The Road to You

by Melissa Toppen

  “I think I miss his smile more than anything else right now. The way it would light up a room. The way it would make my heart pound so hard in my chest I was convinced the whole world could hear it crashing against my ribcage. I fell so hard and so fast I didn’t have time to talk myself out of it. I didn’t have time to rationalize or second guess. I wanted him and that was all I could see… Him.”

  “And now I’ve lost him too.” I blow out a slow breath. “He says it’s because I need time. Time to heal. Time to move on. Time to let you go. Only I don’t know how to let you go, Kam. Hell, I’m not even sure I want to. I just need you to tell me what to do. Tell me how I fix this. Tell me how I get him back. Because I can’t live without him, Kam, and honestly, I don’t want to.”

  I close my eyes again, imagining Kam sitting next to me. I feel his hand close down over mine; feel the warmth of his body as he settles in next to me. I can even hear his words as if he were actually speaking.

  “You already know what to do, bean.”

  “But I don’t,” I argue.

  “Yes you do. You need to face what happened to me, to us.”

  “I have faced it. I’ve been facing it every day that you’ve been gone.”

  “No you haven’t, bean. You’ve been burying it. Telling Kane was a start. It means you’re ready. But you’re still holding back. Why are you so afraid to let me go?”

  “You know why,” I say, remembering the last time I spoke those words to him. It was the day of the accident, when he pushed me to tell him why I was so upset over his date. God I remember that day so clearly and yet it’s all blurred together at the same time.

  “I do know why. But do you?” I hear him say.

  “What if something happens to him?”

  “You mean what if you cause something to happen to him,” he corrects.

  “You always could read me better than anyone else.”

  I open my eyes and suddenly he’s there, staring back at me with those hazel eyes, the blue and green specks catching the sunlight just right making them almost sparkle.

  “There she is.” He smiles.

  “Kam.” I choke back a sob, knowing he’s not really here but wanting so desperately to believe the lie my mind is telling me.

  “You didn’t do this, bean. You can’t spend the rest of your life focused on what might happen. You don’t have that kind of control, no matter how much you wish you did. All you can do is love with everything that you have while you have the chance to do it. I died and you’re going to have to find a way to forgive yourself for that. If not for you, then do it for me, bean. Do it for Kane.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” I sniff.

  “It’s only as difficult as you make it.”

  “I don’t want to let you go, Kam. I don’t want to purge you from my life and forget about you. I want you with me, always.”

  “And I will be.”

  “No you won’t,” I accuse, trying to hold onto the image of him that’s starting to blur in front of me.

  “Yes I will, bean. I will always be with you. Letting me go doesn’t mean forgetting me. It means forgiving yourself. Don’t bury me. Don’t pretend like I didn’t exist. Learn to live with what happened and find a way to be okay.”

  “Don’t bury you,” I say slowly, turning my eyes forward.

  I suddenly realize that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do. I’ve been trying to bury his memory to ease my own guilt.

  I ran away from North Carolina. I packed everything I had of his including his camera and his old Dodgers hat in a box and sealed it up tight so I wouldn’t have to look at it every day. So I wouldn’t have to face what I lost every single day.

  “Your camera,” I blurt, but when I look back to where Kam was sitting next to me just moments earlier, there’s no one there. “Kam?” I look around, willing my mind to bring him back. “Kam?” I close my eyes hard, pleading, but when I open them I’m met with the truth I haven’t wanted to see since the accident.

  Kam is gone and no matter how hard I wish and pray, he’s not coming back.

  I let the weight of that settle around me. Let myself feel it all the way into my bones. Let it seep through every pore until I have no choice but to face it.

  “Don’t bury me,” I repeat his words, reaching out to lay my hand on the front of his headstone just as a hard wind whips around me.

  I know it’s probably wishful thinking but for some reason I feel meaning behind the wind. Like Kam really is here, telling me what to do, guiding me, and for the first time since he died, I close my eyes and let myself listen.

  And suddenly it all becomes clear.

  “I know what I have to do,” I whisper. “I know what to do,” I repeat, quickly shuffling to my feet.

  “I’ve tried to forget. For months I’ve tried to forget what happened,” I say, my face tilted down to his grave. “But you’re right. I can’t forget you. And I don’t want to. I want to remember you. Every single thing about you. Because you were my best friend, Kamden Joseph Thaler. You were everything to me and you deserve so much more than to be stuffed into a box and forgotten. I know what I have to do now. I have to find a way to keep you alive forever; at least in my own way.”

  I smile down at him just as a tear slides down my cheek.

  “Thank you, Kam.” I kiss my fingers and lay them across the top of the cool stone. “Thank you.” And with that I turn and take off through the cemetery. For the first time in a long time, I feel some of the weight I’ve carried with me for months start to lift.

  Three months later…

  “Elara. Are you about ready?” Carol calls up the staircase that leads to my apartment over the garage.

  “Yeah. Almost,” I holler back, shoving papers in my bag, while praying to god I don’t forget anything.

