Either way, I showed up with my parents in tow. I’d barely had enough time to set my things down in the coat closet before being accosted by Harper and pulled away into the far corner of the backyard where the old swing set once stood.
Between her talking my ear off, and Mrs. Neely rushing back and forth between the backyard and the house, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
I should have.
Contentment, you see . . . it causes blindness.
Later I would find out that Sheila let Colton make the decision to have all of us there for his big news. Unlike when he got the job at the museum and I found out through her, it had been arranged for her son to announce it himself. To everyone.
It was brand new. Less than twenty-four hours old.
The news that would rip a hole in my chest wide open and cause my entire life to fold in around me like a half-assed house of cards.
He looked so pleased. And why not? It was quite an accomplishment, really. I couldn’t argue. And he spoke directly to me when he said it out loud for the first time. Sheila gathered us around as she prompted Colton to speak. Her smile was so electric. She was proud. Beaming at how far he’d come. She stood by my side and squeezed my shoulders.
“He asked to tell everyone at once.”
His father stood off with my parents, practically bursting with joy. My mom and dad were probably as confused as I was. And even though I was standing in a crowd of people I trusted and loved, I had never felt more alone than in that moment.
Colton, so happy and proud; smiling wide and eyes downcast for a moment before lifting, simply said it as best as he could.
“I’ve been offered an internship in England through the museum.”
My heart died.
Fell right out of my chest and onto the bright green grass beneath my feet as I stared at him, muted by shock.
“I’ll be boarding a plane to leave the country on August thirteenth at nine p.m.” Another smile. Joyous applause and congratulations from the crowd of onlookers.
Except from me.
Except from me and my parents. Maybe Harper, too. I don’t quite remember because the haze was too thick. The memory, while not that old, is hard to pinpoint because it’s surreal, you know?
“The junior curator will accompany him. He’ll be well taken care of.” Sheila said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and my heart wasn’t breaking right beside her.
I dropped my cup at my feet; sticky liquid hitting my exposed toes. And I think that’s when people started to get quiet.
“What about school?” My hands, they were shaking so badly, but I couldn’t make them stop. We’d talked about this. I wasn’t going far. We’d talked about transferring to the same college eventually. We’d talked about the future . . .
He looked at me with that expression that killed me on the inside. So honest. Pure. “I’ll be tutored abroad.”
It was then I lost all semblance of control, my head falling to my chest as I started to cry so hard I couldn’t see. “You’re leaving me?” Hands were on me. Comforting. My parents. Perhaps even Harper, but I wasn’t sure because I didn’t let it last too long.
Instead, I pushed by all of them, not even offering a final word to Colton as I ran through the backyard and into the house to escape out the front door.
I knew then. It was all over. There would be no way to be with Colton if we weren’t actually together. The reality of how much our relationship depended on physical contact and constant close proximity crashed down on me like a ton of bricks as I stumbled down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. We had plans to go to school near each other so it wouldn’t be an issue. We’d made plans.
I needed the time to think. To clear my mind. I could hear the voices of our respective mothers calling out for me. I could hear my father’s voice above both of theirs. I knew the sound of the footsteps chasing after me were Harper’s.
But they weren’t the person I wanted to follow me across the street.
I wanted Colton.
And as of that moment, he was no longer mine. In just a few weeks’ time, he would be in another country. Thriving, doing what he wanted to do more than anything else in his life.
Maybe our relationship had given him that confidence. He was going to go intern and paint in England. He would live this incredible life his parents had always dreamed of for him. He was going to be okay with this change to his routine because it involved his passion. His first love.
And I would be no one.
Just a girl with half her heart missing.
On some level, it was selfish of me to have left. But I couldn’t see my actions beyond my tears. I walked until Harper pulled up in her car and demanded that I get in so that she could take me home. I packed my bags, left a note for my parents, and went to stay with her for the remainder of the weekend.
Harper raged. She hated Sheila. I should have been told aside from everyone else so I could properly respond. It was his mom’s fault. But I knew better. Sure, she could see me as a girl in a relationship, but when it came down to it, she was a proud mother. And I had no idea if I would have responded in any other way if told one-on-one.
It didn’t take the sting out of my reality, though.
I ended up sending Colton an email congratulating him on his opportunity. There was no way I could bring myself to talk with him. It was too painful to think he might have had a clue something was wrong, but not really . . . and the resulting conversations would be me lying the entire time to let him be happy-go-lucky about his future without me. I was selfish enough not to answer his because I couldn’t bear to see what he would say.
My parents attempted to talk to me, but for once, I asked just to be left alone. And I guess they weren’t used to that, so they did as I requested. There were a lot of phone calls involving yelling on my mother’s end. I had to assume it was Sheila she was talking so harshly to. But I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
I hadn’t gone into a relationship with Colton to become dependent. I hadn’t thought by integrating myself so thoroughly in his life, it would have resulted in me revolving my entire existence around him.
