by Kim Karr
I remember the hardest part of thinking about Dahl moving on was accepting that at one time I was the only one Dahl had ever been with. I had thought I would not only be her first, but also her last. Now I’ve lost that. And thinking back I wonder why I didn’t try harder to make our life together perfect. Is that why she has stayed with that new guy? It drives me crazy trying to figure out what she could see in him. There has to be something because of all the things that have happened in the last three days, what my mom told me about Dahl shocked the shit out of me most of all—she told me Dahl’s engaged. As if knowing someone else has touched her isn’t bad enough, hearing she’s going to marry another guy has torn my heart apart.
Chapter 3
Here and Now
We head to Grace’s house once I’ve changed into one of River’s shirts, a pair of jeans, and my Converse. I’m worried about what made Grace call and say she wants to talk to me in person. I hope she’s all right. She sounded like she had been crying when I spoke to her and the sense of urgency in her voice was clear.
My unease must be evident because River looks over and gives me a concerned look as he squeezes my hand tight. Then he gives me what I know is his fake smile, hoping to reassure me. I want to ask him what he thinks she wants to talk about but I’m afraid of what he will say. What if Grace or Serena or Trent isn’t well? My throat tightens and I pick up the bottle of water I brought with me, slowly twisting the cap and taking a big gulp.
His phone sits in the pseudo-ashtray, charging, and I jump when it rings. “Charlotte Tyler” flashes across the screen. As I reach to grab it, he covers my hand. “Let’s not answer my mom’s calls right now. I think Xander suspected something when I talked to him earlier. He probably mentioned it to Mom and now she’s calling to find out what’s going on.”
I nod my head as the phone stops ringing; he picks it up and holds down the top button, turning it off. I turn the radio on and stare out the window, but when Gavin DeGraw’s “I’m in Love with a Girl” comes on, I quickly reach to turn it off. I can’t listen to that song. It always reminds me of the last time I saw Ben.
I’ve never been so grateful to see the stone driveway leading to Grace’s beach house, as I am right this minute. As soon as the car is parked, River brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it before turning the ignition off. I can’t take my eyes off him, and I know I’m probably squeezing his hand too tight. “I’m sorry we had to postpone leaving for Las Vegas, but Grace sounded like she really needs me.”
He returns my quick smile. “Beautiful girl, we are going to be together for the rest of our lives. Another few hours or another few days doesn’t change anything. Let’s see what Grace wants. And who knows, we might still make it to the airport later tonight.”
He opens my door for me and we walk down the path to the front porch. Looking behind me, I catch sight of Caleb parking in the large U-shaped driveway. It’s a little ridiculous that he followed us all the way here but now is not the time to discuss it. I also see Serena’s car in the driveway near the garage and my concern turns to full-out worry. I take a deep calming breath as I open the front door. “Grace? We’re here. Sorry it took so long, there was a lot of traffic,” I call out as I lead River into the house I’ve always considered a home.
The large family room is dimly lit and Grace stands on the other side in the kitchen doorway. I look around but don’t see Serena or Trent anywhere. I notice the room seems to be in a bit of disarray. Shopping bags on the floor, a duffel bag thrown at the bottom of the stairs, and a stack of newspapers on the desk. Seeing us, she swiftly turns and walks back in the room. She wipes tears away as she approaches and I know for sure something is terribly wrong. The feeling grows when she pulls me in for a long embrace. “Dahlia,” she sobs as she hugs me for what seems like hours. When she steps back she cups both my cheeks. “Oh my darling girl, I’m just not sure how to do this.” She drops her hands and gives River an odd look, quickly hugging him as well.
Serena enters the room with a tray holding a pot of coffee and mugs. She sets it down on the table and says, “Dahlia, River, you’re here.” Then she furrows her brow at Grace and says, “Mom, come on and sit down. Give Dahlia some room to breathe.” I can tell Serena has been crying, too, and my worry becomes full-out panic. I turn to River for reassurance and he grabs my hand and follows Grace, leading me to the large overstuffed sofa in the middle of the room.
