Promise Me

by Samanthe Beck

  An Uber picks me up from the studio and forty-five minutes later, I’m at the airport, anxious to get in the air and unplug for a few hours. I call my mom from the terminal to let her know I’m coming home. Her excitement overshadows her concern with my last-minute decision. I’ve got plenty of clothes still in my bedroom closet and can stop at a drugstore for toiletries. Next, I text Brit to give her a quick update.

  Everything has come to a head. Called things off with Vaughn, and Candace offered me a job. Am flying home for the weekend to talk to my parents…and Mason hopefully. Will FaceTime with you later to tell you everything.

  She immediately texts back.

  Sorryations! That’s sorry + congratulations. I need ALL the details. Wish New York wasn’t so far away, but you’ve got this. Love you.

  Thx. Love you, too.

  Finally, I call Amber to tell her I’m flying home for the weekend and why. She wishes me safe travels and then shouts—across the room to Dixie, I imagine—what I’m up to. Dixie yells back, “About fucking time, princess.”

  I wholeheartedly agree.

  …

  I step outside into warm, noisy, fuel-smelling air and find my mom leaning against her car (parked illegally) in the pick-up line of the airport. The second our eyes meet, she’s moving toward me with open arms. “Hi, sweetheart. It’s so wonderful to see you.” She wraps me in a tight hug. “How was your flight?”

  “Hi, Mom.” I hold on to her, the warmth of her embrace the comfort I need after four hours spent thinking about my life. “It was good.”

  She pulls back, her hands on my upper arms, as she studies me for a long moment like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen and she wants to fix whatever is troubling me. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” Our weekly phone calls could never replace being together in person. We’ve always been close, and my eyes grow heavy with emotion. It’s not that I share everything with her. She is my mother. But the hard things, the things I’m afraid to say out loud, I know I can tell her without fear of being made to feel small.

  “That you left Los Angeles in such a hurry tells me we have a lot of catching up to do. Come on.”

  We get in the car, leave the bustling Chicago airport and setting sun behind us, and begin the hour-long drive to my small Wisconsin hometown. The distance gives us plenty of time to talk.

  “How are things with Amber and Dixie?” Mom asks. That’s one of the amazing things about my mom. She cares deeply for my stepsisters because they’re important to my dad and me.

  “Getting better every day. We’re finally finding some common ground and that makes it harder for them to hate me.”

  “They never hated you.” She has to say that. It’s in the Mom rulebook. For my whole life, she’s talked me down from my difficulties with my sisters. Sometimes she succeeded. Sometimes she didn’t.

  “Mom?” I need to tell her my main reason for visiting before I lose my nerve and before I can continue to talk about everything else.

  She glances at me. “Yes?”

  “I want to see Mason.”

  Mom gives a shaky breath as her chest slowly rises then falls. She keeps her attention on the road, one second, then another ticking by. “I knew this day would come, but I have to ask, is this about Vaughn?”

  She doesn’t know all the details of our relationship, but she’s smart and can decipher my phone voice like nobody’s business, so she knows he and I are more than friends.

  “This is about me taking charge of my life. Closure is important, and I never got any where Mason’s concerned. He didn’t get any, either, and if he needs something from me, too, I want to give it to him.”

  She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Sounds like it’s time to find out.”

  “Do you think Carrie and Brian will allow me to see him?”

  “I don’t know, honey. He’s getting weaker, according to the last update I got from Carrie. They added a second caregiver for nights. But we can drive over there and ask.”

  My mom has always supported me with the tenacity of a bulldog, but I need to do this on my own. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll call Carrie and ask first. I don’t want to show up unannounced.”

  “Their number is still the same,” Mom says.

  I call Mason’s mom. She’s surprised to hear from me, yet also understanding after I tell her how I’ve never stopped loving Mason, but that the time has come for me to move on, and I can’t do that without seeing and talking to him. I want him to hear my voice. I want him to know he’ll always have a place in my heart. She sniffles over the phone line, which makes me choke up, which makes my mom tear up, and it’s like our emotions are finally set free. They say time heals all wounds, and I’m grateful when Carrie says she and Brian are home for the night and I’m welcome to stop by.

