by Cassia Leo
I narrowed my eyes at him. “When did you do this?”
“I set it up last night.”
“For who?”
“For whom,” he corrected me and I punched him in the side. “Ow!”
“Answer the question.”
“For myself. I put it up every summer.”
I bit my lip as I laid my hand on his solid chest and watched my fingers move with the beat of his heart. He put his hand over mine as he leaned over and kissed my forehead.
“You make me happy,” he whispered.
“What about Olivia?” I asked, and just saying her name aloud made my stomach turn, as if saying her name suddenly made her real. “Doesn’t she make you happy?”
“She’s a good person, but she’s not you. There’s no one like you.”
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
“I feel awful now. You said she’s a good person and now I feel awful.”
“Brina, don’t do this to yourself. I’m the one who screwed up thinking I could get over you by rushing into another relationship.”
I shook my head as I stepped back. “No, I know it’s not my fault, but this doesn’t feel right anymore… knowing that she’s out there somewhere, probably sitting in the chair I used to sit in, thinking that you two are moving in together. Probably mentally arranging your furniture. No. I can’t do this. I want to go home.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Take me home.”
I took one step before he grabbed my hand. “I’m not taking you home. I’ll call her right now.”
“You cannot break up with her on the phone.”
“Well, what the fuck do you want me to do? Just tell me and I’ll do it.”
I jerked my hand away and he glared at me. “I want you to take me home. I can’t be here if you’re with someone else. Please take me home.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched and he nodded once. “Fine.”
I waited in Luke’s car as he changed into a T-shirt and jeans. The drive to my parents’ house was awkward; the air between us thick with words we both didn’t want to say or hear. When he pulled his car up to the curb in front of the house, we sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.
“I’m going to talk to her today.”
“No. Don’t do it. I’m…. I need some time to think.”
“About what?”
“About what just happened. About everything that’s happened. I mean, you were about to move in with someone and now you’re offering to dump her. What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “What do you mean? You think I’m going to dump you the second someone better comes along? You’re not just some girl. I fucking love you.” He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”
I didn’t want to tell him that the reason I couldn’t be with him in the garden and the reason I wanted him to take me home was that I couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to move in with Olivia, but he never once proposed this to me. I couldn’t say this because it was stupid. I would have rejected him, and he knew that, which is why he never asked.
I tried to conjure a response, but all I could do was imagine Luke telling Olivia he fucking loved her. I couldn’t help but imagine her with her blonde hair fanned out across his pillow and her long legs wrapped around him.
“I don’t know what to say, either.”
“Can I call you later?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I reached for the door handle and he quickly sat up straight.
“Wait. I’ll get that.”
He got out and watched me through the windshield as he rounded the front of the car. He opened the door for me and I took a deep breath before I got out.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s, like, forty feet away. I think I can make it there safely.”
He didn’t listen. He walked right beside me up the concrete path until we reached the front steps.
“How are your parents doing?” he asked, as I reached for the handle on the screen door.
“Ecstatic to have me back. I think they… they never really got used to having the house to themselves.”
“Brina, I know you think that if I made such a bad judgment call with… well, you think that I might be doing the same thing with you—rushing into something without being sure—but it’s not like that.”
“What if I had never gone to the conference yesterday? You’d be at home with Olivia and I’d be a distant memory.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“Yes, it is. And that’s okay.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched again. I let go of the door handle and reached for his face. His scruff scratched my fingers as I caressed his jaw. He grabbed my hand to hold it against him. I had to go inside now or I would never go inside.
I kissed him on the cheek and pulled my hand back. “I need to focus on getting back to work.”
He tilted his head and I thought I knew what this small gesture meant, but I didn’t want to believe he would think it. He certainly knew better than to say it aloud.
“Goodbye, Luke.”
I hurried inside before I could change my mind and get even deeper into something that would certainly leave me devastated and broken-hearted. As I shut the door, I found my parents peeking through the blinds out the front window.
“Who is that gorgeous man?” my mother asked and my father laid a soft tap on her arm. “Is that…? Was that Luke Maxwell?”
“It was,” I replied, as I made my way to the kitchen. “Do you guys have any vodka?”
“It’s not even noon. Did that boy just break your heart?” my father asked, as he followed me into the kitchen.
“He’s not a boy,” I said, as I pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. “And he didn’t break my heart.” At least, not intentionally.
I poured myself a glass of juice and gulped it down as I considered calling Jill, but I didn’t want to interrupt her work with my boy problems.
“You look like you just had your heart broken,” my father said, as he pulled me into his arms.
As if the hug was the key to the floodgates, the tears came instantly. I buried my face in his shoulder as he stroked my hair.
“Don’t feel so bad, pumpkin. The guy can’t make a phone that doesn’t require a Ph.D. to operate. He’s obviously not smart enough to handle you.”
