by E. S. Maria
My arm stretches across his chest, trying to hold him tighter, closing my eyes again to stop premature tears from falling.
This boy … no … this man. How do I even come close to making up for all of his sacrifices for me when I didn’t do anything to warrant any of them?
“I’m sorry about how I reacted that night,” I tilt my head up to him, wishing that somehow he’ll be able to see through my broken eyes and know that I’m being sincere.
“Hannah, you had every right to be angry. I’m the one who should be sorry, and I still am. But I got desperate. And I thought that following you and making sure that you’re safe from point A to point B would somehow give me the peace of mind I so desperately needed.”
“But is it peace of mind you’re after, or is it penance?”
“Both … I guess.”
“I know it took me awhile to get there, but I’ve forgiven you already, Atticus. I think I forgave you while I was still with Paul, but I was still hurting and lashed out even after the accident. And I also knew that I couldn’t be with you if I wasn’t even close to that point where I could forgive myself for what happened to Paul.”
“But Han, it’s not your—”
“Fault? I know what you’re saying because everyone told me the exact same thing. But there were only two people in that car, and only one of us survived.”
Atticus shudders, then he squeezes me even tighter in his arms.
“But I’ve made peace with being the only survivor. I’m on my way to accepting the fact that I didn’t come out of the wreckage unscathed. And that I will carry the scars for the rest of my life … and I’m not just referring to the physical but the mental and emotional scars too.”
“But you’re not alone in all of this. Yes, you were the lone survivor, but you’re not carrying this burden alone. I’m here, Han. I will always be here for you, whether you want me to or not.”
The conviction in his voice sets me off, and before I knew it, the tears I’ve been trying to hold back are falling. “I want you to … be here, I mean … for me? Sorry … I’m a hot mess right now,” I try to laugh it off, but my voice is cracked from choking on the tears.
I feel his thumb wiping my tears away, “Shhh … baby,” he tells me gently, “trust me, you’re not a hot mess, but you are fuckin’ hot. Very hot.”
Giggling, I pinch him on the side, making him gasp, and making me giggle even more.
Ah, so he’s still ticklish there. Good to know.
He shifts his position so that he’s lying on top of me, his bottom half in-between my legs. He props his arms on both sides of my head, and as I feel his warm breath tingling my forehead and my nose, I know he’s staring at me, studying me.
I can’t see him, and yet I feel my cheeks heat up so I turn my head and close my eyes.
“You’re beautiful, Hannah, so there’s no need for you to hide in the darkness.”
I open my eyes, though I know it’s a futile effort. But I turn to face him again, because I still don’t know exactly where we stand.
“Is it true … what Brodie said? Were you really leaving for the U.S. soon to do some shows?”
He sighs, and I feel the skin on my cheeks tingling because of it.
“Yeah, I cancelled once already, so I asked my agent over there to reschedule. I guess the producers were keen and booked me for next week. I need to fly over there in a couple of days to meet with them and work out some shit. But I will be coming back straight after.”
“But were you really planning on staying over there indefinitely if, you know, if this didn’t happen?”
“Probably.”
“Oh.”
“Hannah, you said you didn’t want me in your life anymore. Then there’s the AVO threat. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I was an asshole to you after everything you’ve done for me. I guess you had every right to leave if you wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to. And I don’t think I can really be away from you for too long. I’ll always come back. And I will keep coming back because I just can’t help it. I am so in love with you, Hannah. I always have and I always will. It has been, and will always be, you.”
“Oh Atticus …” I choke out, my heart feels like it’s about to explode. I reach for his face, trying desperately to trace his features with my fingers, “I would do anything to see your face when you tell me you love me.”
“But Han,you don't need your eyes to know how much I love you. Listen to me speak the words. When I sing to you, listen to the lyrics because I wrote them all for you. Smell the flowers that I will give you, or your intoxicating scent on my skin when we make love. Use your hands to feel the way my heart beats every single time you’re around. And when I kiss these lips of yours, I’ll make damn sure that even the deepest part of your being will never have an iota of doubt. Trust me, you’ll feel it in spades, that seeing me speak the words will just become redundant.”
“Wow … you―you love me that much?” I ask, completely stupefied.
“No, my beautiful Songbird. I love you a lot more than that.”
“You’ve no idea how crazy happy I feel right now. I love you with everything I have, Atticus, and it never changed after all these years. Not one little bit,” I blubber out. Unable to contain my happiness, I pull him down, and I press my lips against his. He kisses me deeply, reverently, practising what he preaches and making my toes curl at the same time.
And just like that, my heart does explode with happiness. And in my darkness, I imagine the bedroom now lit up with fireworks and bright confetti.
He pulls away, breathing heavily. “Come with me. Come to America with me.”
Taken aback, I ask, “Are you sure? But I will just be in the way. Plus I have school to worry about.”