I sit down next to Grace with River on the other side of me. “Grace, what’s the matter? You’re freaking me out.”
Tears are streaming down her face and they’re soon mimicked by my own. I look to Serena for comfort, but she, too, is crying. “What’s going on?” My heart has started pounding quicker and quicker with every passing second. When no one answers, I squeeze River’s hand so tightly it actually pulses in mine.
Finally, Serena clears her throat and speaks. “Dahlia, River, we have something to tell you. I know it’s going to be a . . .” I try to listen but can’t help but tune her out as I see a shadow walking toward us from the kitchen. When I look up I see an image of Ben. I gasp and my stomach clenches. Am I dreaming? This can’t be real. He’s dead. I know he is. What’s wrong with me? I clench River’s hand even harder and start to worry that maybe I’m suffering from a head injury. I close my eyes hoping my hallucination will be gone when I reopen them, but it’s not. I am so confused. I’m also really scared.
He stops moving and stands on the other side of the table. I hear voices, but no words. I hear River’s voice. I hear Ben’s voice. I hear someone crying. Wait—this can’t be Ben. I remember crying when he died. I remember sitting in the pew between Grace and Serena, gripping both their hands while listening to Father John recite the Final Commendation and Farewell. Grace leaned against me and I leaned against Serena. I remember the tears they cried, the tears I cried. They were all cried for him—because he was dead.
I remember the painful final chorus of amens before the pallbearers loaded his ivory casket into the hearse that brought him to his final resting place. I remember saying goodbye to him as they lowered him into the ground. I said goodbye a million times after that.
Yet for some reason, despite knowing that he’s gone, I can still see him. He’s standing in front of me. I stare at the figure that looks so much like Ben. No, not just looks like Ben—it is Ben. I see a face that’s completely unreadable to me. Eyes that are as blue as I remember them. Hair that’s shorter than I remember, but still wavy and dirty blond. Clothes that look like his—lightweight hoody and cargo shorts. Soft tears are falling down his cheeks. This figure looks the same as Ben, but somehow different at the same time. Older maybe? Still beautiful, though. Still Ben in every way. He sniffs a little, which makes the figure seem even more real, and I have to go see for myself that it isn’t. I stand up, drop River’s hand and slowly, cautiously, walk toward it. My fists clench, my heart pounds, and fear wrenches through my entire body. I feel the prickle of stares from everyone in the room. I know River is talking to me but I’m not listening. I have to figure out what this is that I see.
I’m barely breathing, nervous and petrified as I study his shape. I approach his image with uncertainty. And as I stand in front of him, I can’t help but think—this really is him. I cautiously cup his cheek with my hand. His skin is smoother than I remember and it feels so real. His hands trap mine and his eyes search me, search through me looking for something I’m not sure he can find.
When I don’t respond, he drops his hands. His body trembles as he fingers the pearls around my neck. He pulls me to him. “Dahl, I’ve missed you so much.”
Struggling to break free of his hold, I feel like I’m suffocating. All the air has left my lungs and my head spins. Why am I dreaming about Ben in the middle of day? I’ve put Ben to rest. Why does his touch feel so real? Why does his voice reverberate through me in such a familiar way? This makes no sense. The room seems to disappear.
“Benjamin,” Grace says softly, “I think we should a
ll sit down and explain what’s going on. This has to be an enormous shock to Dahlia.”
With widened eyes I snap my attention over to her and point my finger. “Did you say Ben? Do you see him, too?”
“Dahlia, please come sit down,” she says in the same calm, soothing tone she always uses when she knows I’m on the verge of hysteria. Her hands are on my shoulders as she attempts to turn me back to face her. River approaches me with a blank stare, complete shock evident on his face. I turn back to the figure I thought was just a figment of my imagination.