Such is first love, I suppose.
Everyone was worried. But I wasn’t. I didn’t care. If I could have faded into the walls, I would have.
A couple weeks before my birthday, my mom made me go see our family doctor. I didn’t fight, even though I knew nothing was physically wrong with me. I was about to turn nineteen and instead of celebrating with my boyfriend; I had a tongue depressor in my mouth. My doctor’s really cool and she ended up sitting down with me, asking what was going on. And when I described what had happened, in as little detail as possible, she looked sympathetic.
Not sympathetic enough to give me a Valium or anything . . .
When I pulled up to my house and saw Sheila Neely’s car outside, it made my insides nosedive straight through my floorboard.
It’s funny how many scenarios went through my mind. One where I marched into the house and demanded she make Colton stay. One where I just drove and drove and drove until I ran out of gas and had to find a job waiting tables somewhere, like a character in a Nicholas Sparks book. One where I rammed my car through the front door and aimed straight for her kneecaps.
I guess I had some pent up aggression toward her I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until that moment.
But it seemed as good a time as any to get it off my chest. With more courage than I thought I possessed, I opened the front door to my house and what I saw in the living room shocked the hell out of me.
Sheila . . . face to face with my parents . . . holding a wrapped gift that was almost as tall as she was.
There was only one thing it could have been. Judging by the tears on her face and expressions on my parents’, I knew Colton had painted me a gift.
And I knew he wasn’t doing well. At all.
“What’s going on?” I’d asked, suddenly hurting not just for me, but fo
r the boy who had sent the gift.
“Colton wanted me to bring your gift over for your birthday. Since he will miss it.”
My eyes barely met hers while I stared at the festive paper. “Why isn’t he here to bring it?”
“He couldn’t . . .” Her voice cracked and I just knew . . . he understood. He got it. The limited contact with me was wearing on him just as much.
I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to tell her all of the heartache could have been avoided, if things had just been handled differently. But I was as much to blame as she was, because I allowed my own feelings of self-pity to override what I knew Colton needed of me. He needed me to be supportive. He needed me to say congratulations and . . . just . . . shit, ya know?
I nodded and stepped forward, noting how my parents shifted protectively as I did.
“Do you mind if I talk to Lilly alone?” Sheila was breaking my heart with how genuine she sounded. But I knew what she and I had to discuss shouldn’t have been overheard by my parents. I let them know it was fine and took a seat on the opposite couch, facing her as she settled back down, almost deflating right before my eyes.
“Do you not care about me?” It slipped out faster than I could stop it.
Her eyes got all big and she shook her head. “No. God, no. I can’t believe you would think . . .”
“Then why didn’t Colton tell me he was leaving? Or you, for that matter?”
Sheila held her breath for a moment before speaking. “In hind-sight, that is exactly what should have happened. We had no idea the internship even existed because . . . it didn’t until he started there. They developed it specifically for him, and so as not to give false hope and take it away if it didn’t pan out, they didn’t mention it until it was final. Clearly, I would have liked to have known about it earlier, but I can’t turn back the clock and do all of these things over again. I asked if he was going to tell you first. He was so proud, Lilly. He wanted it to be an announcement. He wanted you to be there along with everyone else. And you know once he has his mind set on something, it takes a crowbar to change it.” Her brow furrowed. “When you showed back up in our lives at that craft fair, I was worried it would upset him. But after just a few minutes with you, he was calmer. He seemed so, at least.”
“You didn’t see me there.” It was hard for me to believe what she was saying.
She laughed then. “I’m a mom. I see everything.”
That was disturbing.
“I told you that I thought he had forgotten about you, even though I knew it would be virtually impossible for him to. From then on, he talked about you. Drew you. Painted you. I have an attic full of renderings of your face . . .” Her eyes went wide with panic. “I didn’t want to upset you, so I never brought them down. But you were like the one point of light in a tunnel he could see so clearly. I guess, what I meant to say is, you’ve always been in his life. I’m shallow enough to have thought you always would be. Even after a year’s worth of separation.” There was a little smile of defeat. “You’ve been apart longer than that before. You’re going away to college. It never occurred to me the distance would be an issue.”
I saw her then. The real her. She was just human. Flawed. Sheila Neely was not a Super Parent. She was trying her hardest just like everyone else in the world. I’d put her up on such a pedestal that it was difficult to wrap my brain around the truth.
Searching for words wasn’t easy. It took me a few minutes to get a steady train of thought before I could speak. “Has he been freaking out?” She nodded. “Breaking stuff. All of that?” Again with the nod. “I love him, you know. And not in a puppy love or teenage love sort of way. I know what it’s like to be with someone because it’s easy.” I let that sentence sit for a moment. “Being with Colton is not easy. It’s hard. It’s work. But if I think about my life before him, and my life with him . . . the struggle and work is worth all of it.”
She started to cry then. Like, really, really cry. But I couldn’t comfort her.
