by Monica Cole
Canyon: Wounds heal. It might take time but eventually they’ll close.
Me: They might close but it will still leave a scar. And that’s something you can never get rid of.
Canyon: But you can control the way you look at it. Either it can be a constant reminder of the pain and keep you from moving on. Or it can be a reminder that you survived a hardship but came out stronger for it in the end.
I re-read his text, over and over, trying to figure out how he always has something so insightful to say. Something that always makes me think. Makes me question. Makes me realize that I’m not always right. I hate how he does that. But then there are times like this where I soak up his words and let them settle like a balm over my heart. Reading his text, I know he’s right, but part of my problem has always been admitting it. Before I can decide if I want to reply, another text flashes across the screen.
Canyon: You know I’m right Elle. Whether you admit it or not. And you don’t have to. Just consider what I said and don’t be so hardheaded. See you at the party.
Saturday is Parker’s birthday party. Mom and I spend the afternoon decorating, and I offer to drive into town to pick up the cake because I know she’s exhausted. She worked all night, came home this morning and was only asleep for a few hours before getting up. Honestly I don’t know how she does it. Not just being a nurse, but everything on top of it. We haven’t always been close, but I still admire her. She’s strong and it makes me wish I were too.
While mom cooks burgers and hot dogs, I chop vegetables, my earphones stuck in to make being in the kitchen with her a little more bearable. She’s been unexplainably moody today. When I made a comment about Parker getting old, she got upset and left the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Parker told me not to worry about it, that she’s just tired from working doubles lately. She seems more menopausal to me, but what do I know? Either way I’m scared to talk to her.
I’m about to start cutting an onion when Canyon and Parker enter the kitchen. They’re both laughing, and I notice Canyon holding a box with blue wrapping paper. He sets it on the table next to my tiny gift and gives me a half smile when he catches my eye. I turn back to my onion, doing a shitty job of butchering it up. I don’t know why mom thought I’d be any help in the kitchen. I can barely manage to cook boxed mac and cheese.
Something moves in my peripherals, and I jump when Canyon slides into the chair beside me.
“Are you trying to make me cut off a finger?” I ask irritably. I yank the earphones out and toss them on the table.
He grabs a pickle off the tray and plops it in his mouth. “The only way you’re going to lose a finger is cutting an onion like that.”
I glare at his low shot concerning my cooking skills and push the cutting board across the table. “Fine. Then have at it Iron Chef.”
He laughs and pushes the cutting board back. “Hold on. Pick the knife back up.”
I sigh and do what he asks. He scoots to the edge of his chair and curls his fingers around my right hand. He starts moving his hand. Up and down. Cutting the onion into perfect circles.
“See? Not so hard.” His breath tickles my ear, and I shiver even though I’m hot as can be. I hate it. I really do. Every time he’s around I forget that I’m supposed to be tolerating him for the sake of Parker and mom or whatever else I agreed to tolerate him for. He said it would make things easier but still having feelings for him doesn’t make this easy. It’s making it hurt a hell of a lot worse.
“Elle.”
Canyon’s voice rips through my mental ramblings and I jerk. The knife slices right through my middle finger and clatters to the table.
His chair scrapes against the floor, and Canyon rushes to the sink. He grabs a handful of paper towels then comes back to wrap them around my finger.
“Can you hold that for a second? I’m going to ask your mom for a first aid kit.”
Before I can respond he leaves the room. A minute later mom comes in carrying the first aid kit. She’s in complete nurse mode as she kneels down and examines my finger.
“You cut it pretty deep.” She rips open a package and starts cleaning it with an alcohol pad.
“I told you I’m bad in the kitchen.”
She dabs on some ointment while Canyon opens a band aide. “Bad is an understatement honey.”
Canyon chuckles at her comment, and I narrow my eyes. She places some gauze on my finger then secures it with a band aide.
“There you go.” She stands up and goes to wash her hands. “You two go spend some time with Parker. I’ll clean this up.”
Canyon leads me out of the kitchen, his hand resting on the small of my back. The last thing I need is him touching me, so I move out of reach, flopping down on a recliner while he takes a seat on the couch.
“I hope you didn’t get blood on my food.” Parker eyes my finger with a disgusted look on his face.
I grin slyly and wiggle my hand in the air. “Probably got some skin in there too.”
He rolls his eyes and takes a drink. “You’re sick.”
I laugh at the same time Whitney steps through the front door, her face hidden by a mountain of tissue paper.
“Happy Birthday!” she sings loudly. Canyon hops over the couch, offering to take the bags for her.
“Holy crap. Are those all from you?” I tilt my head, staring at the gifts Canyon is disappearing into the kitchen with.
Whitney sits on the arm of the couch, her blonde ponytail bobbing around. “One of them is. The other two are from my parents and Jenna.” She looks at Parker. “They said to tell you Happy Birthday.”
A minute later, Canyon comes back and announces it’s time to eat. Whitney is equally grossed out by my knife incident, but after I tell her it only ruined the onions, she goes back to piling food on her plate. We all squeeze in at the small, four person table, and I’m thankful when Whitney claims a seat by Canyon. It’s nice having them here because they keep the conversation going. Mom and Parker chime in every now in then but I mostly listen. I’m trying to remember the last enjoyable moment we’ve had around this table, talking and laughing. It seems like a lifetime ago.
