by John Herrick
“Till whenever: Ryan’s visiting his dad for the weekend and Drew’s spending the night there. When can I look?”
“Almost there.”
When they reached the driveway, Jesse uncovered her eyes to reveal a dark-blue convertible with its top down. It sparkled after a fresh wash and wax. The orange sun painted a sporty, reflective stain across the door on the driver’s side.
She started to form a word, but abandoned it, which left her mouth in a small O. Now motionless, a wide-eyed Caitlyn stared at the vehicle. “Where did you get this?”
“I traded cars with Blake until tomorrow.”
Her face drenched with delight, she cuddled back against Jesse. “You know I love convertibles!”
Jesse took Caitlyn by the hand, led her around to the passenger side to open the door for her. When he had her buckled in and situated, he bowed and closed the door, which prompted another look from her. Jesse got in the car and pulled out of the subdivision.
Southbound on Interstate 71, they sat in silence for a while. For Jesse, relaxation proved beneficial as stress fizzled, seeped through his nerves and out of his body. He and Caitlyn raced in the direction of Columbus, though they wouldn’t travel quite that far.
Caitlyn sank into her seat and yielded to the wind that cascaded around her. “Wow, I haven’t ridden in a convertible since—probably since you rented one for prom. Remember?”
“And the next day we drove it all the way to Niagara Falls.”
“We’re not going that far tonight, right?” she teased.
“If we were, then I’d say we’re already lost since we’re driving south.”
Both wore sunglasses. Jesse, one hand on the wheel while he rested the other on the door, leaned his head back. Soon they reached a stretch of highway where population was sparse and cars were even more so. He glanced over at Caitlyn, who had melted into her seat, eyes closed and hair whipping in the wind. She wore stylish jeans and a salmon-colored top. Unnoticed by her, her navel peeked through the space between the two articles of clothing. A pleasant reminder, her navel—Jesse had loved to lay kisses there.
Beyond the threat of speed traps and radar, Jesse turned on the stereo, which he had stocked with CDs of artists he knew Caitlyn enjoyed. Within a few seconds, Toad the Wet Sprocket’s “Come Down” blasted through the speakers. And in the sonic landscape, Jesse and Caitlyn found themselves liberated.
After the first thirty minutes, they exited the freeway and headed down a local rural highway, where the speed limit dropped to forty miles per hour but neither stop sign nor traffic light impeded them. Dominated by farmland and undeveloped country, the area boasted a scant number of homes, plus a handful of billboards which sat low to the ground and peeled by the hour.
When she opened her eyes, Caitlyn removed her sunglasses, took a glimpse, and recognized the scene immediately. To compete with the music, she shouted, “Wait a minute! Are you taking me to—”
Jesse grinned.
She reciprocated his smile, then shook her head and sank back in her seat, a vision of contentment. She turned the stereo volume down. “I can’t believe you still remember Caitlyn’s View.” Caitlyn’s View was the nickname Jesse had given to an isolated clearing upon which they had stumbled as teenagers.
With feigned nonchalance, he replied, “The only place in northern Ohio fit for a princess—Princess Caitlyn, that is.”
“That’s right! I forgot all about that part.” Her laughter resurfaced. “How sweet; he remembers my favorite place within a hundred-mile radius.” She leaned over to give Jesse a playful hug as he drove. “Thank you.”
With the music low, neither Jesse nor Caitlyn spoke for a bit. She watched in abandonment as tall grass and maturing corn stalks frolicked in the breeze. They passed barns painted brick red and aged farm houses with whitewashed edifices. After a quick shuffle, the CD player transitioned to Michelle Branch’s “All You Wanted.”
Her curiosity piqued, Caitlyn turned to Jesse, her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. “Why are you taking me out here, anyway? I mean, to remember all this, you must have given it a lot of thought.”
“I figured you could use some time to let loose and unwind,” he said. “I thought back to when we used to trek out here on Sunday afternoons. You always seemed so free when we got away from home for a few hours.”