“But Hannah—”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m not going to get upset because at least I know you’re coming back,” my brows furrow. “When will you be back exactly?”
“I’ll be back in a fortnight.”
My heart sinks, “So … that long, huh?”
“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”
“I love you, Atticus. That’s why I’ll never hold you back from your dreams because this is who you are. I knew that all those years ago, and I still know that now.”
Atticus buries his face in the crook of my neck. “Sometimes I wonder if you would have waited for me had I asked you to, all those years ago. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”
I lean my head against his, eyes wide open, imagining exactly the kind of life we could have lived if we stayed together. And then I see Paul, alive and happily in love with another girl who truly deserves him. The accident never happened, and all is well.
It would have been an amazingly happier version of the now.
But all of the ‘could haves’ and ‘would haves’ will never change what our actual present has become.
And I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m learning to leave the past where it belongs instead of dwelling on it.
Sometimes we hold on to the past so tightly that it becomes difficult, even painful, to let go. Because we get so used to it that it becomes our object of comfort. But it’s deceiving. There is no comfort in holding onto the past, only more pain. But if we don’t force it, and if we do it slowly, one step at a time, then letting go will not be such a daunting task.
Eventually we’ll be free to welcome the future in front of us with open hands.
I don’t really know exactly how our lives would have ended up if we both did something differently. But good or bad, fate always has its way of catching up to us. Who knows? Maybe this is where we’d still end up because this is where we have to be.
I feel his lips on my neck, travelling upwards to my cheeks, my nose, and finally on my lips where we kiss with an emotion we need not have to speak of. And as he pulls away, Atticus touches his forehead on mine, where we breathe together in synchrony.
“Wait fo
r me.” Atticus murmurs, “Promise you’ll wait for me.”
I smile back, “I promise, Atticus. I’ll even pick you up at the airport and everything.” I answer, smiling.
“I’m holding you to that. But I’ll send a driver to pick you up so you can pick me up at the airport,” he responds back, before his lips begin to tell me exactly how happy I’ve made him.
There is no rush as we make love the second time around, taking our sweet time with each other because frankly, we really do have a lot of catching up to do. But our bodies can only take so much pleasure before giving in, seeking release. We climax in unison, crying out each other’s name, clinging to each other until the last tremble ebbs away.
Exhausted, it doesn’t take long before sleep finally takes hold. And as we lie down with our limbs tangled lovingly, I cannot help the sigh of contentment that softly escapes my lips, safe in the knowledge that I no longer have anything to fear when I wake up tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Three Years After
“It helps to imagine them all naked,” Atticus tells me in his lame attempt at comforting me.
“What? No!” We’re about to go onstage, our first official show in conjunction with the release of our self-titled debut album.
Yes, our debut album.
As a duo.
As a couple.
And now we’re about to headline a show … together.
Did I just blow your mind or what?
I still can’t wrap my own head around it either.
It all started pretty much after Atticus returned from his guest appearances in America. People loved him over there. There was just something about Australian men in general that got thoseAmericanwomen swooning. But all the attention never worried me. In fact, I was extremely proud of him and the reception he got across the ocean. He deserved all of it.
And to think that he was willing to give them all up for me.
I couldn’t let him do that. I could feel the depth and the extent of his love for me, and I wanted to prove to him that I loved him just as much by supporting his flourishing career.
When he returned from his trip, it was like something switched on between us. He asked me to move in with him right at the airport, and I said yes without hesitation. It felt like we were caught up in this whirlwind romance that was six years in the making.
And how we made up for our lost time. We’d spend every single moment we could, together. He drove me to and from the conservatorium in his Mustang. But every other day, I insisted on going at it by myself. I knew that he followed me around like he used to, but I just let him. I made him think that I didn’t know … or maybe he knew that I knew … I didn’t bother to ask. Then we’d spend our nights together, making love, or making new music. Either way, we ended up sleeping in each other’s arms completely satisfied.
And happy. We’ve been just. Happy.
Not just the laugh out loud kind of happiness, but the kind that warms you up from the insides, reverberating outwards, and making you want to be kinder to people ... even kinder to yourself.
It was like I was reborn, like finally, after being in the darkest tunnel alone, I finally made it into that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
The light I used to take for granted when I still had my eyesight is now something I may not experience anymore, but I am happiest where I am now because the kind of light I am basking in was borne out of love ... out of Atticus’s love.
My life after light …
It was at this early stage of my rebirth that Atticus and I started writing music together. The process was organic, he started playing a made-up tune, or I’d start, then one of us joined in. Lyrics got thrown in, verses got formed, and choruses fashioned to suit both of our voices singing in harmony. Our songs began to take shape. And they were, in their truest sense, a collaboration.
And gosh, the songs were honest, and they spoke for us.