When he says, “Dahl, it’s me. It’s really me. I wasn’t really shot. I didn’t actually die. I did it for you. I did it all for you,” I have to blink over and over to focus my eyes and try to hear what he’s saying.
As I process the words, I begin to think I might be in some alternate universe. My body trembles and my knees are weak as I look at him and scream, “Did what? Oh my God! You did what for me? Who the hell are you?”
River’s arms are instantly at my side, trying to pull me away, but I am frozen in this spot, I can’t move. I am entranced by this man who looks so much like my Ben. Then I look into this man’s forget-me-not blue eyes and suddenly I know he’s real, this is my Ben. I can see him; the boy I grew up with, the guy I knew so well. The man I was going to marry.
River yells, Grace cries, and Serena whispers, but I don’t hear their words as I continue to stare at the man I spent most of my life with, the man I believed was dead. His eyes are still glued to mine. Tears stream down his face and I know my tears are now out of control. “Dahl, do you understand what I’m saying . . . Do you hear me?”
I don’t let him finish; instead my fists pound into his chest with the force of my whole body. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re dead! I saw you die!” His face collapses and my lungs seem to stop expanding.
River practically sprints forward, pulling me away. Ben’s hands are at my waist, grabbing for me. My legs aren’t there to support me any longer. The room starts spinning and I lose all sense of what is real. As I feel myself start to fall, I reach for River but his strong arms are already clutching me tightly. I see shapes but no faces. I hear yelling, screaming.
“Nothing has changed. She belongs with me.”
“She belongs with me,” River yells, and his voice sounds like it could cut through steel.
“Fuck you,” Ben responds.
And I don’t hear anything else as everything around me goes black. Until the fresh air outside hits my senses and I begin to regain consciousness. River cradles me in his arms on the way to the car. Grace is behind him. She’s pleading with him to stay and bring me to her room. I don’t hear his answer. He sets me in the front seat and I’m at least able to sit up. Leaning into the car he asks if I’m okay, but I can’t even nod my head. He whispers in my ear that he just wants to get me home.
At the edge of my vision I see Caleb getting out of his car and taking in the scene. River hurries across the car to the driver’s side. At the front door of the house, Serena is grabbing Ben’s arm as he moves toward us, screaming at River. My throat tightens with an unfamiliar feeling. River’s yelling as he storms toward Ben, but Caleb gets to Ben first and pushes him toward the house. Needing some air, I roll down the window and hear Ben yell, “You filled a void when I wasn’t here, but you’re no substitute for the real thing.” Not wanting to hear his voice anymore, I close the window.
When I see Ben lunge for River, I’m relieved that Caleb stops him and River heads back to the car. As the door opens I hear Ben yelling, “Dahl, don’t leave!” My trembling intensifies at hearing his voice again and the tears are flowing from my eyes like a heavy rainstorm. I try to blink back the confusion.
The door slamming startles me from my emotional turmoil. He’s angry. His body is tense and he pounds his hands against the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The sound echoes between us. Keeping his head bowed for a few seconds, he looks up at the ceiling before looking at me. “Are you okay?” His tone fails in its attempt at normalcy.
Nodding is all I can do. My limbs are limp and a broken sound escapes my lips. Studying me, he reaches over and moves the strand of hair that has fallen into my face away from my eyes. Pulling my chin up, he wipes my tears away, but says nothing and neither do I. I don’t even know what I would say . . . I don’t even know how I feel other than that I might explode—cry, scream, might even laugh.
I can’t imagine how he feels right now. I hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel his hands trembling. The tips of fingers on my face are warm and loving and I lean into them.
My eyes are focused on him and I jump when there’s a rap on my window. It’s Grace checking on me. River lowers the window, but I keep my eyes on him. Her words fade in and out as I focus on his face—the one constant in my life right now. Telling her he’ll call her in the morning; he closes the window even though she’s still talking. No more words are spoken as he starts the car. When the car accelerates with a quick jerk, I rest my head against the glass window and allow myself to fade back into unconsciousness.
