He finishes the poem, my cheeks flush red and I feel like I can’t breathe. Ian looks at me again, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Sweet dreams, my Bright Star.”
My heart bursts in my chest as I whisper back, “Sweet dreams, my Bright Star.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It’s now New Year’s Eve. Finn invited me to come to the dinner and celebrate with Jack and him, but I just wasn't feeling up to it. Mom was released from the hospital yesterday morning with strict orders from her doctor to take it easy and get plenty of rest, so I'm at home watching Sammy.
I order a pepperoni pizza and we watch Batman Begins. Sammy insists he needs to reenact all of Batman's lines, after a while, I give up watching it with him and instead pull up a book on my phone and read until the movie finishes. Afterward, we play board games as we wait to watch the Times Square countdown on TV.
“Does your person have brown hair?” Sammy asks, staring intently at his Guess Who board.
“Uh, nope,” I say. “Is your person wearing glasses?”
“Nope. You’ll never guess who I am. Muhahaha.” He erupts into a fit of giggles.
My cell phone rings on the kitchen counter. My heart starts to sink and then I remember that mom is upstairs, safe and sound.
It's nice being able to breathe again.
Sammy gets up to answer the phone, while I start clearing away our dinner plates and empty soda cans. “I don’t understand you.” He says, “Please speak English.”
“Sammy? Who is that? Just hang up.”
His face is scrunched up as he walks into the room. “You talk funny. Yeah, she’s here.”
“Sammy? Who is it?”
He pauses and then whispers into the phone, “What's your name?”
Whoever is on the other end must respond because Sammy starts singing. “Emily and Ian—“ I launch after him. “Sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” I snatch the phone from him frantically and he starts laughing maniacally. “You've got a boooyyyfreind.”
“Hello? Ian?” There’s laughter on the end of the line. I smile. Ian and I have talked non-stop over break—calls, emails, texts. It’s funny how when Mason and I were separated, our communication fizzled out, but now that Ian and I are separated are communication is constant.
Sammy tries to prod the phone from me, I push him away. “Go watch the countdown.”
He sticks his tongue out and starts prancing around chanting, “Emily’s got a boooyfriend. Emily’s got a boooyfriend.”
I ignore him, walking to the kitchen instead as I try to hide my mortification. It feels as if I'm trapped in one of those old sitcom TV shows my mom is always watching with the fake audience laughter cues and choruses of admiration whenever something cute happens.
“What are you up too? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” I ask, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Been there, done that,” Ian says and I see that lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Time difference, remember? I’m like 5 hours ahead of you.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. Wait that means it’s like 4 AM. WHY are you still awake?”
“4:10 to be exact, and I couldn’t sleep. The neighbors are still setting off fireworks.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Yeah, well. What about you? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”
“Nah, I stayed in to watch Sammy, so mom could rest.”
“How's she doing?” Ian asks, and once again his selfless concern for me and my mom's well being knocks the wind out of me. My heart swells in my chest and all at once I know that Danielle was right.
I like Ian, and I think it’s possible I might even love him.
He has completely taken over my thoughts, and even when I think I’m not thinking of him, I’ll find myself catching a whiff of his cologne or read a random history fact and my mind’s Ian Radar goes off again.
Ian clears his throat, pulling me from my thoughts. “Is everything okay? Did your mom get admitted again?”
“No,” I say, a lump forms in my throat, but for once my tears aren't from sadness. I sigh contently. “Everything is perfect.”
“Sorry, you’re stuck at home. I wish I could be there with you.”
“So I could kick your butt in the game of LIFE?”
“Aren't we a little cocky?” He laughs into the phone. “What makes you think you'd win?”
“I always win at LIFE . . . expect when I play with Sammy. He's the worst little cheater in the world.”
“Teach me his ways, he must.”
I snort.
“Nice, Yoda impersonation.”
I walk towards the living room doorway to check on Sammy. He’s fast asleep, clutching the new Batman figurine I got him for Christmas. His arm is dangling off the couch and his chest rises and falls in slow, steady breaths.
“Why, thank you,” Ian says I picture him bowing slowly like he's just won a standing ovation. “How is Sammy holding up? He seemed alright even if he didn’t understand me at all.”
“He’s doing okay. He doesn’t really understand everything that’s going on, but I think he's going to be okay.”
“He will, no matter what happens.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He has you for a sister.” His compliment makes me smile, but also makes me feel a little uneasy.
Since I've opened up to my mom about how I've been feeling I've gone in to see a therapist four times. It was hard opening up to a complete stranger, but I was finally able to do it. We're not sure exactly why I feel anxious all the time, and my therapist said my anxiety will not just go away overnight, but she said with some sessions and coping methods and possibly medication, that it will get better and I'll be able to cope with my everyday life.
So, for now, I take a deep breath and try to make Ian laugh. “You know, you do talk a wee bit funny,” I say, doing my best to imitate what I imagine the Queen of England sounds like. Ian loses it. He bursts into laughter, which makes me start laughing and then he starts wheezing as he tries to control his laughter and slow down his breathing, which makes me laugh even harder.
