Don't Let Me Go

by Glenna Maynard

  I spent so many days of my childhood playing back here. This garden was my sanctuary. Whenever life got too tough, I could come back here and get lost in all of Gram’s beautiful flowers. That is why I think the paper daisies are from Harlan. He spent many nights feeling me up out here. A lot of the nights I snuck out to be with him, we ended up back here.

  He knows—he knew how special this garden is to me. There is a rose in just about any color you could ask for. I love sitting on the stone bench by the trellis covered in morning glories. I hear Gram and her old biddies coming out onto the back patio for sweet tea. I give them a gentle wave and let Gram know I will be back at five for dinner.

  I make my way through the back gate to be met by Nolan. Shit! I should have known he would know where to find me. Gram wouldn’t be happy to see him here. She has never been a fan of the Rivers’ boys—mostly because my daddy used to run the roads with their daddy while they were in their teens, or so my Gram used to tell me. That is how my dad ended up in the military. Our fathers got into some trouble and my daddy joined the service to get out of jail.

  She also knows a lot of the bad I went through with Harlan. He wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, but I know he cared about me. Maybe not as much as I love him, but still, he was always there. “Nolan, what brings you to town?” I avoid making eye contact with him.

  “Well, tomorrow marks one year for Harlan, as you know. I am here for the memorial my mom is insisting on having. I wanted to invite you. You know, we know that what happened was an accident, we don’t blame you, Bella. It could have happened to anyone. It was a freak accident.” He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “I can’t come, Nolan, but thanks. I have my own plans already for tomorrow.”

  “Sure, but if you change your mind, mom would really like to talk to you. She thinks you and her both could use the closure.”

  “I can’t.” I shuffle my feet and light up another smoke. I can’t look him in the eyes—he looks too much like my Harlan, but with lighter hair. His eyes are the same shade of green. Like staring into a pair of emeralds.

  “Take care of yourself, Bella Rose—my brother sure did love you.”

  “Funny, you never thought so any other time. Or all the times you brought sluts home to fuck him. I don’t need you to tell me he loved me.” I know better than to taunt him, but I can’t help it. I have so many hard feelings harbored towards him to keep my mouth shut.

  “Whoa, take a step back from crazy town. I just meant I know he cared a lot about you. You know what, fuck it. I don’t want you there, you always were a stuck-up bitch.” He bumps hard into my shoulder as I try to get around him, asshat.

  I can’t get away from him fast enough. He tries to stop me to apologize, but I need to go home. I have had enough socialization for today. I really hoped to have my final dinner with Gram, but she will be too tired after quilting all day anyways. I go back around to the front of the house and inside Gram’s to the foyer to leave her a note on her calling table, to let her know I am not feeling up to dinner.

  *—*

  Later that night, I can’t sleep. I keep hearing Harlan’s skull cracking against the rocks. I wake clenching my tank top in the center of my chest. I can’t control the sobs as they escape my throat. I crawl out from under my burgundy down comforter and get a glass of tap water from the kitchen sink. I keep trying, but I can’t shake the sound. “Harlan,” I whisper his name. “It won’t be long now. I will be with you tomorrow.”

  Curling back up into the covers I will the noises to stop. Eventually, I fall asleep to the memory of Harlan singing my favorite version of ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine,’ by ‘Taken by Trees.’ I can still see his chestnut hair swirling around his face as the wind blows. His voice echoes through my walls as the soothing memory of his voice lulls me to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  The weather is perfect for this day. It is rainy and wonderfully dreary. There is a thick fog rising with the morning sun. I brush my teeth with extra care. Silly, I know, but I have always been told I have a breathtaking smile. My caramel hair is styled in a messy fishtail braid, lying slightly across my left shoulder.

  Wearing my favorite red plaid flannel, over a white tank top, I lean down and tie my Chuck Taylors one last time. I look over my apartment, making sure to leave it nice and tidy, with no evidence of anything being out of place. The latest celebrity gossip magazines lay strewn across the coffee table. I have to laugh when I see ‘Lady Gaga’s latest costume made of meat.

