doesn’t disappear when I step out of it again, picturing the frown line between his eyes that I imagine he has, thinking about what he has to do and what he has to say.

  With a confidence that somehow emerged in the elevator ride, I walk through the lobby and enter the bar with my shoulders straight back and my eyes straight ahead. There are only a half dozen men and women sprinkled through the small and darkened bar, but there is only one man sitting at the bar.

  I almost laugh when I see him on the bar stool, end of the bar, elbows at the edge, just like I imagined he would be.

  I do know him.

  Slowly, I walk up behind him and take a seat next to him. He doesn’t look at me until he hears the thump of my bag hitting the floor.

  He glances at the bag, and then at me, before turning away for a split second.

  Then his head snaps back to mine. His eyes fly open and his jaw drops to the bar.

  “Hi,” I say, softly but confidently.

  His eyes grow. “What?” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe I’m really here. He probably can’t believe I’d do this for him. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

  I take a deep breath.

  The speech I’ve rehearsed over and over for the last six hours is immediately forgotten, and I blurt out, “You let me buy shitty furniture because I always felt like I lived in a museum.”

  A tear falls down my cheek, but I don’t brush it away. I want him to see how much he means to me. He frowns and reaches for me, clearly confused.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I know,” I tell him, and hold his hand with mine, resting both on my knee. “I know,” I repeat with conviction. “I know that I only went on a first date with you because you won our bet and got an ‘A’ on your statistics mid-term. I know that you let me cry on your shoulder when I told you all about my mom and how I would never be good enough for her. I know you chased me out of your frat house the night Tina jumped into your arms and we walked around campus for two hours that night because I didn’t want to go back to the party, but you didn’t want to tell me good night. I know you call me Ames because it’s the town where your mom grew up.”

  I wipe away a tear and continue. “I know that you bought me a camera for Christmas because you knew it was my favorite hobby in the entire world, and you wanted me to bring everything else to light like you told me I did for you … brought you out of the darkness. I know that my parent’s didn’t scare you away even when we were kicked out of my parent’s house during Thanksgiving dinner.”

  I take a deep breath. “I know that the only reason I was brave enough to quit the job offered to me at my dad’s old firm was because you gave me the strength to be whoever I wanted to be.”

  “Amy,” he says, and leans forward, brushing tears off my cheeks and one side of his lips lifts into a small grin. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  I laugh through my tears. “Because I went for a walk to the cliffs with Kelsey this morning.”

  His eyes widen. “The cliffs?”

  I nod and close my eyes. “I remembered. The mud slide. Everything.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the light blue box. He looks at my hand and the longest and loudest breath escapes his lips. I place it on the bar and slide it toward him, but he doesn’t touch it.

  “I haven’t opened it. I found it in the box in our closet with all of our pictures. I remember everything, Adam. I don’t know how it happened, but everything just flooded my mind today, and as soon as it happened I knew I had to come here. To be with you.”

  His lips are on mine, hard and fast, before I can blink. He doesn’t deepen it. He just pulls me to him, pressing me against his lips, and his hand holding my neck firmly.

  He pulls away, taking a deep breath, but I hold him close. My lips just brush his.

  “I love you, Adam,” I whisper to him softly.

  His fingers dig into my skin and his eyes close tightly. When he opens them, his own eyes are wet and filled with unshed tears.

  “I was starting to think I’d never hear you say that again.”

  “I know,” I choke out. I’m completely losing control of myself. “But I do. Now that I know everything, can see everything so clearly … I’m so sorry for doubting you. Doubting us.”

  “Don’t,” he scolds me, and he looks serious. His eyes glance at the ring box on the bar and back to me. “Don’t be sorry. Maybe I should have told you from the beginning. I just didn’t know the right thing to do.” His hand on my neck loosens, and his hand slowly runs down my arm to the bar until he holds the box in his hands.

  My heart skips a beat and I smile nervously.

  “So you didn’t look at it?” I shake my head, and his eyebrows pull together. “Do you not want - “

  “Oh, I want,” I say, cutting him off. I chew on my bottom lip, staring at the box. “I just thought you should be the one to give it to me.”

  His tongue runs slowly across the top of his lip. Slowly and seductively.

  I have the sudden urge to grab him by the neck and kiss him until our lips are swollen. But we’re in public so I refrain. Barely.

  “I see,” he says, and holds the box.

  He stares at it but doesn’t open it and I frown, wondering why he isn’t giving it back to me, asking me to marry him – again.

  He slips it into his pocket as he climbs off the bar stool. Then he puts a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, nodding at the bartender. He reaches for my hand with one hand and grabs the strap of my bag with the other.

  I let him lift me off the bar stool, but my eyes are still on the box, now tucked safely and neatly away.

  “Do you not want –”

  “Oh,” Adam says in a voice that makes my insides turn liquid. “I want.”

  He presses a kiss against my hand in his and smiles at me over it. His eyes are darkened, pupils almost blacking out the amber brown I normally see.

  “This just isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Oh.” I’m disappointed. But only until Adam pulls me flush against his chest as we reach the elevator bank. The tension between us explodes into a ball of sexual heat.

  “Soon, Amy. It will be soon. But I’ve been waiting for months for you to look at me like this. Seeing me without any doubt or fear or nerves, and right now all I want to do is take you back up to the room and make love to you for as long as I can.”

  He raises an eyebrow like he’s asking for permission.

  “Okay,” I squeak out in a small voice right as the elevator doors open.

  We fall onto the bed as soon as Adam drops my duffle bag and lets the door slam shut behind him. Our bodies are tangled together, legs and arms and hands moving in
a rush to shed our clothing as soon as possible.

  “God I love you,” Adam says huskily as he rips my jeans off my legs and throws them. They land draped over the television and I snort.

  “Nice.”

  “It will be. I promise.”

  His scruff tickles my chest, and when I laugh, trying to push him away, he takes my hands and pushes them into the mattress next to my head.

  His chin brushes across my nipple. The scratchy hair makes me writhe under him.

  “Do you like that?” he asks, and brushes his cheek across my other nipple until both my nipples are hardened little buds. I can’t decide if I hate the scratchy, ticklish feeling, or if it’s the most erotic thing ever.

  Adam is smiling at me, knowing exactly how insane he’s making me.

  “I want you,” I tell him as his lips brush against mine.

  My hips move against him, feeling his hardness, and I moan, frustrated, when he pulls away from me.

  “You do?” He smiles wickedly and presses his erection against me, sliding it up and down, knowing exactly where to press against me.

  “Yes.”

  My back arches and I fight to get my hands free from him, but Adam holds me tighter, moving against me. So close to where I want him, but not nearly close enough.

  “Please?” I open my eyes to stare directly at him. “Please, Adam. I love you.”

  His breath catches and his lips press against mine. “I love it when you beg.”

  I smirk. “I know.”

  He smiles and one of his hands loosens his hold on mine and he guides himself into me.

  Stretching me. Filling me. Loving me.

  He feels absolutely perfect. Made for me.

  I sigh into his mouth and press against him. We begin to move slowly, whispering words of affection. I take them all from Adam like precious little candies and I tuck them into my heart, hoping to never forget how he feels ever again.

  Hoping I never forget how I feel ever again.

  We peak together and Adam’s body crushes into mine as we breathe heavily against one another. His back is covered in a light sheen of sweat as I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him to me.