With yearning in her eyes, Caitlyn unearthed the memory. “Yeah,” she said. “I did feel free. The way we’d drive for miles, wind blowing through my hair, not a soul around: For a while, I never had to fit in, never had to care.”
He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance her way. “Not as easy to let loose as you get older, huh?”
Caitlyn chortled. “What, is that a dare?” she teased.
Jesse played along. “You were fearless back then.” Years ago, during these drives, he’d spurred her on; she had, in turn, emerged from her restrained nature.
“Oh, and I’ve lost my edge on this drive?”
“We’re getting older. A couple of old farts in a convertible.”
Her mouth agape, she replied, “Whatever, Barlow.” She unbuckled her seat belt. Jesse hadn’t counted on that. “Eat my dust, buddy.”
And with that, she ripped the stereo volume to full blast. Amid the blare of music, she eased her way to her feet and stood on her seat, practically sat on its headrest. She steadied herself, then looked toward the sky.
Caitlyn spread her arms sideways, stretched her fingers as far as she could, and let the wind rush against her body like a cleansing rain. She looked as though emancipation rose up within her and charged her veins, as if she found herself caught between laughter and tears. And it was then that Caitlyn let out a carefree yell, satisfying and sustained—a purifying shout which, for her, Jesse knew, symbolized all her heartache, all her unspoken hurt and pressure. For a brief moment, Caitlyn was a teenager again—those final teenage years she had lost to oblivion. Her smile spread and her face radiated as time slowed to a crawl just for her.
Even from his low vantage point, Jesse noticed a pair of tears that trickled from her eyes and dried in the wind.
And then Jesse knew: After all these years, once again, if only for a fleeting moment … Caitlyn was free.
* * *
Their journey ended along a dirt road—whether an intentional or unintentional road, they had yet to decipher. When they arrived at the clearing around 7:20 that evening, Jesse parked the car and turned off the engine. Awestruck at first, Caitlyn didn’t move, until reality settled in that, yes, she had finally returned here. Slowly, childlike, as if she now experienced the ambience for the first time, she eased out of the car and made her way five yards ahead. Then she stopped. Jesse came alongside her and, together, they soaked in the sight.
Not a house in sight, nor had they ever spotted another human being during their visits. They couldn’t determine if the property was public or private. Jesse had nicknamed it Caitlyn’s View because it seemed like a place of their own, a shared secret.
Stretched before them, nature’s expanse sat untouched by human hands. They stood at the edge of a cliff three stories high. Below them, a tranquil stream rippled, its chirp a treble whistle as it passed over smooth, oblong stones. Acres of yellow-green grass rolled before them as far as the eye could see. And in the air, Jesse picked up the summer scent of moss and wildflowers.
Neither Jesse nor Caitlyn had returned here after Jesse left. Yet the scene remained the same.
They breathed pure air tinged with minerals of the soil beneath their feet.
Jesse jogged away and returned with a bouquet of wildflowers, freshly picked from the shallow woods nearby. When he handed them to Caitlyn, she clasped them in her hands, soaked in their hues of dusty purple, velvet red, and sunflower gold.
They gazed ahead and spotted the lone tree, bent at a slight angle in the eastern corner of their view. It appeared to have doubled in size since they last saw it. They peeked downstream and found the large boulder they
remembered, its stratums colored with tones of pottery.
And Jesse watched as Caitlyn, rapt, immersed herself in the view—Caitlyn’s View.
CHAPTER 47
Around nine thirty that night, as daylight faded and stars speckled the sky, Jesse and Caitlyn sat in the top-down convertible and listened to crickets chirp from the woods. They stared at the sky, far from the industrial haze that obstructed their view of the stars back home.
As nature purred, Jesse placed his hand on Caitlyn’s, which rested upon her knee. They whispered in the night.
“I’m glad we got back in touch again,” he said.
Caitlyn nodded. “It could have happened sooner.”