  After I hang up, Mom and I don’t talk, but she reaches for my hand and doesn’t let go. I appreciate her silent understanding. Sometimes everything that needs to be said is done so without words.

  The quiet also gives me time to mentally prepare. I’m scared to see Mason, worried I might react in an unkind way. I remember with vivid detail how he looked in the hospital. A thick white dressing around his head, his face bruised and swollen. He was unable to communicate or move, save for the brief shifting of his once vibrant brown eyes. I’d bitten my lip to keep from shrieking, only to lose my shit in the next second.

  “Hey,” my mom says, pulling me out of my recollection. “One step and deep breath at a time.” She comes to a stop in Mason’s driveway, the house a mere two blocks from my own.

  I wrap her in a hug. The saying has always been her motto. Her way of reminding me to stay in the moment, recommended for everything from stage fright to performance anxiety before a tough algebra exam, to seeing my ex-boyfriend for the first time in years after my reckless action left him profoundly and irreversibly injured.

  “Want me to come with you?” she asks.

  Reaching for the door handle, I lightly shake my head. “I’d rather do this on my own.”

  “Okay. I love you.” She wipes the corner of her eye. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Before I’ve even stepped onto the porch, Carrie opens the front door, and it suddenly feels like things are moving too fast—the world, my blood, my thoughts. I fight to hold my ground, put one foot in front of the other, while every instinct inside me screams to turn and run. What if this is a terrible idea? What if Mason stares at me with vacant eyes, or worse, opens his mouth and screams, “You did this to me!” like some kind of horrible miracle? Worse, and far more likely, what if he’s an unrecognizable shell of a person, hooked up to tubes and wires, and I’m the one who freaks?

  “Kendall,” Carrie says with such hesitation my heart splinters. There was a time she greeted me with open arms.

  “Hi. Thank you so much for letting me drop by like this.”

  She nods before leading me into the house that was my second home while Mason and I dated. Familiarity wraps around me. Everything looks the same. But like Carrie, Brian greets me like if he blinked and I disappeared, he’d be okay with that. “Hi, Kendall.”

  I chew on the inside of my mouth. I will not cry in front of them.

  We make small talk and, while strained, Carrie and Brian’s ambivalence toward me thaws as I share details about my life and look them both in the eye to say how often I’ve thought about Mason. How things he said and did live in my memory and continue to shape me in so many ways. He mattered. He’ll always matter to me. I don’t know if it’s the passage of time, or my sincerity, or both, but when Carrie steps forward to hug me, it’s a turning point I feel deep in my bones.

  “I gave Mason’s caregiver the night off so you two could spend time alone together.”

  “Thank you. And, Carrie, I’m sorry—”

  She holds up her hand. “You know what? You’ve apologized over and over again, and I think maybe it’s time I apologized to you.”
/>
  I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I do. I was—I am—selfish when it comes to Mason, and I didn’t realize how much it would affect you, keeping the two of you apart. You took a risk calling me, and I’m glad you did.”

  I press my lips together, unable to speak.

  “Mason wouldn’t want anybody’s sorrow as his legacy. Especially yours. So for that, I am sorry it took me a while to get here.” She pauses outside his half-open door, puts her hand on my forearm. “Nothing has really changed since you saw him in the hospital,” she says softly, “but Brian and I believe he recognizes voices, so talk as much as you want.”

  “Okay,” I murmur, overcome with emotion. Carrie walks away, not the least bit hesitant to leave me to enter Mason’s room alone. I almost call for her to come back, but instead I push open the door, my pulse racing and my body shaking. The moment I see him, tears trickle down my face. Cuts and bruises no longer mar his handsome face, but otherwise, he does look much the same.