“Elaine, are you alright? You’ve barely touched your food.” Mom takes a bite and eyes me from across the table. I glance down at the two fries I’ve nibbled on and my half eaten burger. It doesn’t taste the same without onions.
“I’m fine.” I pick up my burger and take a bite to keep from having to say more. When we finish eating, mom gets the cake and ice cream. She places two candles on top; one in the shape of a two, and the other in the shape of a three and then we sing "Happy Birthday."
Parker blows out the candles and mom hugs his neck, the light reflecting the tears in her eyes. When we finish dessert, it’s time to open gifts. Whitney bought him an iTunes gift card and a set of headphones. Her parents gave him a set of Ralph Lauren pajamas, and Jenna made him a pair of hand painted Toms with the Green Bay Packers logo. I tell Canyon to let Parker open his gift first. Inside the box is a black photo album and when he opens it, there’s a long message written on the front. Parker takes the time to read it before turning the page.
“These are all the photos you’ve taken since you started working at the studio,” Canyon finally explains. “If you flip to the back, I put a few old ones in there. Just some old candid ones of you and Elle. You too, Helen.” He smiles at mom who’s standing over Parker’s shoulder, crying softly. Parker's face doesn’t show the same emotion but it’s in his eyes. The way he’s looking at the photos. It’s affecting him the same way it is mom. When the book is passed my way I go through it hesitantly, afraid of ending up as emotional as everyone else. I never knew Parker was talented with a camera but his photos are stunning. When I reach the candid shots, I understand why mom started crying. They’re beautiful but in a different way. Filled with vivid memories that if I weren’t holding in my hands, I’d almost forget they’d happened. Up until now, I didn’t know Canyon had captured these moments, b
ut I’m glad he thought they were important. It means they meant something to him too. I hand the book to mom, and she puts it away. My gift is the last one so I hand the small box to Parker. He lifts the lid, and I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, waiting for a reaction. He stares at the box for a long moment before taking the pair of tickets out.
“They’re Packers ticket,” I say. “The game won’t be for a few months but they're playing the Titans in Nashville. I know you’ve always wanted to go, and I had some extra money saved up.” I trail off because mom is full out crying now and Parker looks…God I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting him to jump out of his wheelchair, but I thought he’d be excited. Mom announces that she needs to use the bathroom and hurries from the kitchen. Whitney looks about as confused as I feel and Canyon’s eyes are on me.
“If you don’t want them, we don’t have to go,” I say slowly, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. “You’ve always wanted to go, and I feel bad for being gone the last two years. I thought this would be a good way to make up for it.”
He runs a hand over his mouth and puts the tickets back in the box. “No. Elaine. I’m sorry. That’s not it, I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect you to get me something like this” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “You know I want to go with you. I’d be an idiot to miss my favorite football team with my favorite sister.”
I can barely force a smile, but I try because I don’t want him to think I’m upset. I’m not. Just confused. Going to a Packers game has been a lifelong dream of his. He used to beg for tickets when we were kids, but mom could never afford them. That’s what I don’t get. He finally gets what he wanted after all these years and he’s not even excited.
“I should probably get going,” Whitney’s voice interrupts my thoughts, breaking the silence that’s taken over the room. “It’s getting late, and I have a movie date with Clark.”
I lift a questioning eyebrow as she stands up and throws her plate in the trash. “I’ll call you later,” she tells me with a mischievous smile that only fuels my interest in what’s going on with her and Clark Benson. Whitney says goodbye and I’m left alone with Canyon and Parker. Canyon still hasn’t said anything which isn’t like him. He’s never this quiet and it’s freaking me out. Mom hasn’t come back from the bathroom, so I start cleaning. I want to help her out since she seems upset. But I really just need something to do that isn’t sitting awkwardly at the table. Thankfully mom is a strong supporter of paper plates, so the only thing I have to wash is the pans and our glasses. I fill the sink with hot water and start scrubbing.
“Need some help?” Canyon stands beside me so that we are elbow to elbow and picks up a dishtowel off the counter. I throw a look over my shoulder and notice Parker is gone.
“I can handle it,” I say, rinsing off a glass. He takes it from my hand and starts drying but instead of arguing, I let him.
For the next five minutes we do the dishes in silence with me washing and him drying. Occasionally our fingers brush or his shoulder will graze mine. It’s enough of a distraction to momentarily keep my mind off things but it’s also a distraction I don’t need. I can’t think straight when I’m around him and what happened the other night is a perfect example. There’s still too much floating around between us. Too many old feelings. An attraction that was never completely severed. It’s stupid to keep allowing myself to feel it but I’m not sure how to cut it off either. Not sure how to rid myself of someone who runs through my veins thicker than blood.
“What are you thinking about?” He takes the last pan from me and starts drying.
I shut off the faucet and pull the plug, watching the water spin down the drain. I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my head like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on inside. That’s how I know he’s not just looking at me. He’s seeing me. Always seeing me.
