Dear Tori

by Renee Fowler

  Keeping my arms wrapped around her shoulders, I bury my nose in the top of her hair. Despite the sturdy fence, I hate standing this close to the edge with her, and I drag her back several feet.

  “I’m not going to fall again,” she promises.

  “I would never let you fall again.”

  Tori pouts up at me. “That was a long time ago now, Noah. And you didn’t let me fall. I managed to do that all on my own.”

  I push the hair back from her face, and stare down into her eyes, trying so damn hard to ground myself in the present. She’s right. That was over ten years ago now, but the sound of the water crashing far below is dredging that horrific night back up. No matter how much I’d like to forget it, I can’t.

  When it happened there was just enough moonlight to make her out far below, her leg jutting out at an unnatural angle, the dark stain of blood spreading out across that rock beneath her. If she had landed a couple of feet over, the water would’ve broke her fall.

  People used to jump into the water from up here all the time. Tori and I had done it on a few hot afternoons. Despite the fence and signs warning of the danger, I bet people still brave that jump on warm enough days.

  By the time I got down to her that night, the pool of blood had spread. What I first mistook for moss or something glistening wetly, I realized was her actual exposed brains. Her head was split open like a melon. I thought she was dead. We all did. There wasn’t a person there that thought she would survive.

  Tori reaches up to touch my face. “Noah, what is it?”

  I can’t remember the last time I cried real tears, but I can’t hold them back no matter how much I try. I have to tell her, don’t I? I need to tell Tori the truth. She made me swear, no more secrets, and no more lies. “Babe, it was my fault. The whole thing was my fault.”

  “No it wasn’t. That doesn’t make any sense. How was it your fault?”

  “We were fighting that night.”

  “We were? About what?”

  I take her hand and lead her back further away from the edge. Even that fence isn’t enough to put my mind at ease. She fits her fingers between mine and presses her body close as we walk slowly through the grove of trees. “We’d actually been fighting before we showed up,” I admit. “You were gonna go to school pretty close, so we could be together, and you could stay on at the farm to help out, but I guess you got an offer from a different school far away. Whatever it was, you changed your mind, and I wasn’t all that happy about it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m the one that should be saying sorry. I’m the one… I should’ve said congratulations and I’m proud of you for getting into a better school, not tried to guilt you into staying. That was bullshit. It was selfish.”

  Tori waves her hand. “That was also a long time ago, Noah. It doesn’t matter now.”

  Through the sparse trees, I can just make out Tori’s truck in the distance. That night someone had built a big bonfire on the edge of the gravel lot, and there were kids milling all over the place, most of them graduating seniors. I kick at a cracked and crumpled red, plastic cup on the ground, just like the ones everyone was drinking out of that evening. “You wanted me to take you home. You were pissed off. I was pissed off. I should’ve just taken you home, and—” my voice cracks. “None of this would’ve happened.”

  “Noah, it’s not your fault.”

  “We were both pissed off,” I continue. “And we were both drinking. All of us were. Everyone was over that way.” I point through the trees. “And you stomped off with that piece of shit into the woods, and I just let you. I let you walk off mad, with him.”

  “What piece of shit? Who was it?”

  “Chris.”

  “Oh.” Tori laughs. “I keep forgetting we were friends.”

  “He wasn’t your friend.”

  Her eyebrows pinch together as she waits for me to explain.

  “After a while I thought I better go look for you.” Swallowing thickly, I scrub a hand over my face. I hate thinking about this next part as much as the image of Tori twisted and broken at the bottom of the falls. “I found you… with Chris.”

  “What do you mean, with him?” she asks in a faint voice.

  Suddenly I’m shaking with rage. All these years later, it still infuriates me. “I found you together, and at first I thought… We’d just had a fight, and even though I couldn’t believe you’d do that, at first I thought you were into it, then I realized—”

  She makes a choking sound, and slips her hand free of mine. Her wide eyes are darting all around. “We were talking, and he kissed me.” She rubs a hand over her mouth, like she’s wiping away that long ago kiss. “I told him to stop. I said we were just friends, and I didn’t think of him that way. I told him to stop, but... he didn’t stop,” she whispers. Her green eyes are rapidly filling with tears, then without warning she darts away from me, weaving back and forth through the trees frantically. Her head whips around, like she’s looking for something, and I chase after her. “There were three tree trunks behind me. He had me backed up between them, and I couldn’t...” Tori skids to a stop in front of three slender birch threes in a little cluster.

