Eyes Unveiled

by Crystal Walton

  “Are you . . . blushing?” I slinked closer, the way he always did to me. “What’s wrong, Rosy?”

  For a second, he appeared even more flustered but then advanced right back. “Look at you, Miss Sass. See? I knew you had some fight left in you. Just needed a little prodding.”

  “Your specialty.”

  He shrugged. “We all have our gifts.”

  Not so sure I did, but at least I had friendship. The kind that kept me pressing forward when I lost my way. “You were right, you know. About me needing to move on. I’m just trying to figure out where to go from here.”

  His smoldering eyes backed me into a chair. “Sometimes, the only way to start is by letting go.”

  A knot raced up my throat. “What if I let go, and there’s nothing left to hold on to?”

  “Then you reach for a different dream.”

  I clutched the top of the chair. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  His brow furrowed, and so did my heart. Didn’t he understand?

  He smiled sadly. “Then the dream will be there when you are ready.” He kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Emma.” He strode to the door.

  “A. J.” I pushed off the chair and caught the door. “Thanks. For tonight. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

  He lingered over the threshold a minute longer. At the banister, he paused again to glance at me before jogging down the stairs to the exit.

  I leaned against the closed door, held on to the knob, and stared down the narrow hallway into a haze of thoughts. It was time to engage life again. As difficult as it would be, I knew where I had to start.

  The carpet threads clung to the bottom of my socks, delaying each step toward my bedroom. I unburied my journal from under a pile of junk in the top drawer of my desk and sat on the edge of my bed. A crisp white page looked back at me.

  With my pen hovering against the paper, I strained for the words I’d give anything to be able to speak to the person who’d always given me courage when I needed it most.

  Dad, I’m trying. Trying to find who you saw in me. To find where you’re leading me. But I can’t see anymore. The emptiness is too real, too blinding. It hurts to hope for the things you taught me to believe in. I’ve done everything I know to do, and still I’m left standing against one question that’s never answered. Why?

  Why did you have to leave us? I want to keep my promise to you. I want to be enough. Enough in return for everything you’ve given me. But I can’t do this on my own. Please help me find the strength to keep going, even when I can’t see how.

  I traced my hand down the page, across words begging for an answer. No sound or movement stirred in that tiny room. Eyes closed, I cradled my journal to my chest and sensed Dad’s tender arms closing around mine with a truth I wasn’t sure I was ready to accept.

  Sometimes, holding on to dreams means learning to let them go.

  Monday morning, I drove Jaycee’s Fiat to Riley’s apartment. Sunbeams stretched down a front door I couldn’t bring myself to knock on. Between all of my unanswered calls and the empty space on the sidewalk he never showed up on anymore, I’d learned some doors were kept shut for a reason. I set the long overdue music box he’d lent me on the porch and walked away.

  Trouble with loans? They expire. Just like promises.

  This early in the day, the vacant streets made the drive to the woods shorter than usual. The car sputtered into the same spot in front of the trail where Riley and I used to park.

  The forest still played its soothing song, but things had changed. Layers of brittle pine needles hid the trail beneath them. A broader ceiling of sky poured through the barren treetops and eroded the quaintness I remembered.

  Wind rustled through the branches. I tugged my scarf up high enough to shield the slivers of skin on my neck from the December chill. Leaves disintegrated under my shoes like ash the deeper I walked into the forest. I stopped beside an Elm tree along the periphery of the clearing. Memories of being there with Riley pressed in with the bark against my palm.

  I brushed my fingers over the boulders’ mossy surface and knelt down on both knees. The frosted ground crunched against my jeans. Despite the warmth from the sunlight, the cold earth seeped through the fabric just like the feelings from being there again seeped through every layer I’d tried to place around my heart.

  I turned the folded-up page I’d written last night round and round in my hands. Inhaling deeply, I laid it on the ground and covered it with a small, flat stone. And there, in the middle of the place where dreams began, I let them go.

  Straightening, I pulled a crinkled business card from my pocket and dialed a number I should have called a long time ago. “Yes, Mr. Russo? I’m calling about an internship opportunity Miriam Chen passed on to me.”

  chapter twenty-five

  Stirred

  After tying up all the loose ends that afternoon, I strode through Mr. Oakly’s office door without bothering to announce my arrival.

  “You may not be very good at returning messages, Miss Matthews, but you’re certainly punctual.” He apparently didn’t need to lift his head to know it was me. “Two days ahead of the end of the semester, to be exact.”

  As if I’d forgotten his end-of-term deadline. I choked back the response I wanted to give, marched straight up to his desk, and set a crumpled piece of paper on top of the one he was hunched over.

  Mr. Oakly peered at me from above his frames and then down at the scribbled-over list of internships he’d given me earlier in the term. He took his glasses off and tapped them on his desktop. “Miss Matthews, I’ve been hard on you because I hate to see my students graduate without a plan to succeed in the marketplace.”

  Because it’ll make you look bad. Yeah, I get it.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I found an internship with a guaranteed job lead. I start January fifteenth.”