  Locking my door, I tuck my key into the pocket of my cut offs. The bus is late. I have discovered that it is always five minutes behind schedule. I am eager to stick to my plan.

  There is a quaint diner in the middle of town, Nelly’s Kitchen, the local townie hangout.

  It’s only Seven a.m. and the place is crowded. There is a group of elderly men seated in the first booth ranting about the latest town hall meeting, while drinking their coffee and reading their newspapers.

  Taking a seat at the counter, the stool still swivels. I always loved twisting on it as a young girl. I haven’t been here since before the accident. I used to come here all the time after school; they have always had the best milkshakes.

  I inhale the scent of coffee and grease while I wait for the waitress to notice me. Looking around the dining room, I notice the walls are still lined in pictures of the locals, fishing, having parades, along with various sports team photos. It has a real ‘Leave It to Beaver’ atmosphere.

  I notice something that hasn’t always been here. A picture of Harlan. Well more like a shrine. It is his senior portrait. There are signatures signed on a board beside of it. Unable to stay away, I walk over to the picture. I run my fingers across his handsome face. A lonely tears slides down my cheek.

  A tingling sensation courses through my body, forcing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. That feeling of someone staring at me makes itself known. I turn around to see everyone in the diner staring at me. No one is even chewing their food or drinking their coffee. They are probably waiting for me to freak out. I wipe the tear from my cheek and take the marker attached to the side of the board.

  I write:

  My love, we will be together again.

  Calmly, I walk back to the counter and wait to place my order. Everyone eventually returns to their own business. I have gotten used to the stares. Every time I go to the grocery store people whisper, point, and stare. I keep telling myself just a little longer, I can get through it to be with him again.

  Harlan is waiting for me.

  I just know it.

  Swiveling around on the stool and glancing to the left I notice that yes, I am being studied again. I am what you would consider attractive. My hair is a caramel shade of brown and hangs just below my shoulders, my face is round, but it isn’t chubby. My eyes are a dull hazel green. I’m not too tall or too short. I have an average build for an eighteen-year-old girl I suppose. My breasts aren’t huge, but they aren’t mosquito bites either. I have a good handful at the most; Harlan always said they were perfect.

  This guy on the other hand I can’t tell much about him, he is hiding under the curtain of his powder blue hoodie. Snorting to myself, I turn back towards the waitress and place my order.

  What does one order for their final supper, or in my case final breakfast? I decide to order a grand feast, steak and eggs it is. I sip my soda while waiting for my order and some jackass rudely elbows my ribs causing me in turn to spit my drink all over the counter.

  “Excuse me. I am terribly sorry about that. Tell ya what, breakfast is on me,” he apologizes.

  “That really won’t be necessary,” I mutter as I take a handful of napkins from the dispenser.

  We both go to wipe the counter at the same time, he brushes his hand over mine in a not so subtle attempt to flirt. I remove my hand from his and he leans in close.

  “You must be new in town I haven’t seen you around? Where are my manners? Name is Hurley Owens, you are
?” He attempts to woo me with his southern boy charm.

  He sticks his hand out for me to shake. I take another sip of my drink and take him in. He is good looking enough, but what is the point, I will never see him again, or anyone for that matter. Nevertheless, I am polite, well polite for me.

  “Bella. And I am a local.” I extend my hand in return. “Your manners are fine. I think it’s your flirting that is a bit rusty.” This guy is something else.

  “Ouch, that stung, just a little.” He clutches his chest. “Don’t worry, sugar, I will always have a spot open on my calendar for a gal fine as you, even with your shitty attitude.”

  “I bet your calendar is always open. And with lines like those it’s no wonder,” I insult him.