  “Well come on already. You’re going to miss your flight.” I can hear her foot tap against one of the wooden steps.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming,” I say, snagging the Dodgers hat off my dresser before slipping it on my head.

  Quickly pulling my ponytail through the back loop, I slide my duffel bag over my shoulder and exit my room, meeting Carol at the bottom of the stairs just moments later.

  “You’ve got your ticket?” she asks.

  “Yep.” I nod, pulling it from my back pocket.

  “And your pitch?”

  “Folders are organized and ready to go.” I tap the side pouch of my duffel.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” she practically squeals in excitement.

  “Me either,” I admit, my eagerness and excitement a welcome emotion after the year I’ve had.

  It’s January now. A new year. A new chance to start fresh and leave the ghosts of the past behind me. Well, not all the ghosts.

  I’ve spent the last three months cleansing myself of everything I’ve lost. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve experienced days where I could barely get myself out of bed. But I pushed through and I completed what I set out to do.

  After leaving the cemetery that day–after talking to Kam– everything became crystal clear. I went straight home, dug all of his belongings out of that box, and then I spent the next four hours staring at it before I finally got the courage to look at the pictures on his camera.

  It wasn’t easy. Hell, at one point I was crying so hard I felt like I’d never stop. But like everything else, I got through it and I came out on the other end better because of it.

  Later that night, I opened my laptop and started writing. It didn’t start out as anything other than words on paper at first, but as the days went on it started to become something so much more.

  A story. A manuscript actually. One that told the story of a hazel eyed boy who stole my heart at fifteen. I didn’t leave a thing out. I wrote moments I remember so clearly it was like they were happening in front of me as my fingers worked against the keyboard. I wrote the good, the bad, and the downright painful. I left no stone unturned. But the
n my story about my sweet hazel eyed boy started to take on a new meaning. Because it didn’t just belong to him anymore.

  So I kept writing. I wrote about Kane, about our time in Italy, about the baby we lost. And by the time I was done, by the time I was holding a full completed manuscript in my hand, it was no longer a story about loss. It was a story about love.

  Kane did that for me. He gave me love in a story that was meant to be nothing more than heartbreak. Thinking about him was almost as hard as thinking about Kam but it did get easier. The further I got into the story the more I felt a renewed sense of hope that we would indeed find our way back to each other. Our road to this point hasn’t been an easy one, but it was worth every single bump along the way. I’d do it all over again if I knew he would be waiting for me at the end.

  I titled the manuscript The Road to You.

  It took me five weeks to finish. I wrote nearly every waking moment for those five weeks and the night I finished was probably one of the most emotional nights of my life. But when I woke the next day I knew there was no way I could keep this story to myself. So, I started doing research and ended up sending my manuscript out to over twenty different agencies.

  It was less than a month before I had two different companies interested in buying the rights. Less than four weeks. I couldn’t believe it. And now here I am, getting ready to board a plane to Los Angeles to meet face to face with one of the biggest production companies in the industry.

  It doesn’t seem real. I’ve been pinching myself for the last couple of days since I got the call. Six months ago I thought my life was over. Now here I am, on an exciting new journey I never thought I’d ever get the chance to experience. And there are only two people I can thank for it.

  “Now don’t forget to call me the minute you land.” Carol pulls me back into the conversation as I drop my bag in the backseat and climb into the driver’s seat of my car.

  “I won’t forget,” I promise.

  “I really wish you would let me drive you,” she says, leaning down into the open window.

  “I’ll be gone two days. I’d rather leave my car at the airport so you don’t have to worry about picking me up.”

  “But I’d be happy to pick you up,” she objects.

  “I know. But I also know you’re understaffed at the salon and business is picking back up. I’ll be fine,” I quickly add.

  “I know you will.” She smiles down at me, her face so much like my mother’s it causes my eyes to well. “I’m so proud of you, Elara. You had a choice. To either let life beat you down or refuse to let it take you under. You’ve been through so much and for you to be able to turn it into something like you have– it’s incredible. I just wish your mother could be here to see the amazing woman she raised.”

  “Me too.” I force a smile.

  “God, I’m sorry. Here I am getting all emotional on you when you need to be focused for your meeting.” She makes a noise in the back of her throat and swipes at her eyes just as a tear falls from each one. “Knock ‘em dead, sweetie.”

  “I will,” I promise, firing the engine to life.

  “I love you.”

  “Love you.” I offer one last wave before backing out of the driveway.

  ****

  “You did it?” Carol screams into the phone so loudly I have to pull the device away from my ear.

  “I did it,” I confirm, still not able to believe it myself.

  Today I signed over the rights to The Road to You and while it was impossible to let it go, it also felt so liberating at the same time. Walking out of that office, knowing what I had accomplished, there’s no way to describe that feeling. And yet it was surrounded by an air of sadness because the one person I wanted so desperately to share it with wasn’t there.