  Mr. Oakly’s chair creaked into a straightened position. He slid his glasses back on and held the piece of paper at reading distance. “Financial Analyst with Edwards Jones,” he read.

  It didn’t matter what he thought anymore. I’d wasted enough time floundering. He’d gotten one thing right. I simply had to pick an internship and move forward. Not dream for something more.

  This was all there was. As long as I kept my heart in check this time and took Renee’s advice on not hoping to get anything out of work other than a paycheck, it’d be fine. More than fine. It’d be exactly as it should be. Just like I’d planned before this year started, before Riley . . . I couldn’t go there.

  I stood tall and unmoving, my shoulders level with the bookshelf littered with awards and statues beside me. “I already spoke with the dean about what really happened at Xander and convinced him my history of academic excellence warranted some leeway on the deadline. He agreed to postpone my scholarship evaluation until the end of next semester to allow time for my internship supervisor to submit a performance review.”

  Mr. Oakly lumbered in his chair, the glare in his scrutiny not wavering.

  I wrung the gloves in my hands. “So, I get to keep my scholarship for another semester, my mom gets a revised bill, and you get another prize student who ups her chances of landing a job after graduation. Am I missing anything?”

  Mr. Oakly’s lips twitched underneath his scruffy mustache. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.” His suspenders stretched to the max as he rose. “I’m on my way to see the dean right now, as a matter of fact.”

  “I’ll follow you out.”

  I stayed in step with him until we reached a bend in the hallway, where I veered to the right toward the stairs. A trace of his Old Spice cologne followed me in from the hallway and mixed with the smell of rubber coming from the steps. I gripped the railing. My valiant display of confidence plummeted to the bottom of the vacant stairwell before I did.

  An act only worked with an audience.

  I pushed the exit open with my back and kept my eyes away from the sun on my
way to the Campus Center.

  The desolate halls left no question that the majority of students had already wrapped up their final exams and headed home for winter break.

  “What time should I pick you up tonight?” A. J. sailed around the corner like some kind of apparition.

  I dropped my keys. “Do you always sneak up on people in empty hallways?”

  “Only pretty, unsuspecting girls.”

  There was that infamous charm again. “Think I’ve been friends with you long enough to graduate from the unsuspecting crowd.”

  He scooped up my keys from the floor and dangled them on his finger as he closed in. “You thought I was talking about you?” The corner of his mouth peaked to the left.

  “Give me those.” I swiped the keys from him.

  He laughed. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  I unlocked my mailbox. “What are you talking about?”

  He reclined sideways against the wall while I peered into my open mail slat. “I’m taking you out. A night on the town, remember?”

  I froze, peeked up without moving. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Uh-uh, no arguments from you, missy. Consider it an extra step of intervention. For good measure. It’s just what you need.” He jogged backward toward the exit. “Trust me.”

  “I don’t know. I’d rather—”

  “See you around six o’clock,” he said as he disappeared down the hallway.

  “You’re maddening sometimes, you know that?”

  The empty corridor magnified the sound of his laughter, which seemed to follow me to my apartment like one of those musical greeting cards I could open whenever I needed it.

  Between A. J.’s ability to drive me crazy and the added distraction of packing for our three-week break, I’d crammed all unease from my meeting with Mr. Oakly into a distant suitcase in my mind. It was resolved anyway. I’d set out to move on, and I did. No more fretting.

  My cell phone vibrated against the kitchen table with an incoming text. Dress warmly for tonight.

  “Jae, do you know where he’s taking me?”

  She perched herself on the counter and stirred her coffee. “Nope, but he’s pretty stoked to surprise you.”

  His escapades in the hallway earlier had made that much clear. “Why didn’t he invite you and Trev to come with us?”

  “My guess is he’s trying to avoid the whole double date scene. He knows how bent out of shape you get whenever you think he’s trying to hit on you.”

  “And taking me out alone clearly won’t make it feel like a date. Totally see his logic there.” I picked at a stain on the placemat. He knew how I felt about him, didn’t he? Maybe I should cancel tonight. Just in case.

  Jaycee waved her spoon at me. “Give the guy some credit for taking you out. You haven’t exactly been Miss Sunshine lately.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m . . . sunshiny.” I wiggled up in my chair until my shoulders reached my defense level. So, I floundered for a little bit there. I pulled myself out, got back in the fight.

  “You have driven-Emma again. And hey, I haven’t raided the cleaning closet in weeks.” I laughed, but Jaycee’s expression didn’t budge.

  I set my phone down and faced her head on. “Everything’s how it’s supposed to be. My scholarship’s secure, I’ve got the perfect internship gig, a promising job lead. Everything’s good. Full of sunshine. Pinky promise.”

  “Except for the little fact that you’re not really living.”

  That stung. “Wow, why don’t you be a little harsher?”

  She hopped off the counter. “Joy, Em. I’m talking about joy. I know things with Riley left you questioning everything, but at least you were alive then. Like I’ve never seen you. I miss that.”

  I shoved the placemat and stood up. “I can’t bring Riley back.”

  “It wasn’t Riley. It was you.”