  And also different. Or maybe it’s me who’s different. I’ve grown out of my seventeen-year-old self. But he’s thinner. Frailer. More like a boy. While I’ve been maturing into womanhood, he’s been reverting.

  I sit in the chair beside his bed, glad to find his eyes open. “Hi, Mason. It’s me.” His eyes briefly flit toward me, and I choke out a sob. Whether or not he truly understands I’m here, I’m convinced he does. And I’m determined to make up for my absence, starting at the beginning.

  “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to see you. I’m sorry it’s been such a long time, but please know not a day has passed that I haven’t thought about you. I’ve missed you so much, but before I tell you all the things I want to share, I want to apologize. I’m so sorry about the accident. I’m sorry for crashing your car. I’m sorry I drove when I shouldn’t have.” I let out a slow breath then swallow.

  “And I’m sorrier than you will ever know that you were hurt.” I brush the hair off his forehead with a gentle touch. I wish more than anything he could respond, but decide to take his silence as acceptance.

  “I went to NYU like we planned. Mom and Dad tried to gently push me in a different direction—NYU was too far away, too closely associated with you, but I insisted. In truth, I wasn’t ready to abandon our plan. A part of me hoped for a miracle. Hoped you’d somehow recover and join me. All would be forgiven and we’d live happily ever after just as we’d always envisioned.” I pause to wipe away new tears. “But that miracle wasn’t in the cards, was it? Instead, I learned how to face a reality I hated, which was its own kind of miracle. I learned how to reconcile regret with forgiveness. I learned to let go of things I couldn’t change no matter how desperately I wished to and move forward in a way that would make you proud…

  “The summer after my sophomore year I got an internship at a law firm, which pretty much meant there was no going back on law school after that, at least in my father’s eyes. I know it’s not what we dreamed about, but I stopped acting after the accident. It wasn’t the same dream without you there…

  “I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone from our group of friends. Sarah reached out and we texted each other a few times. I know, right? The girl who tried numerous times to break us up had the decency to see if I was okay. I hear she and Davis are dating now…

  “I graduated at the top of my class and was accepted to the University of Chicago for law school. To say my dad’s ecstatic would be an understatement. He’s got the next several years of my life mapped out. Graduate with top honors, join his firm, and earn some kickass nickname so everyone knows I’m a force to be reckoned with. All good things, but my heart isn’t really in it…

  “So my aunt hatched the perfect plan to get Dixie, Amber, and me together this summer. Amber is definitely nicer to me than Dixie, but now that we’re older, we’re figuring out how to get along better. We are getting along better, and I’m hopeful…

  “I still have the framed Winnie the Pooh quote you gave me. I kept it on my nightstand in college and you can bet when I move into my own place, it will always be on display. I treasure it, so thank you again for giving it to me…”

  There’s a knock on the open door. “Kendall?” Carrie says.

  I look over at her.

  “Just wanted to check on you. Your mom called when you didn’t answer her call or text.”

  I reach into my purse. “I forgot to take my phone off airplane mode. Sorry. I’ll text her.”

  “No worries, but—”

  “Oh my gosh. It’s eleven o’clock?” I’ve been talking nonstop for three hours.

  “It is,” Carrie says around a weary smile. These past hours have no doubt been hard on her, too.

  “I’m sorry I kept you up. I had a lot I wanted to tell him.” I notice I have two more texts from Vaughn before tucking my phone away. “I’ll say good night and then head home.”

  “Sounds good. Brian will drive you.”

  “That’s okay. I can walk.” I did it all the time when younger, and our gated community is safe even at this hour. Before she turns to go, I jump to my feet and hurry to hug her. “Thank you so, so much for letting me see him,” I mumble.

  She squeezes me back. “You’re welcome.”