We’re a mess. We are completely, without a doubt a mess, but we’re a happy mess.
“Hey, Ian?”
“Mm?”
“Thanks for being my best friend.”
“Yeah,” he says, and I picture his big, lopsided grin. “You're my best friend, too.”
And, for the first time since I’ve been home, I feel completely and utterly happy like a weight has lifted. It’s a strange feeling; ever since I’d arrived in Los Angeles all I could think about was coming back home, and now that I’m here I realize that home is gone.
Home.
What a funny word. What does it even mean to be home? Is it possible that home can be more than just four walls and a roof?
Mason used to feel like home and then so did Mads, but things somehow feel different with Ian. It feels like he’s a lighthouse always redirecting me to safety. Maybe, Ian is my new home. I mull this over as our conversation slows. We refuse to hang up the phone and disconnect with each other. The ball drops and neither one of us hangs up, we just keep each other company.
My breath. His breath. My breath. His breath.
I miss Los Angeles, but it’s more than that.
LA isn’t home, and Cedar Heights doesn’t feel like home either. It’s funny, how you can live somewhere all of your life only to find it no longer feels like home.
I could never admit it to Ian, but I know it’s true. This right here—Ian being on the phone with me, not worrying that it’s almost 6 AM or that we’re not saying anything—is home.
Chapter Forty-Three
I call Ian as soon as I make it back to Cyprus Hall and finish unpacking my suitcases. He’s at Santa Monica beach, with our friends enjoying the last day of break before classes start up again. I feel giddy. It’s only been two weeks since I last saw him, but what a weird two weeks it has been.
Things feel complete
ly different somehow and yet, they don’t. Ian and I have become a lot closer these past two weeks, and he’s managed to morph from whatever he was at the beginning of the year, into my closest friend.
And, I know he feels the same way too.
I can hear it in the way he talks to me. The way he says my name and listens to me as I talk. I see it in the way he remembers all the silly and pointless anecdotes I tell him or how he’s constantly trying to make me laugh at the most outrageous things. I feel it when he doesn’t want to be the first to hang up the phone at night, or when he surprises me with an unexpected gift like he did with the elephant pin on my birthday.
The sky is overcast and a bit gloomy as I walk along the boardwalk. The carnival rides have been shut down and the local vendors selling giant turkey legs, deep-fried Twinkies and other artery-clogging junk food have closed for the season. An older couple walks hand in hand along the beach. The waves dance up to the sand and then slowly slide back towards the ocean.
I pass a group of children building sandcastles and there are even a few young men brave enough to face the water, despite the chilly January weather. Their wetsuits are on and they are paddling on their surfboards ready to face the waves; a group of girls sits on a towel ogling the boys. I look out at the waves crashing against the sand, the old couple laughing as they walk their dog in the distance and I realize I am being a coward.
Why am I dancing around the truth and giving obscure hints when I could just be saying what I feel?
It startles me when I end up right in front of the old carousel—where Ian had me make my birthday wish. The lights are shut off and the paint around the horses' faces is starting to chip. I walk around the carousel until I find the horse with the stump for a leg. On my birthday I wished for happiness . . . and I got it.
This year hasn't been easy for me, but it has been exactly what I needed. An escape. A refuge. A chance to start over—to live my life and try to not worry so much.
My mother still has cancer and things never got better with Mason—a shudder runs through me as I think good riddance. I used to think Mason was the Bee's Knee's, but now I can see that all he ever did was hold me back.
My senior year may not have happened exactly as I had planned, but I finally feel like I've learned to have courage—to be strong and not give up at the first sign of trouble.
I run my fingers over the horse's stump and sigh . . . maybe it's okay if Ian and I never become more than friends.
His friendship has strengthened me more than anyone else—he swept me from my room and showed me how to live. Ian showed me there is beauty among thorns, but you have to be willing to look for it. Before I met Ian, all I could see was how horrible things were in my life, how terribly wrong everything kept turning out, but after getting to know him and seeing the world through his eyes I was able to learn that a bad day, week or even a year doesn't mean I'm doomed to have a miserable life.
It means I might have a bad day, week or a bad year, but just like a rainbow after a thunderstorm or the yellow-brick road that leads Dorothy back home, there is hope and I can have happiness. Ian makes me happy, and I want him in my life in whatever capacity he's willing to fill.
When I reach the other side of the carousel my heart sputters in my chest. My breathing quickens and little tingles dance across my skin because Ian is here. I study him as I build up the courage to move my feet.
He's hunched over, reading an enormous book with Batman on the cover. He bites his pinkie nail, his face scrunched up in concentration. He looks completely engrossed by his book. The wind rustles through his hair and I notice it's shorter than when we talked last.
My other friends are here, too.
Liam and Calliope sit to his left. Liam is drawing vigorously in his sketchbook, while Calliope and Danielle paint their toenails. Ian's rugby ball sits on the ground between them. I take a deep breath, lift my left foot to start walking towards them and freeze.
What am I supposed to say?