“Let me get you some water,” River says in the most somber tone I’ve ever heard him use, when I wake up groggy at home on the sofa. He stops to turn the fireplace on and then heads for the kitchen. From where I’m sitting, I can see him standing at the sink. He puts both palms over his eyes and holds them there for a short while. Then he fills a glass with water and gulps it down before refilling it and bringing it to me. I rub the glass against my forehead, but it’s not cold enough to numb the turmoil swelling in my soul. I watch him as he sits next to me on the couch. He takes my ringing phone from his pocket and turns it off. Then he takes out his own phone, turns it on, and moves his finger around on the screen before speaking to me.
The pain of my sore body is a welcome distraction from the pain of seeing Ben alive. I wish it would overcome me and mask the emotion I’m not sure I should be feeling. Is Ben really alive? How? Why? I have so many questions, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to learn the answers.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he says calmly. Almost too calmly . . . he sounds detached, like he’s talking but not listening to his own words.
“No! No, I don’t. Not now! And stop talking to me that way.”
He flinches. “I’m not talking to you in any way.”
“River, I’m sorry. I’m just so confused right now.”
My tears turn into near-hysterics and he pulls me to him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m here to talk whenever you’re ready.” Then he kisses my head and just holds me.
After what seems like hours, my crying wanes. I’m drained, depleted of all emotion. I don’t even have enough energy to cry anymore; I don’t have any more tears left to shed. Looking up into his conflicted face, I know it’s a reflection of my own. “I love you. This doesn’t change anything,” I whisper, feeling strongly that he needs to know this.
“It changes everything, Dahlia.”
I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice neutral but contempt flares at the edges of his words. His tone is despondent, disconnected, and I can’t even fathom what he thinks about Ben being alive. He needs time to process this, just like me. But right now I think we both need to push it aside. Neither one of us is in the right frame of mind to discuss the impact Ben will have on our lives.
Just wanting to feel something other than pain or despair, I crush my lips to his, needing to let him know, to feel, how much I love him. He returns my kiss, but when I move to straddle him and start to lift his shirt, he gently pushes me back. He stares at me.
“No, Dahlia, not now. I can’t right now,” he whispers in a broken tone.
“River, it’s okay. I’m okay.”
He shakes his head and pulls me to him. He turns the TV on and lays us down on the couch, tucking my head under his chin. He starts to watch a boxing match and rubs my back. I eventually nod off.
But it’s all waiting for me when I wake up a little while later.
I’m lying against the back of the sofa and River is facing me with his arms and legs bracketing my body. While looking at him, everything comes rushing back. Why we fell asleep out here. What happened wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. Ben. He’s alive. He really was at Grace’s, touching me, speaking to me.
With all of the questions pounding through my mind, I really can’t even understand how any of this is possible. What was he talking about—he did it for me? Did what? One minute I’m running off to Las Vegas to marry the man of my dreams . . . the next minute the man I spent most of my life with, the man whom I thought was dead—is back.
The flickering blue light from the TV and the flame from the fireplace are the only lights in the room. I look at River and wonder how this will affect us. He’s twitching in his sleep and I rest my hand over his heart to feel the steady beat. I can feel the warmth of his skin under his thin T-shirt and I want him—I want to touch him, to connect with him.
Leaning into him, I softly kiss his jaw as I run my hand up his chest. He instantly responds as his arms, already wrapped around me, tighten.
In his ear I whisper, “River.”
He shifts slightly so that I am lying on top of him and his eyes open. “You okay, beautiful?” he asks as his green eyes flicker and then meet mine.
I nod and trace my tongue around the seam of his lips. He places his hand on my head and pulls it down to his chest, clutching me close to him, like he wants to hold me forever.
Lifting my head, I kiss his neck. I hear his breathing pick up, but once again he pulls me close and hugs me. I push myself back up so we’re face-to-face. “River, I want you.”