Then one night, as I was suggesting a line for Atticus to use, he suddenly blurted out that we should record the songs in his recording studio. His studio was basically the second bedroom of his bungalow, converted and soundproofed into a small recording studio, but with professional-grade equipment. I agreed to record without hesitation, just for the shits and giggles, anyway.
We had ten songs in total: six duets, and two solos each, with one singing back-up for the other. We had no band, no extra instruments. All we had were our acoustic guitars, and nothing more. After we finished recording all the songs, we decided to invite just our closest friends and surprise them with an intimate listening party.
Thing was, no one really knew how we truly sounded together because we never performed for anyone before. Atticus and I just mucked around every time our friends came over. It was only during days when Atticus and I were alone that we took it seriously.
It was nerve-wracking, trying to gauge their reactions as they listened to our first recorded duet. And when that song ended, Atticus pressed Pause and asked them what they thought. There was silence for the longest time, until I heard Brook sobbing, and then Patty.
That was when I realised that they felt what Atticus and I felt when we recorded the songs.
Brodie suggested that maybe we should get the record company involved because our sound was unique, and it needed to be heard. The idea of someone, or a group of people I didn’t really know, listening to our songs and judging them, freaked the shit out of me.
But Atticus, however, thought it was a great idea.
I argued on the contrary and continued to argue with him until all our friends left. For me, the songs were just supposed to be meant for us, like a journal of our most cherished thoughts.
Then Atticus told me that our story might inspire others to be braver. That maybe, in another town, or in another part of the world, some other people with a broken heart would hear our songs and would realise that it was okay to feel the pain that life brought to them because it meant that they were still able to feel love.
Just like us.
And although he said that I still had the final word, I knew that I was going to agree with him and let him speak to his record company.
The reception to our debut album as a duo was bananas. The critics opined that our sound was a cross between He & She and The Civil Wars, but the edginess that Atticus Foster brought to the songs apparently made our sound stand out over the rest of the duos.
People loved our music. I was in a weird limbo, still trying to grasp what was happening. But Atticus was there to hold my hand the whole time, and he held on tight.
Five number one hits, a couple of Aria wins, a Grammy nomination, and guest appearances in quite a number of countries later, the rest was … well …
I can hear the crowd chanting our names in this venue that has a capacity of about four thousand.
It’s a sold-out show.
So I guess it’s completely understandable why I’m nervous as all hell. Sure, we’ve done gigs at smaller venues on our promo tour, but they only seated about five hundred, tops. There are literally ten thousand people who used their hard-earned money and bought tickets to this show. Our show. I don’t want to let them down.
“Hannah, just try it. It helped me on my very first arena concert.”
“Babe, I’m blind. I can imagine whatever I want. Maybe I’ll imagine a peaceful beach somewhere to help me relax. And seriously, I don’t want you picturing anyone naked anymore, especially naked women!” I wag a finger at Atticus, but he grabs my wrist and kisses the tip of my wagging finger.
And just like that, I begin to feel a little more relaxed.
“You know there’s only one woman I love picturing naked,” he says, his voice deep and utterly sexy, “especially when she’s underneath me, bent down in front of me, on top of me, her perfect tits bouncing up and down, her fingers scratching my skin as soon as she co—”
“Yes, yes! I get it. You picture me … us!” I grit my teeth at him, covering his mouth to stop him
from embarrassing me even further. “Seriously, there are people around us!”
“Babe, it’s not exactly a secret that I love you and your fucking hot body.”
“Okay, okay! Just … just let me find my happy place.” I playfully push him away, unable to help myself from giggling.
Blindness perk number one hundred and twenty: I’ve developed quite a vivid imagination.
And that imagination takes me back to the beach with Atticus, surfboards in hand, watching the waves together, the sun making the water glisten.
That’s when I actually feel Atticus’s fingers tangle with mine, holding me firmly in warmth.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I turn to him, smiling, “With you? Always.”
Then we walk together onstage, one we’ve practised so many times today so that I know where everything will be. With my guitar securely across my body, I reach for the microphone stand.
“Good evening, everyone! Hope you’re ready for some good times tonight. By the way, I am Hannah, this is Atticus, and we are Mac and Foster!”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
I picked a good day to do this.
I’m being sarcastic.
The forecast is supposed to be sunny, but as I’m driving to Avoca Beach, the sun well and truly disappears behind the gray clouds that cover the whole expanse of the sky, well, as far as I can see, anyway.
And it turns for the worse as soon as I’m exiting the freeway, as fat drops of rain start hammering down on the windshield and on the roof.
But I push away any niggling doubt that I’m making a big mistake, that this is some sort of an omen.
No.
After everything that had happened in the past years, I know that for me to even attempt to live the next chapter of my life with the person I want to live the rest of my life with, I need to do the right thing.
It doesn’t make it any less daunting though. And this fucked-up weather doesn’t help.