  I should’ve never told her, I think, watching her back up into the tight space created by the trees. With Chris in front of her, it was like a little cage she couldn’t escape. Her eyes are huge and terrified, and I know she’s reliving that memory. This is something she didn’t have to remember. She hasn’t seen or heard from Chris for years now, and this is a memory that was better left buried.

  All I want to do is go to her, comfort her somehow, but I don’t want to box her in like he did. I don’t want to make this any worse than I already have.

  “You got there just in time,” Tori says, blinking at me. “He was about to… You pulled him off me right before it happened.”

  I let out a long, ragged breath. I never had a chance to find out from her how far it went. Of course according to Chris, nothing happened that she didn’t want, but I know what I saw. His hands and body pinning her against those trees. Her clothes shoved aside and half torn off. She was drunk, and a lot smaller than him to begin with. What I had first mistook as a passionate moan from her, I realized was a muffled scream the second I pulled him off her and saw her face streaked with tears.

  “I wanted to kill him.” I take Tori’s hand and lead her out of that triangle of tree trunks. “You tried to stop me.”

  Tori frowned. “I was trying to protect him?”

  I’m not sure how much she’s remembering. We were all drinking, and with all those years between, even I can’t remember everything that happened now. “You didn’t want me to get in trouble, and I really might’ve killed him. You were trying to pull me off him, but I was fucking enraged, you know?”

  “Thank you, Noah.”

  “Don’t thank me! Jesus, Tori. Don’t you get it? You were trying to pull me off him and you fell.”

  Tori looked between the clump of birch trees and the fence bordering the top of the falls. “How?”

  “I felt your hands yanking on my shirt, and then I heard you scream. A few seconds later, I think.” Was it really only seconds? Scratching my head, my eyes sweep between the birch trees and the high ledge of the waterfall. There’s a much further distance between them than I remembered. I haven’t been back here since that night though, and I haven’t let myself think about it much, at least I’ve tried not to.

  Tori rubs her fingertips over her cheeks, then smoothes her hands down the front of her dress with this faraway look in her eyes. The whole time she’s walking backwards slowly and shaking her head. “It wasn’t your fault, Noah. Someone pushed me. You’re not the reason I fell.”

  “Someone pushed you?” I rush over and grab her. Even with that fence there, I don’t like the sight of her shuffling backwards towards the edge.

  Tori let out a low, anguished sound. “It was Rachel. She thought the same thing as you. She saw us, Chris and me, and th
ought I was… If I had screamed louder when I had the chance, none of this would’ve happened. I didn’t think Chris would really do that. I thought he was my friend.”

  “Tori, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It wasn’t your fault either.” She lets out a long, tired sigh. “It wasn’t even Rachel’s fault. Not really. I don’t think she meant to push me over the edge. It was dark, and we were all drinking, and… Noah, is that why? You blamed yourself. You hung on all those years, and did all that for me, because you felt guilty?”

  “No. Of course not.” Had I felt guilty? Hell yeah, I felt guilty. It ate at me for years, but that’s not why I loved her. “Is that why you waited three years for me, because you felt guilty?”

  Tori shook her head.

  “Why’d you wait?”

  “Because I love you.”

  I shrug. “Well, there ya go. I love you too. I always have, and I always will. I would do anything for you, Tori.”

  “You better not do anything that’s gonna land your ass back in jail, for me or for any other reason,” she warns. “I’m not kidding, Noah.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. “We’ve already wasted so many years. I’m not going to waste another day. You’re gonna have to put up with me from here on out. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever.”

  Epilogue

  Tori

  “Oh, my god. Noah, what were we thinking?” My eyes are locked on the dark, overcast sky outside the window. The pastel streamers hanging off the covered back deck twist in the strong wind. A few break loose and flutter out towards the field that flanks our home. “Everything’s going to be ruined.”

  Noah’s strong arms circle around my waist, hugging me from behind. He pats my growing baby bump affectionately and cradles me against his solid chest. “Babe, nothing is ruined,” he says in a calming tone. “I just watched the weather. It’s only a little rain shower that’s going to move right on through.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll move the party inside.”

  I stare around our kitchen with a dubious look. The house we had built a mile up the road from my childhood home might be big enough for our growing family, but I doubt it’s big enough for a dozen rambunctious five year olds.