  There, that shut him up. You can simply tell by the way that he carries himself, he is used to girls throwing themselves at him. Such a waste too, he has a handsome face, with teen dream wavy blond hair, blue eyes, tall, muscular build. Probably a football player and too much like my Harlan—cocky and fit as fuck.

  My food arrives, and I escape his glare. I notice he takes a seat across from my blue hoodie mystery looker.

  I cringe as I hear Brianna Jenkins cackle. I have nothing for her—she was supposed to be my friend. But like most of the other girls in this town, she had gone behind my back with Harlan. I spy her from the corner of my eye, as she joins Hurley and blue hoodie guy. I put my hand up covering the side of my face that they can see and pray she doesn’t notice my presence.

  I am left alone to enjoy my meal in peace. Well, about as much peace as one can acquire in a crowded diner while being examined by the whole damn town. I take my time savoring each bite. They really have great food. I motion to the waitress, so I can pay my tab.

  “Already taken care of, honey, seems like my Hurley is sweet on you.”

  In this moment, I notice she shares Hurley’s blue eyes and wavy blond locks.

  “Really, I would prefer to pay,” I argue.

  “No, just leave me a tip and we can call it even, honey. You will be seeing my nephew around. He just moved here a few months back. He is my sister’s boy and he just happens to be single.” She winks. “It’s nice to see you, Bella, you haven’t been in here for a while...”

  I place a five-dollar bill on the counter and leave to catch the bus that shuttles to Cold Creek Falls. I normally ride my bike to the falls, but today I opted for the bus because of the rain.

  The bus driver takes one look at me.

  “Not a very nice day for visiting the falls. Not very good shoes for the trails either.”

  I wave my camera at him, “photography project.” I smile, like that should explain it all.

  You see, my plan is to make my death appear as an accident. I want to make it look as if I was trying to get the perfect shot of the falls from the bridge that overlooks the lake, when tragedy strikes, and I lose my balance, taking the plunge over the edge, and into the water. The bridge is old and worn, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that I had fell through the railing so easily. The town council has been trying to raise money to repair it for years now.

  The bus is getting ready to pull out when blue hoodie guy suddenly jumps on. I pretend not to notice him. I occupy myself with my camera’s memory stick as he walks past me, pausing briefly like he is expecting me to notice him or speak or something—weirdo.

  Great, I hope he isn’t following me. Wouldn’t that be just my luck? I roll my eyes with indifference when he continues to walk past me. He takes a seat at the back of the bus as we descend on our ride. The bus driver must not have taken the hint that I’m not big on making small talk.

  “Photography, eh? My Julie is getting married soon. You got a card or a number? You know, just in case. Say, you look familiar, aren’t you Clara’s granddaughter?”

  “It’s only a hobby and yeah that’s me.”

  “Well if you change your mind, this is my route six days a week,” he says with pride.

  The bus was originally for senior’s trips to the falls for the elderly, but it became popular with the college kids, so now there are two buses that shuttle around town. They charge bus fare for each trip there and back. Gram said it was a great way to earn extra money for the town’s revitalization projects.

  Finally, we make it to the marina. There are only the regular fisherman’s trucks and trailers in the lot. They fish far away from the falls. Thankfully, hoodie guy goes in the opposite direction from me and towards the docks.

  The rain really starts coming down. I should have brought an umbrella.

  What am I thinking?

  In a few minutes, none of this will matter. My sneakers slide through the mud on the hike to the falls. Eww, there is mud squishing between my toes. After a ten-minute hike, I make it to the falls.

  I take a few minutes to take in the scenery that surrounds me, it is the last vision I will have. The pine trees are a lustrous green. The drops of rain are cascading down the leaves of the giant maples and the pines. My one ending memory of leaves—kisses blowing in the wind.

  I look across the lake to the spot that Harlan lost his life. I can hear him whispering in my ear, “My beautiful, Bella, I am waiting. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms once more.”