  Wrong. It was a silly dream. One I’d already buried. I couldn’t afford to let my heart get in the way anymore.

  A. J. popped through the front door, looking like he’d downed a container of chocolate-covered coffee beans. “Ready?”

  He gave me a whiplash up-and-down glance, which I gave him right back. He’d exchanged his usual Nikes for a pair of Docs, and his hoodie for a brown sweater zipped up to his closely-shaven chin. This couldn’t be good.

  “A. J., I think I should stay home.”

  “Not a chance.” He grabbed my hand and hauled me out the door.

  Jaycee’s comments burrowed into me, the December chill following right behind.

  I caved into the warm, leather seat. Instrumental Christmas music hummed from the stereo. The atmosphere oozed with an invitation to unwind.

  “All set?” he asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

  Doubt it. I spied the printed directions tossed on top of the dashboard above the steering wheel. “You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”

  “And ruin the fun of watching you try to figure it out?”

  The tighter I pressed my lips together, the wider his expanded.

  After about a half hour into our drive, stress slinked back over my body and reclaimed its territory, muscle by muscle. I couldn’t avoid it. A. J. deserved my honesty on where we stood. Even if it meant admitting I was broken. That the warning label over my heart that used to read Fragile, had been replaced with the even more telling label, Damaged.

  “Wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

  From the way he asked, he probably already knew the answer. Still, I had to make sure. “I think we should talk.”

  His laughter overpowered the shakiness in my voice. “Really, Em, relax. I’m not taking you out tonight so I can put the moves on you.” He lifted three fingers in the air to salute his oath. “Scouts honor.”

  Sometimes, I didn’t know how he mastered being charming and adorable at the same time. He was going to make this harder than it already was.

  I pushed up my sleeves, rotated the vent away. “A. J., I need to be sure you understand that my heart isn’t available to give away.” The words spewed out in a non-stop breath. Nothing like shooting it to him straight. I clutched my seatbelt and waited for his response.

  His hand traced down the steering wheel, his gaze locked on the windshield. “I know,” he said, his voice stripped to a quiet shell of his normal deep bravado.

  The piano on the radio sounded much louder than it had a moment ago. A ball of threadbare emotions trekked up my throat.

  He set his hand over mine on top of the console. “How about we forget everything else tonight? Just live a little. Have a good time.”

  My back eased into the leather seat with an exhale.

  “And for the record, I’m just a good friend taking another good friend out for a night on the town. If it helps, try to picture me as Jaycee.” He batted his eyes.

  “Close resemblance.” I cocked my chin. “For the record.”

  “I’m not pulling off the J. Crew model look today, huh?” His laughter tapered. “Honestly though, try not to think so much tonight, okay?”

  “Okay, Jaycee.”

  “Hey, whatever works. But how ‘bout you don’t call me that when we’re in public?”

  I flashed him a replica of the grin he gave me earlier when he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. “And ruin the fun of watching you squirm?”

  “Touché.”

  He had no idea how disarming he could be sometimes. The relief of making sure he knew how I felt released the last bit of tension holding me back from enjoying an evening with a friend.

  “Okay,” he said. “According to the directions, we should be able to park right about . . . here.”

  We turned one final street corner and found a small parking lot manned by an older gentleman collecting five-dollar fees from inside a tiny booth. The signs had made it clear that we were somewhere in downtown Portland, but I still wasn’t sure where we were going.

  Ha
t over my ears, coat zipped up clear to my chin, fingers slipped into my glove’s fleece lining, I was ready.

  He took my bundled hand in his. “Come on, Eskimo Girl, this way.”

  The intersection on Morrison Street drew me to a stop in front of a decorated Christmas village. Lighted strands of garland topped with red fabric bows hugged each lamppost bordering the sidewalks. Animated Christmas figurines of reindeer and snowmen moved gracefully to distant music. Icicle lights dangled from the awnings of most every shop.

  “What do you think?” A. J. asked.

  I spun in a circle to take in each detail surrounding us. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Don’t get too starry-eyed yet. There’s still more to see.”

  When we reached the center of the decorated area, A. J. pressed into my shoulder. “The first night we met, you told me you liked every genre of music. I’m holding you to that.”

  “Now I’m really nervous.”

  He stretched his arm across my shoulders and steered me around the last corner. My hand flew to my mouth. It drifted down to my scarf and back up again. A small jazz band was warming up on top of a wooden platform raised a couple of feet above the ground.

  “The band’s going to be playing outside? Right here?”

  His face beamed in the shimmering lights of an oversized Christmas tree. “Yep. They probably won’t play more than an hour tops, but it should be a nice complement to the atmosphere.”

  He unlatched a small gate leading to an enclosed patio with a handful of black wrought iron tables and coordinating chairs. “Shall we?”

  The music added the perfect undertone to an already charming scene that I would’ve sworn someone had taken straight out of a movie. Even the etchings on the red-tinted votive holders decorating the tabletops danced along in the candlelight.

  A. J. must’ve caught me swaying. The shadow of his grin climbed across the table. “See what happens when you stop thinking so much.” He extended his hand toward me. “Come on, Dancing Queen.”