“Nothing,” I lie, leaning against the sink, my arms crossed.
He matches my position. “He loves the tickets if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It didn’t seem like it,” I say truthfully.
“He loves them, Elle. I know he does. I think he’s upset that you spent money out of your savings to buy them. He knows you use that money for school.”
He’s right. I’ve had to work part time just to cover my school expenses and half the time that’s not enough. But I owe Parker so much. So much more than football tickets. I owe him things I’ll never be able to give him and even if I could, it still wouldn’t make it right. It wouldn’t fix that I disappeared for two years without making more than a few phone calls. Giving him the tickets is just a band-aide on a wound but I want to know I did something to try and heal it because I’m tired of leaving it open.
“I don’t care about the money,” I say. “I can get the money back. What I can’t get back is the last two years. I messed up, Canyon. I’ve messed up a lot with Parker, and he’s still so forgiving. I just want to make him happy.”
I feel the swell of tears building in my eyes, spilling over before I can stop them. Canyon steps in front of me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his chest, his chin resting on top of my head. We stay like this for a long time. He doesn’t try to talk and doesn’t push me to. Somehow he always knows what I need. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need this. I need Canyon like he’s as vital as air or a heartbeat. Like he’s my own personal lifeline, and I need him to survive. I’m starting to realize I don’t have a choice in how I feel. That he still owns every part of me in some way. Fighting is futile. Running only gets me so far. Because somehow, even when I think I’m running further and further away, I end up right back in his arms. Right where I know I’m supposed to be.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are we doing here?”
Canyon kills the engine and shuts off the headlights. Everything is dark, but I know this place like the back of my hand.
“I thought we could hang out here.” He grabs the bags of fast food from the seat and looks at me. “Is that a problem?”
Yes.
I shake my head anyways and follow him out of the truck. It’s a full moon tonight, so there’s no trouble seeing as we drop the tailgate and sit down. We have a perfect view of the town spread out below us and if you look far enough you can see the lake in the distance. If I’d known Canyon was taking me here, I would’ve been a little more apprehensive about coming. But I was anxious to get out of the house and even hanging with Canyon sounded better than spending another second with mom. Since Parker’s party last weekend, she’s been in a mood. It’s like walking on thin ice with her, and I don’t want to be there when she breaks. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but she’s crying a lot. I can hear her in her room most afternoons when she wakes up. She hasn’t said a word to me, only communicating with Parker. And when I asked him if she’s okay, he said she’s fine. But I don’t think I believe him.
“Why are we here, Canyon?” I ask again.
He stops unwrapping his burger but keeps his eyes on the ground. “For the same reason I’ve always come here. It’s quiet. And I think we could both use some silence in our life right now.”
Without bothering to give any explanation why, he takes a bite and stares off in the distance. I do the same. And the longer we sit here, no talking, just listening, I feel lighter and freer, and I can’t help but wonder if the silence has a way of drawing out all the noises we’re accustomed to. The ones that weigh us down and make us anxious.
“It seems like a lifetime ago that we met here.” I lean back on my hands, staring at the old rusty railing at the edge of the cliff. Not so long ago, it was the fine line between my life and death. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d crossed it. If I hadn’t listened to Canyon. Would I have left all the pain behind? Or would it still be there waiting on the other side? Mostly I’m glad I never found out.
“It’s been over three years. In some ways that does feel like a lifetime.” Canyon says, tossing his empty wrap
per in the bag. He takes a drink and nibbles on the end of the straw. There’s nothing intentionally sexual about it but it makes my stomach stir with a dull ache that only makes me wish he were chewing on my lips that way.
Stupid straw.
Stupid thoughts.
“You want a drink?”
I blink.
He’s watching me and there’s no way he didn’t catch me staring.
“No thanks.” I pick up my strawberry milkshake and give it a little wave. “You can’t eat a burger without a milkshake.”
He smiles, that damn straw still between his teeth. “Says who?”
“Says every waitress at Alden’s Dairy Bar.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re just trying to get you to buy a milkshake.”
I shrug and lick the ice cream off my straw. “Well, they have good sell tactics because it’s working.”
He laughs. A quiet but throaty laugh that gives me chills even in the late summer heat.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I need to lay off the junk food.” My eyes shift to Canyon right as he’s leaning in. I don’t know how he got so close so fast but he’s right beside me. Our arms and thighs press together and his face is the only thing in my line of vision.
“You probably wouldn’t last a day,” he says softly, and then he’s touching my mouth. I stay completely still as he swipes his thumb against the corner and pulls back, sucking it into his mouth. He lets out a low groan of approval and I’m certain it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “That’s a damn good shake.” He says.
I nod my head because my tongue is numb, and I’m pretty sure that sound he made just exploded a handful of brain cells. The truck bounces when he jumps off, and I watch him climb into the cab and turn on the music. When he’s standing in front of me again, his camera is hanging around his neck.
“What are you doing with that?” I ask, slurping out the last of my milkshake.
Before I can protest, he snaps a picture, his grin visible behind the camera.