  Taking a deep breath, I try to boost myself onto the bridge railing. My sneaker slips from the slick of the rain, causing me to scrape my knee against the concrete wall, I almost fell for real. Gazing at the rushing water below, my nerves kick in. This is the moment you have been waiting for, Bella—just do it, don’t be a chicken shit! I climb up the concrete wall and hold onto the railing. Wow. The rail is narrower than I had anticipated.

  I straighten my legs as they begin to tremble slightly. Steadying my legs, I hold my palms out and close my eyes. “Breathe in and out. Then repeat,” I tell myself. I am ready now. I picture my family—my Gram, one final time, and remember the way the trees were swaying around me a few moments ago.

  It’s then I hear a whisper, “Just breathe—I’m with you…”

  “Harlan.” I breathe out his name. A smile spreads across my face.

  He has come for me.

  We are about to be reunited for real.

  I knew he wouldn’t let me do this alone.

  “If you jump, you’re taking me with you.”

  “What?” I must not be hearing him right. His voice sounds different—husky all man-like, but all that matters is that he is here. “Of course we are doing it together, babe. I’m so glad you are here with me,” I admit.

  That is when he takes my hand in his. His skin is warm, inviting and soft to the touch. I open my eyes and blue hoodie guy is on the rail standing beside of me, clutching my hand to his chest for dear life.

  “What are you doing, you aren’t Harlan? Were you following me?”

  I go to tug my hand away.

  “Don’t let go,” he pleads. There is something in his voice that keeps me holding on. “To answer your questions. No and yes. I have seen you around every morning for the past week. Can we go somewhere and talk? I’m scared of heights,” he confesses.

  “You’re scared of heights and yet you come here every morning? And not only do you climb up here beside me, but you tell me that if I jump you are going to jump with me? Are you supposed to be my guardian angel or something? I must be really seeing shit now!” I let out an exasperated breath.

  Who is this frustrating stranger?

  “No, I’m no angel. Your eyes are working correctly. I am going to let go of your hand now, but I need you to promise me that you will climb down with me and give me a few more minutes of your time and hear me out,” he demands.

  Who does he think he is?

  I take a breath as he lets go of my hand.

  This is it.

  Only I can’t do this.

  Not with him standing here thinking he is saving my life.

  The rushing of the falls sounds below.

  My foot slips and I cry out, right as his hands pull me back. “Don’t let
me go,” I beg.

  “I won’t,” he says, softly.

  We both climb down the wall and the weight of what I almost done hits me square in the gut. Blue hoodie guy catches me as I collapse.

  “Hey, are you okay?” He brushes the sleeve of his hoodie across my cheek wiping the rain away as fast as it is falling.

  “I don’t think it matters,” I briskly tell him as I try to stand.

  “Of course it matters. That was some scary shit you were about to pull!” He clasps his hands over mine and pulls me up to where I am standing toe to toe with him.

  “No, I meant the rain, we’re both soaked.” I pull away from him. Has he ever heard of personal space? I mean, who climbs onto a bridge with a stranger and offers to jump with them or wipes the rain from their face with their own clothes.

  Who is that thoughtful?

  “Were you really going to do it? Jump that is?” He is watching my every move with caution. He acts as if he is afraid I am going to turn around at any minute and try to jump for again. It’s not like I would do it with him watching. I wouldn’t put that on anyone, no matter how badly I want it…to jump…to put an end to it all.

  “What?” I shoot him a bewildered look. “I was going to take some shots of the falls. I was just trying to get a good angle.” I play dumb waving my camera that is hanging around my neck at him. Thank goodness, it is waterproof. I try to brush his concerns aside like he is the crazy one.

  “Good thing I was here to stop you.” He is staring at me intently through the sheets of rain; it’s the only thing separating us.

  “Who are you?”

  “Cutter Dawson. You’re Bella? I overheard you in the diner talking to that guy, you putting him in his place was quite entertaining. I am from Mason, you heard of it?”

  “Yeah, I have been there before, what are you doing here, in the falls?”

  “I am going to school here, I just moved into the apartments near the town center.”