I laughed as I recalled the day I got my dad a Maxwell Flame phone. He spent three hours trying to figure out how to make a video call before he finally gave up and told me to take the phone back.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating Luke Maxwell?” my mother asked, as she grabbed the glass of orange juice out of my hand, probably afraid I’d spill it while hugging my dad.
“Because I’m not dating him.” My dad let go and I took the glass of juice back from my mom. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m going to take a nap. Please wake me up if Jill calls the house phone.”
I kissed her on the cheek before I dashed up the stairs to my room. I set the juice down on my nightstand and slid my phone out of my pocket as I collapsed onto my bed. I dialed the number and my heart raced as I anticipated the answer.
“What happened?” was the greeting I got from Milo.
“I had to leave. My dad picked me up.”
Why was I lying to him?
“Brina, I was at the gym downstairs. I saw him pick you up.”
Shit!
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you would react. We just went for coffee to talk. He had something he needed to get off his chest.”
The line was silent for a moment. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. Shit, I’m the one who tried to get you two back together just yesterday. I’m not going to pretend I like it. I think you’re making a huge mistake. But I’m not going go psycho possessive on you.”
&n
bsp; I slid under my comforter and pulled it up to my chin to block the draft of air-conditioned air pointing straight at my face. My father blasted the air-conditioner during the summer to the point that Ryan and I once dressed up in ski suits and huddled around a small stockpot fire in the living room in a vain attempt to convince him to turn up the temperature on the thermostat.
“I’m just really confused right now and I don’t want to bring you into this,” I said.
I tried to imagine where he was: in his living room playing video games, bouncing on his exercise ball, getting ready to take a shower and wash his enormous…. Oh, God. I would never look at Milo the same after last night.
“Hey, what are you wearing?”
Oh, no. He wants phone sex.
“This is really gross, but I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. I haven’t changed yet. And I just climbed into bed to take a nap.”
“Did I tire you out?”
“You abused me.”
The sound of his laughter through the phone made my ear tickle and a tingling sensation lit up inside my belly.
“I tried to go easy on you.”
“You didn’t hurt me, but you did… surprise me.”
“You didn’t think poor little Milo had it in him?”
“Now you’re referring to yourself in third person?”
“I guess you’re weirdness is rubbing off on me.”
“I’m weird? You’re the one who likes to have sex on exercise balls.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”
Suddenly, my smile disappeared as I begun to make a mental list of Milo’s pros and cons. Milo was a good guy. He could also be a huge jerk at times, but I was fairly certain it was the stress of the job at NeoSys that brought out the worst in him—as it had done to me. He was handsome, financially independent, and, apparently, very serious about staying fit.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, breaking through the silence of my thoughts.
“I’m thinking I need to take a nap. I’ll talk to you later, Milo.”
“Sweet dreams, Batgirl.”
I lay in my bed staring at the collection of picture frames on the wall above my dresser. A pink oval frame kept drawing my eye. The picture was of Ryan, Jimmy Nichols (my ex who taught me the significance of hand-holding), and me. We were sitting on the sofa in Jesse Niven’s living room. Jimmy and I were holding hands, of course, and Ryan was flashing Jesse the cameraman his middle finger.
Before I could stop myself, I leaped out of bed and slid my feet into a pair of sneakers. I grabbed my headphones off the dresser and plugged them into my phone as I flew down the stairs.
I didn’t need directions to my destination. I had driven past it a million times, though I never actually stopped. This time I didn’t drive. I needed time to think before I arrived.
My feet carried me through the suburbs toward University Street. The music booming through my headphones filled me with resolve until I reached the University Street station. I boarded the first bus to Mountlake Terrace and settled myself in for a long bus ride. By the time I stepped off the bus, the sun was going down, casting brilliant rays of orange-crème light across the sky. I walked the half-mile to Washelli Cemetery with my music turned off as I mentally prepared myself to visit my brother’s grave for the first time.
I reached the main entrance on Aurora Avenue and my feet dragged across the pavement as I entered. My mother told me Ryan was buried near the Chimes Tower, just past the canons. I could glimpse the top of the tower as I walked along the curved path. It would be faster to cut across the lawn straight to the tower, but there was something about walking where the dead lay that made me deeply uneasy.
The closer the tower got the more the knots in my stomach tightened. I had a few panic attacks after Ryan’s death; one of those happened on the only occasion I attempted to visit his grave. I got as far as the front gate that time. Today, I was going to push through the twisting ache, the unfathomable grief.
By the time I reached the tower, what little breath I had left in my lungs was emptied by the sight of the tower. The setting sun illuminated the warm stained glass panes that spanned the entire height of the tower, lighting it up like an enormous, fiery paper lantern. I took a deep breath and pressed on to begin my search.