“It never seemed an option, I suppose.” He looked into the distant shadows, the rolling hills now blackened. “If I hadn’t left,” he paused to find the words, “would we still be together today?”
At first Caitlyn pondered the question. She peered down at his hand upon hers, ran her thumb along his. “I don’t know. Maybe …” Between them the question lingered.
The minutes ticked along. By now, they sat in complete darkness, save the moonlight, their faces lit by its incandescent fire.
Caitlyn seemed hesitant. “That girl you were with, the one in L.A.,” she whispered. “What was her name? Did she keep you drawn there?”
“Jada?” He considered the question, then shrugged. He tapped the steering wheel. “She and I ran into problems last year. In my soul, I realized it could never grow beyond the status quo.”
Jesse struggled to speak. His sincerity, his vulnerability, the earnestness in his tone seemed to comfort Caitlyn. In the recesses of his voice, an undeniable honesty existed, and as the layers peeled away, the old Jesse emerged, the one that had first drawn Caitlyn to him.
“I wouldn’t let myself break free from my relationship with Jada. I don’t know why: Fear of failure? Fear I’d end up alone? Maybe it truly was habit—perhaps staying with Jada had become an addiction … or maybe deep down, a part of me just gave up.”
“Gave up?”
“Gave up. Lost heart. Settled … Somewhere along the line, I knew I would never have with Jada what I once had with you.” Jesse felt the warmth of Caitlyn’s hand in his. He grazed his fingers along hers. “The limited time you and I had together to develop our relationship—even that was deeper than I ever thought I’d find … or deserve.”
They stared out at the beautiful nothing before them. Around them, insects hummed in unison, stopped for a while, then continued, their voices an aural glow. Jesse ran his hand along Caitlyn’s arm in a soft caress.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you remember that night in Niagara Falls?”
“I do,” he whispered. He rested his head against hers. “That was the night we made love.”
“It was my first time.”
“Mine too.” With a trace of embarrassment, Jesse said, “I’m sorry your first time had to be in a convertible.”
“I wasn’t offended,” she replied. “We were eighteen. We didn’t plan to spend the night in Canada, had only sixty dollars between us—not enough for a hotel if we wanted gas for the trip home.”
It was a night like this one: perfect stars glittered across a translucent sky; the air cool and breathable; an absence of foot traffic where their car sat. Neither Jesse nor Caitlyn had visited Niagara Falls before, and the area’s small-town nuances fascinated them. Although they had expected a metropolitan area, instead they discovered a modest number of pedestrians who strolled past a smatter of hotels and buildings a few stories high. Within blocks, they found residential neighborhoods and kids who played catch without a second thought that a few blocks away sat a natural wonder, one for which tourists traveled from around the globe to see.
While there, Jesse and Caitlyn had found a small park in the vicinity. Though it had closed for the evening, somehow they had found their way in and forgotten to leave.
“We were lucky no one caught us,” Caitlyn said.
“No one would have. They didn’t expect us to be there.”
“We whispered the whole time. Just like tonight.”
On that evening in Canada, they had snuggled together in the back seat of the top-down convertible, wrapped together underneath a blanket, the one they had used for a picnic lunch while en route. By that time in the evening, the park had fallen silent, its shadows weightless and still.
They had felt so secure in each other’s arms, as though the steeliest enemy couldn’t compete with their embrace. They had lost themselves in the nuances: the heat of his palm as he stroked her thigh, and the invigoration that he sensed ripple up her spine when he kissed her. His moist, balmy breath as it swathed her shoulders, and the pleasant contrast of perspiration that cooled in the late-April air as they gasped for breath. Bound inside the blanket, they made love against a backdrop of Niagara’s roar, which emanated from an unseen horizon.
Afterward, in a mutual loss of innocence, Jesse and Caitlyn had laid there for hours, unclothed inside the blanket. For them, the close proximity had reflected the intimacy of that spring evening. Both Jesse and Caitlyn left that experience changed: On that night, a bond had sealed between them. Though unplanned, their coming together had proven one of destiny.