  When I return to Mason, his eyes are closed, so I focus on the rise and fall of his chest as I speak. “I have to go now. Sorry doesn’t begin to cover what I feel, but I think you know that. You know, because if we were to change places, I’d know. I’d know it was a terrible, unfortunate accident and never blame you. And I wouldn’t want you to punish yourself. I’d want you to move forward and live your best life. I’d never begrudge you that.” I wipe under my runny nose. “Thanks for being the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. You were everything to me and I’m really glad I got to see and talk to you tonight. Please know you’ll forever hold a special place in my heart, and I’ll always love you.” He makes a sound. It’s small and incoherent, but it’s the most beautiful utterance I’ve ever heard.

  “Good-bye,” I whisper, dropping a kiss on his forehead as I stand to go.

  On the walk home, a sense of peace settles in my soul. Mason will always own parts of my heart—the first boyfriend part, the first kiss part. First love. But he won’t be the last, and that’s okay. He loved me, too. He wanted me to be brave, and strong, and smart. He’d want me to live my life.

  A light breeze tousles my hair. A full moon lights the sky. Fireflies perform acrobatics in my periphery. I pause on the sidewalk to reminisce about kissing him under the trees, picnicking on the grass, and laughing and chasing each other with Super Soakers. We shared so much, and for that I’m grateful.

  My parents are asleep when I get home. I change into a nightshirt, use the new toothbrush Mom left out for me, wash my face, and crawl under the covers of my bed. My phone is almost out of charge when I pull up Vaughn’s texts. I hope you’re okay, his last one says. Please let me know.

  I remember now that he’s in San Francisco. That he’d wanted me to join him there. His concern—even when working out of town—hits me in susceptible places. I should make a clean break where he’s concerned, for both our sakes, but there’s nothing clean about letting him worry. I’m okay. Flew home for the weekend. Thanks for checking.

  Three tiny dots immediately wave back, and just like that I discover it’s possible for a heart to soar and sink at the same time. I wasn’t expecting an immediate response.

  Talk tomorrow? It’s late there and you’re probably tired.

  Exhausted is more like it. Now that I’m cozied up under my down comforter, I’m minutes away from falling asleep.

  I don’t think that’s a good idea, I text back. Understatement of the ages. It’s like tearing fresh stitches from a deep wound.

  Tomorrow, angel.

  Two little words bring back the soaring, sinking sensation. I refuse to jeopardize his career, but—my willpower at an all-time low, I put my phone aside—I’ll find the strength to
stand firm tomorrow. My eyes droop closed in an instant, and my mind wanders back to this morning and replays every horrible second of the conversation between Vaughn and his dad. The next thing I know sunlight streams through the slats of the shutters on my window and I blink awake, unsure of what the day will bring.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kendall

  The smell of homemade waffles lures me into the kitchen. I pad into the room to find Mom at the stove and Dad at the square wood table reading the newspaper. “Good morning.”

  “There she is.” Dad puts down the paper and stands. “Get over here and give your father a hug, Kenny.”

  “Hi, Dad.” I walk into his arms, his familiar scent always comforting.

  “How was your visit with Mason?” Mom asks over Dad’s shoulder.

  “Incredibly special…and incredibly difficult.”

  Dad gives me an extra hug, then releases me and returns to his chair. “Important things often are.”

  “Do you need any help?” I ask my mom, not wanting to go into any further details. This morning I have something else on my mind.

  “Nope. This next one is for you. Have a seat.” I sit in my usual spot across from my dad and eye the maple syrup, berries, and powdered sugar sitting in the center of the table. My dad’s plate is well used already.

  “How’s California?” he asks.

  I pop a raspberry into my mouth. “Great.” Not counting yesterday morning, which I’ve decided to strike from my testimony.

  (Yes, I just sounded like an attorney. Being in the same room as my dad does that to me.)

  “Your sisters?”

  Dad narrows his focus directly at me. He thinks he can read me like I’m on the witness stand, and oftentimes he can, but I’ve had practice over the years, and if there’s something I don’t want him to see, I’m good at hiding it. My sisters are a topic I’m willing to share openly, though. The hope in his eyes makes it hard to hold anything back where they’re concerned. He loves them.