“I promise that love isn’t easy for anyone. Anywhere.”
“You’re right. But if I had to choose between having what dumb people would refer to as a normal life and having a life with Colton, I would choose your son every single time.” Without another word, I stood up and pulled the painting over to my feet, unwrapped it carefully, and let the paper fall away. “I would have boarded that plane with him, if given the chance. Spent my first year of college traveling and being there. I would have done all of it. If I had been given the chance.”
Her silence was only punctuated by small sobs.
But I barely heard them.
Because I was staring at a painting of Colton. And he was staring back at me. His body situated in a way to convey sadness. His face solemn.
There, rounded in each corner, the colors overlapped his brush strokes that bore the words I Love You over and over and over . . . creating the backdrop of his heartbreak. And mine.
“Is he home?” I asked as I moved my feet, tripping over my shoelaces in my own haste.
“Yes.”
She owed me time with him before he left. And she knew it. I watched her search for her keys in her pocket, but by the time she had them out for me, I was already at the door.
I didn’t need them.
I had my own way in.
I was worried about how he would react to me climbing through his window again after the weeks we’d had apart. One piece of me wondered if I would walk in on one of his meltdowns. Another piece wondered if he would be fine and Sheila had simply exaggerated to get me there.
On the way to his house, I called Harper and the conversation pretty much went like this.
“His mom came over . . .”
“I hate her.”
“She didn’t mean for it to happen. She asked him to tell me first.”
“Hmm. Fine. I reserve the right to revisit my hatred at a later time.”
“He painted me a picture of himself. It has I Love You written all over it.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. I’m headed there now.”
“Call me later.”
I didn’t even bother to park my car around the other side of the neighborhood. The sky was getting a little darker and I knew Mr. Neely worked mad, crazy hours. And even though I could have knocked on the door, I felt like I needed to climb up that lattice one last time.
I did, with my heart thundering in my ears and my hands shaking from the anxiety I was drowning in. But once I checked the latch and realized the window was still unlocked, tears filled my eyes and I had to take a breath before actually climbing through.
I wondered if he left it unlocked the entire time without thinking about it . . . or if he checked it every night to see if it was still unlocked, just in case I came over.
Either way . . . it made me feel awful.
I stumbled into the room blindly, hoping to God once more that I wouldn’t break anything as I attempted to untangle my feet from the windowsill. When I righted myself, I realized the art room was pretty much vacant. Everything was put away. It felt wrong. Weird. I’d never seen it like that before.
Of course, Colton hadn’t left me before, either.
After bracing myself for a moment, I walked slowly to the door and looked down the hallway toward his room, noting the soft tinkling of music filtering into the open space. I watched the lighting in his room shift, his shadow appearing and disappearing with his footsteps.
Back and forth.
Preparing to leave.
Or was he pacing?
No longer worried about my timing, I crept to his open door and stood there, watching him as he moved a foot and then back, his eyes downcast as his hands started to reach for something and then would stop and he would repeat the movement over and over again. He appeared to be so very frustrated.
I knocked gently on his wall, holding my breath as he turned abruptly and stared at my face. Just stared. No words.
“Hi,” I called to him
quietly.
His reaction surprised me. In the blink of an eye he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing me to the wall and burying his face in my neck as he breathed in deeply and squeezed all the air from my lungs.
“Nothing works,” he started, his hands kneading my sides as he tried again. “I try. And try. But nothing works. I can’t focus. I can’t . . . I can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” I had to stop myself. “I apologize for not coming to see you sooner.”
“You were upset. I hurt you. Something must have happened to make you stay away from me. Is that right?” His nose was pressed under my ear and I fought back another round of tears because he just didn’t fully grasp it. He could have been repeating Sheila’s words for all I knew.
“You’re leaving.”
His body went rigid, and slowly he pulled back from me to look down at his shoes. “You’d like it better if I stayed?”
“No!” It was a lie. But it wasn’t. “This is . . . such . . . a great opportunity for you. You should go.” His eyes met mine briefly. “But I’m going to miss you so very much while you’re gone.”
He nodded a little.
“Your mom delivered my birthday present. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”
A sad smile pressed his mouth upward. “I wanted you to have me with you.”
The pain in my heart grew a thousand times over. “I know.” My hand pressed to his cheek. “It was very thoughtful. Just like the words you painted . . .”
It was then his eyes met mine. I’m still not sure what he saw at that moment, but it felt like he was looking beyond my face and into my soul.
“I paint the truth, Lilly.”
My heart stopped.
“I do . . . love you. If you needed me to say it before you should have told me so. I know what it means.” The way he said it was like the words were forcing themselves from his mouth almost painfully, his face contorting as they left his lips and his eyebrows drew together. “This emptiness inside of me here,” he placed my hand on his chest, “means I love you. When you’re not here, I can’t focus. It’s too loud . . . But my heartbeat does this when you’re close.”
Puddle Jumping Page 11