They never made love again after that night.
That was the night Caitlyn conceived Drew.
And tonight, enveloped in the Ohio summer air, Jesse and Caitlyn found themselves in close proximity once again, together yet apart.
They gazed into the depths of each other’s eyes and spoke without words and without pretense.
“That was the night I fell in love with you,” he whispered. “But it happened before we were together in the park. It happened after dinner, as we walked past shops and listened to conversations—half of them in English, half in French. I could sense something in that moment—I knew I loved you. I wanted us to have a language of our own, one in which only the two of us were fluent.”
“We had one. It was unspoken, but it was there, like a heartbeat.” Caitlyn studied her fingertips, rubbed them together, and asked, “Jess, what’s happening between us?”
Jesse cuddled against her head and whispered, “What do you want to happen between us?”
Caitlyn allowed the question to remain unanswered. Instead, she leaned into him further and he cradled her in his arms. They felt each other’s heartbeats, inhaled each other’s breaths.
After a while, Jesse turned the key forward in the ignition, on battery power but short of starting the engine. He reached for the stereo and turned it on at low volume. The last CD they had listened to began to spin: another Michelle Branch CD—Caitlyn’s favorite. Jesse skipped to “It’s You,” and soon the gentle pluck of an acoustic guitar filled the atmosphere.
With a tender smile, he nodded to the car door. “Come on,” he invited.
“What?” she said, as if lulled from her personal reverie.
“Trust me.”
They left the car from their respective sides and met in front. With her hand in his, Jesse led her a few feet from the car, where the song could still be heard. He placed his hands on the small of her back. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other against his chest. To think how their lives had changed since they had last done this.
Together they danced.
He rested his chin on the side of her head. He lay his every exhale on her hair.
History seemed to cycle around again. They found security in each other’s touch.
And in this moment, Jesse found himself falling in love with her all over again.
CHAPTER 48
After work several weeks later, in early September, Jesse pulled into Eden’s driveway. The Ohio skies pelted the ground with a cold drizzle, its temperature too cool to stir a scent from the wet asphalt. In this hint of autumn, a blustery wind whipped around corners and licked the rain from Jesse’s cheeks. In Eden’s front yard, her large apple tree yielded to the wind and dropped unlucky yellow leav
es to piles on the ground. Jesse made a mental note to rake them that weekend.
From his pocket, his cell phone rang as he got out of the car. He raced to the shelter of the front porch and answered. As he peered out at the ashen environment, Jesse recoiled.
But not because of his surroundings.
“Are you still in Ohio?”
At the sound of Jada’s voice, a stunned Jesse didn’t know whether to laugh or hang up without another word. He opted for a midpoint, to let her say whatever she could possibly have to say to him. Her connection sounded shabby and her voice swooshed in its volume, so Jesse pictured her stuck idle in traffic. Was she bored?
“It’s been months,” he said. “Why are you calling me?”
“A letter arrived for you at the apartment.”
“For me? When?”
“I don’t know, maybe June.”
“Three months ago? And you figured today is the appropriate time to tell me?”
“The letter’s from the hospital. It doesn’t sound positive.”
“How can you tell?”
“Well, you’re not here, so I went ahead and opened it.”
“You realize that’s against the law, don’t you?”
“Whatever. It says they contacted you by phone but you didn’t return their calls. They have concerns about some medical tests they did while you were in the hospital after your brain fart that night.”
“You have a way with words.”
“By the way, Dale pulled some strings and got your medical bills waived. He’s aligned with that hospital and convinced them to classify you as indigent.”
“Tell him thanks.” As much as he hated to think of the guy, Jesse had forgotten about bills and was grateful for the gesture. Dr. Dale probably felt guilty for destroying Jada’s and his relationship.
“When he heard you’d gone home to Ohio, he thought it was the right decision on your part. He didn’t want you distracted.”