  Celeste wanders into the kitchen on bare feet. Noah releases me and goes to scoop up our daughter before she can snatch one of the frosted cupcakes off the counter. “Those are for the party, princess.” he says.

  With her dark hair and light, brown eyes, Celeste is the spitting image of Noah. She’s about as much of a princess as I was at the age though, not much of one at all, but she grins up at her daddy over the endearment. “But it’s my birthday,” she whines.

  Noah throws me a questioning look. If I wasn’t standing there, Celeste would’ve already been halfway through that cupcake. We both know it. She has him wrapped around her little finger, and has since day one.

  I shrug. “Oh, go ahead. But just one, and then you need to get cleaned up for your party.”

  Noah sets Celeste down. She makes a beeline for the cupcakes and snags one down from the counter. The baby monitor sitting off to the side lights up, and a soft, mewling cry fills the room. I make a movement towards the stairs, and Noah blocks my path. “Babe, go sit down and relax. I’ve got him. I took the day off from the garage so I could give you a hand.”

  I do take his advice and sit down, but I’m not sure if what I’m feeling could be termed as relaxed. Organizing this birthday party, on top of everything else, has taken a toll. After his uncle retired, Noah took over the day to day operations of the garage. Maggie and I are still busy with the farm, but she’s married to Buck now, and he’s happy enough to help out. The pumpkin patch and hayride idea Abby suggested years ago really took off, and we have a handful of full time employees to keep things humming along. Add in two kids, and a third on the way, and some days I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

  But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe this isn’t the life I envisioned for myself when I was younger, but then again, maybe it is.

  Those memories never did come back, and after all these years I’ve finally stopped worrying about it. Like Noah reminded me once, memories fade for everyone over time, and no one is good at everything. He’s here to help Celeste with her homework, and I’m happy enough to bait both their hooks when we go fishing at the pond. When the kids get older, he can teach them how to change oil, and I can show them how things are done around the farm.

  Noah wanders back in carrying our two year old Kevin. He reaches for me, and Noah leans down to hand him off, giving me a kiss at the same time.

  When we found out we were having a boy, I knew I wanted to name him after my father, and Noah was quick to agree. We still don’t know what we’re having this time around. For our third, and probably final child, we both thought it might be nice to leave it a surprise.

  While I’m cuddling my youngest, and Noah is getting things set up for the party, the front door bursts open. My twelve year old brother Brandon charges in ahead of his mother, and just like Celeste, he heads straight for the goodies laid out in the kitchen.

  “Brandon,” Maggie calls out in an exasperated sigh.

  I wave my hand. “He’s fine.”

  “It looks like it’s about to pour out there,” she says.

  “I know,” I say miserably. “Where’s Buck?”

  “He’s coming.” Maggie whisks Kevin out of my arms. “Do you need help with anything?”

  “Nah, I think we got it covered,” Noah says.

  Just then a loud rumble of thunder rattles the floor boards and rain begins to pelt against the metal roof. “Great,” I say. “I guess we’re going to be entertaining a dozen little girls inside all day.”

  Bailey, our labrador lets out a baleful bark and charges into the room, looking for company. He’s always skittish when it storms. We picked Bailey out together a few months after Lola died of old age. That was a hard day for all of us. Noah got her when she was a puppy, and she kept me company all those years he was locked up. Celeste was still a toddler at the time, far too young to understand the permanence of death, and she’d spent weeks searching all of Lola’s regular hiding spots for our pet.

  We all make a mad dash to throw up decorations along the living room and front hall, but before we get too far along, the rain peters out and stops completely. The sky outside lightens and the sun breaks through.

  “C’mere, babe,” Noah calls from the kitchen.

  I waddle in his direction, and he leads me out onto the back deck. There’s a big, pretty rainbow stretched across the sky. It’s not the first we’ve seen since that visit to the falls six years ago, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Noah’s hand circles my wrist, as he pulls me up against him. Gazing down into my eyes, his fingers trace along all those charms he sent me so many years ago.

  I don’t have to remember that first rainbow we spotted together back in high school to know we loved each other then, just like we love each other now. Noah kept those memories alive for both of us, and we’ve made plenty more since then.

  He dips his head lower to brush his lips against mine. I experience that same dizzying rush as our first kiss, the first one I remember anyway. Even when I didn’t know his name, I guess something in me recognized Noah. A love like ours is impossible to forget completely.

  Thanks for Reading

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