We talked non-stop over the break and now that Ian’s here in person, I’m back to my usual blabbering self. He looks up from his book and glances around the beach. Our eyes lock and his face erupts into a huge smile. Ian puts his book down and calls my name. My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I force my foot down and slowly make my way towards him.
As I walk towards Ian, I realize I've been lying to myself these past few months, writing Ian off and claiming we're “just friends.” I'm not sure what to label Ian as exactly, but I do know that he's much more than just my old buddy, my old pal—I'm not sure when it happened, but something has changed between us.
Ian is the person I want to call in the middle of the night if something goes wrong. He’s the person I know I can lean on no matter what and he’ll help pull me through. He’s the person I know I can trust with my deepest darkest secrets and not have any regrets, because even after I share all the ugly that has happened in my life, I know he'll still be there beside me.
This feeling is thrilling, and a little scary, and entirely new.
I like it.
Ian jogs towards me, closing the few feet between us and pulls me into his arms. My cheeks flush, I fidget with my necklace. I’m embarrassed because I know he can feel the beating of my heart, too. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers graze my neck. My heart is now leading a marching band down a football field 180 beats per minute. He spins me around in his arms once.
“It’s good to have you back,” he says and then puts me down. “How’s your mom?”
“Better. She had another MRI two days ago and her doctor said her cancer has stopped growing, but—”
I bite my lip.
“But?”
I take a deep breath, feeling anxiety festering in my stomach. I close my eyes and then remind myself that I am in control like my doctor suggested. It sucks I can't wave a magic wand and instantly get rid of all of my problems, but being around Ian helps keep me at bay and makes it possible for me to be happy.
I open my eyes, and then say, “The doctor said it's a miracle she survived her cancer when it came back in October. Her scans lit up like crazy, but somehow she was able to pull through it and now her scans are clear again.”
“That's wonderful news!” Ian says, pulling me into his arms. I rest my head against his chest.
I look up at him, pulling away. “It is, isn't it?”
My face breaks into a gigantic smile.
He's so beautiful, so perfect.
I feel my heart pulsing rapidly in my wrist as Ian reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. It's nice holding hands, comfortable. He moves closer and my body does the same. His arm brushes against mine. He squeezes my hand tighter, willing me to look at him.
I do.
My breathing stops as I stare into his pale blue eyes. I inch my face closer to his, he mimics my response. My body tingles and the world melts away as our lips lightly brush. It feels as if everything else has faded away and nothing else exists, but Ian and I in our perfect little moment.
“Emily,” he asks, his voice is strained. “What do you want?”
I may have missed my chance before, and maybe I'm too late again, but there are no guarantees in life; If something is worth having—and, Ian is definitely worth having—then I think I need to give it a try.
Sucking in a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut and then ask, “Ian, will you be my boyfriend?”
My stomach twists anxiously when he doesn't answer right away. Is he going to reject me? I bite my lip. Why didn't I say something to him over break when Danielle told me he likes me, too?
His fingers brush against my cheek so lightly like butterfly wings. “Emily,” he says my name, softly, sweetly. “Please look at me.”
I open my eyes, cautiously.
His face is full of adoration as he stares back at me. Warmth spreads quickly across my body, my senses on fire. Ian cups my face with his hands and then plants the most delicious kiss on my lips. My
mind is reeling as he slips his tongue into my mouth, gentle, but demanding and it's nothing like I've ever felt before.
I can't breathe.
I've never been intoxicated before, but this is how I imagine it would feel. All of my senses are heightened . . . I feel alive. Ian kisses my neck, my fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer to me. He kisses me tenderly and then he slowly pulls his lips away from mine.
He kisses my nose, my eyelids, my cheeks and then his lips find mine again. I lean back against the carousel and I feel all of him press against me. This feels wonderful. He feels wonderful. I press my mouth against his harder, his stubble brushes against my cheek, but I don't care. I just want him closer. I inhale his cologne, his shampoo, everything about him smells perfect, wonderful.
I pull away this time, my senses coming back to me. Dread fills me quickly when I realize Ian never answered me. I like to believe all that kissing means yes but I need to know for sure. I clear my throat. “Ian, you didn't answer my question . . .”
The smile he gives me is dazzling. His eyes beam, the sun shines through the clouds and lights his face. He stares at me longingly. My insides wriggle and my heart pounds in my chest. He braces his hands on either side of my face and then says. “I thought you'd never ask.”
And, then he leans in and gives me the most breathtaking kiss of the century.
Chapter Forty-Four
The first Monday in February, after Ian drops me back off at my dorm, I find the Evil Queen leaning against the wall outside of my dorm. I suck in a breath and stop in my tracks. She sees my hesitation and holds her hands up in surrender.
“I didn't come here to fight.” She says, taking a step towards me. She takes a deep breath, shuddering. “I came to tell you how sorry I am about the way I acted and for what I did to you. After that first night, when I met you at the movies, I could see how easily my friends were getting along with you, how much Ian enjoyed your company and I became jealous. You were nice and smart and beautiful and I knew that Ian would fall for you and love you more than he could ever love me . . .”
The Missing Piece Page 30