  I thought about calling him, several times in fact, but I made him a promise that day in the hospital and I had every intention of keeping it. He was right after all. We did need time. I was just too focused on being with him to see it in that moment. And while being away from him hasn’t been easy, I know now it’s what I needed.

  “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” I can picture Carol jumping up and down. “Did you call your dad?”

  “Yep. I just got off the phone with him. He and Lynette are already planning on coming to town so we can all go out and celebrate.”

  “This is so incredible. I can’t believe you did it. You actually did it, Elara. Do you feel different?”

  “I feel like I’m in a bit of a dream state,” I admit.

  “I can imagine. I feel like I’m dreaming.” Carol laughs and I can’t help but smile at how excited she is for me.

  She’s been by my side through a lot. I’m so grateful I have her to share this with.

  “And if your father thinks I’m waiting on him to take you out celebrating he’s nuts,” she quickly adds.

  “We can just keep that to ourselves.” I chuckle before quickly adding, “Listen, I’m at the airport so I’m going to let you go. I’ll see you at the house later?”

  “Sounds good, honey. Be safe and shoot me a text when you land.”

  “Will do.”

  We quickly say our goodbyes and I end the call before pushing my way inside the airport. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I find myself pausing to look up at the flight schedule, freezing the instant I see a flight to Chicago leaving in less than two hours.

  One minute I’m standing there staring at a screen flashing with cities and times, the next I’m at the counter purchasing a one way ticket to Chicago.

  I don’t think I fully processed what the hell it is I’m doing until I’m boarding the plane just over an hour later when the panic starts setting in.

  Kane told me I had to come to him. He told me I had to be ready. He made me promise.

  I am ready.

  I think I’ve been ready for weeks but have been too scared to take the leap. Afraid that maybe he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want me anymore.

  I push those doubts aside and quickly take my seat, knowing there is only one way to find out. I just have to jump and pray to God he’ll be waiting to catch me when I reach the bottom.

  ****

  I text Carol and my dad on the way to Kane’s apartment and then silence my phone and slip it into my bag. I can’t answer all the questions I’m sure they’ll have, because honestly, I don’t have the brain power right now.

  The past two days have been an absolute whirlwind and now, knowing I’m here, minutes away from seeing Kane again has every inch of my body wound so tight I can physically feel the tension in my back as the cab slows to a stop on the curb outside of Kane’s apartment building.

  I look up at the building and then to the middle aged driver, feeling almost frozen in place.

  “You okay, honey?” the driver asks, catching my gaze in the rear view mirror.

  “Define okay?” I force a smile, reaching into my bag for my wallet before slipping him some cash. “Thank you,” I quickly add before sliding out of the backseat.

  Grabbing my bag, I hitch it onto my shoulder and stand on the sidewalk for another long moment, trying to gather the courage to enter the building. I’m seconds away from chickening out when I hear my name. The instant recognition of the voice washes over me like a bucket of ice water as I turn and meet the gaze of the man I’ve dreamed about seeing again for weeks.

  “Elara,” he repeats when I make no attempt to respond, my jaw slack, my feet rooted to the ground beneath me.

  “Hi,” I say after what feels like an eternity.

  My eyes dart from his face, which is even more handsome than I remember, to his messy hair, to his blue t-shirt and dark jeans, to the grocery bags hanging from his hands.

  “I’m sorry, I should have called,” I start, realizing maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he cuts me off before I can say more. “You want to come inside?” He gestures to the building in front of us.

  “Yeah, su
re.” I force a smile, taking a deep breath when he passes in front of me, his scent intoxicating all of my senses.

  I follow him into the building, my stomach a mass of nerves, my hands trembling so bad you would think there was something medically wrong with me, and my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I swear I can hear it echo through the long hallway as he leads us to his apartment door.

  He shifts the bags to one hand to dig his keys out of his front pocket before unlocking the door and letting us inside. If I thought my heart was beating fast before I was wrong because the minute the door closes behind us it starts hammering so rapidly it feels like it’s seconds away from beating straight out of my chest.

  Kane doesn’t say a word as he crosses the space, depositing the bags on the kitchen island before turning back to where I’m still standing right inside the front door. My eyes dart around the space and I’m instantly transported to the last time I was here.

  The baby. The memory hits me before I can stop it and my stomach twists. I know there’s not a thing I could have done to save that child but that doesn’t mean that thinking about it, remembering what happened, doesn’t hurt like hell.

  I shake it off and focus on Kane. On the way his dark eyes watch me as I slowly move across the space toward him.

  I open my mouth to speak, to explain, to say anything, but instantly snap it closed when I catch sight of the thick stack of paper on the island next to Kane, bound together with string to look almost like a book.

  My eyes blur before refocusing as I approach. My hand reaches out and touches the title page the moment I reach it. I can feel Kane’s eyes on me, sense his closeness as I stand next to him, staring down at the manuscript on the counter. My manuscript.

  “Carol sent it to me,” Kane answers my question before I have the chance to ask.