Every name on every marker sounded like the name of someone I had once known. I imagined each one of them and what they might have looked like. Someone left a happy birthday balloon tied to a card on Joseph Finley’s grave. I didn’t know who Joseph Finley was or how Joseph died, but I knew a little bit about how he lived because someone out there still loved him.
I must have walked down forty or fifty rows before I finally found it. And I didn’t have to make a mental list of suspects in my mind to know who had left a single red rose on my brother’s grave.
I fell to my knees as the blood rushed away from my limbs toward my shattered heart. The letters on the headstone blurred before me and I was grateful to be blinded by the grief. I didn’t want to see Ryan Kingston – Washington – U.S. Marines – June 18, 1989 – November 6, 2011 – Purple Heart – Operation Enduring Freedom.
I lifted the rose and clutched it against my chest as I curled into myself. The guilt that had absorbed me for eight months loosened its grip and I took a deep breath. I breathed in the scent of the rose and the grass. I breathed in the earthy scent of the sunbaked stone marker. Then I listened. I listened to the breeze rustling through the giant elm tree nearby. I listened to the sound of footsteps crunching through the grass. I listened to the voice in my head—Ryan’s voice—telling me to get off my knees and get on with my life.
6: Luke
I had never seen anything more beautiful and more tragic in my life. Brina bowed before her brother’s headstone, her face hidden beneath a curtain of brown hair as she clutched the rose I had placed on his grave. Her body quaked as she sobbed into the earth. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I didn’t want to intrude.
I stepped out from behind the elm tree, where I had hid the moment I saw her walking up the path. I waited. If she looked up at that moment I would go to her.
She didn’t look up so I made a beeline for the curved concrete path. I walked quickly, trying not to glance at the many names of fallen heroes on either side of me.
“Luke?”
I whipped my head around and my heart jumped. She was still on her knees, but she was looking over her shoulder straight at me. I hurried back down the path until I reached her row then made my way to her.
Her nose and cheeks were damp and screaming red, but she was more beautiful than the day she walked into my office six weeks ago. I knelt next to her and took her into my arms.
“I knew it was you,” she whispered, as she wept into my neck.
I kissed the top of her head and breathed the scent of her shampoo. She wrapped her arms around my waist and, for the first time in six weeks, I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.
She pulled back and wiped at her face. I took her fragile face in my hands and brushed away the tears with my thumb. Her face screwed up as if she were trying to keep herself from crumbling.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I whispered, “but I hoped you would.”
She smiled at this confession. “You know me well.”
I didn’t believe in fate, but I did believe that something had broken inside her today when she left my house. The walls protecting her from the honest introspection she so desperately needed to get past her brother’s death were collapsing. That was why I let her go. I knew that if I allowed her to be strong rather than trying to give her strength, she might finally forgive herself and maybe then she could forgive me.
“I want to get to know you better,” I said, as I kissed her forehead. “I think we need to take a timeout; slow things down.”
She heaved a deep sigh. “You want to be friends?”
“For a little while. I already broke up with Olivia, but I don�
�t want to rush into anything with you. Because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and I don’t want to screw this up again.”
Her lips curled into a tiny smile, more than I expected at a moment like this. “There’s nothing in this world I would like more than being your friend.”
I held my hand out to her and she stared at it. “One month. If we can be friends, real friends, no ripping each other’s clothes off, for a full month then I don’t think there’s anything we can’t face. Deal?”
She gazed at my hand as she thought about this proposition then she slowly reached for my hand and shook it. “Deal.”
PART FIVE: TIMEOUT
1: BRINA
I pulled up to the gate at Luke Maxwell’s multi-million dollar cozy bungalow on the water and glared at the touchscreen, which was mounted on a steel post. I laid my palm flat on the screen over the nifty outline of a hand. The screen flashed green.
“Brina Kingston. Identity confirmed.”
The gate swung open and I shook my head as Luke’s geeky side was becoming more apparent. I had never actually come to his house in my own car so this gate routine was new. I pulled my car into the curved driveway behind his Bugatti and glanced at the empty coffee cup in my cup holder and stack of unemployment insurance paperwork on the passenger seat. Luke and I lived in two different worlds, which was exactly why I was here—to bridge the gap.
I hadn’t left my parents’ house for four days--I’d been holed up in my bedroom ever since I visited my brother’s grave—but Luke insisted we were going to do something fun today. I only agreed to come if he allowed me to drive my car to his house instead of letting him pick me up as if we were going on some kind of date. We were not supposed to be dating.
My sneakers tapped the pavement as I approached the glass front door. The glare from the late-morning sun made it impossible to see through the smoky glass into the house. I rang the doorbell and tried to listen for the sound of the bell, but the door was sealed too well. I heard nothing. A moment later, the door swung inward and Luke stood before me wearing a smile that could melt glass. His eyes slid up and down my body, taking in my sneakers, jeans, and the Redskins jersey I wore over my tank top.
