Be My Reason

by Samantha Christy

  I can’t drive forever so I go to the one place that has always provided me comfort and unconditional love. Home.

  My mother already knows something is wrong as I called her to cover for me at the bakery this morning. That is the first place he would look for me and I’m not about to have a confrontation there. That is, if he even still cares. Maybe last night was just another one-night stand for him. Maybe he needed to get me out of his system so that he could move on.

  Thankfully, my dad is gone and will not be home until much later. I need some time alone without everyone trying to help me or fix this. I made my decision. It is for the best. I wish everyone could understand that.

  I’m lying in my old bed, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets that my dad affixed to it when I was young. Back when there was no drama, no hurt, no pain. Maybe if I stay here long enough, I can become that carefree little girl again.

  I lie here trying not to remember every kiss, every touch, every orgasm from last night, when music startles me. It takes me a second to realize it is my phone. I don’t even have to guess who is calling me. He must have changed my ring tone for him. The ring tone that is now begging me to be his reason . . . his cause . . . his light. That song he won’t let me get away from.

  I cannot bear to hear it anymore so I reach into my purse and turn off my phone. Then I fall asleep, physically exhausted from last night, mentally exhausted from this morning . . . twisting my hair and counting to five, over and over.

  I awake to pounding at the front door. I ignore it of course, thinking that eventually he will go away. Then I hear Emma screaming up at my window at the top of her lungs. “Lyn!” she howls. “Lyn, open the damn door. I’m not leaving until you let me in.”

  Crap! I know she means it.

  I quickly look in the mirror and wipe away yesterday’s smeared mascara from under my eyes. Then I check the time and see I’ve been sleeping for hours.

  I go downstairs and look through the window by the front door. She is alone. Thank God. I open the door and Emma barrels through it, almost pushing me to the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you, Lyn?” She screams at me.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” I snark at her.

  “Don’t give me that, sister.” She points her finger at me. “Do you know why I’m here? Why I’ve driven the four hour drive from Raleigh in about three hours?” She lifts her eyebrows. “Well, do you?”

  “To return my JLo CD you borrowed twelve years ago?” I deadpan.

  “Not funny.” She pulls me into the living room and sits me on the couch. “Listen to me, Lyn, and listen good. I’m here because Nate called his dad this morning and asked him to take him off the job and give it to Graham.”

  I just stare at her.

  “As in, Nate is leaving. He is packing his stuff as we speak and is going back to Raleigh.” She hits the pillow next to me with a balled up fist. “Forever.”

  “Good. That is exactly what I want,” I say to her. “He needs to get on with his life. The quicker he realizes that we can’t be together, the better. He is right to leave here.” Even as I say the words that I know are true, I have to fight off the tears that threaten to fall.

  “Why is it that everyone else can see that you belong together? Everyone but you, Lyn.”

  “Maybe that was true once, a long time ago. But not anymore, a lot has happened and we can’t be together,” I say.

  “What? Tell me what has happened? What is it that is making you so stubborn that you refuse to do the one thing that everyone else knows will make you happy?”

  “Michael!” I yell at her. “Michael happened.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

  Emma takes a deep breath and puts her hand on mine. “Lyn, I know you loved Michael. He was a great guy. But you are ready for this and he would want you to be happy. I know you are ready to move on. I realized it six months ago, when you finally got rid of that old toothbrush of his.” She smiles at me.

  I remember that day, too. The day I tried to put him behind me. But it wasn’t so that I could find another man. It was the day I accepted the fact that I could be alone and be okay with it. I didn’t need someone else to make me happy. I had my shop, my parents, some close friends and that was going to be good enough for me. So, yes, I threw away that old toothbrush. The one I had still used every once in a while, just to feel close to him again. Then I took off my engagement ring and tucked it far back in my jewelry box.

  I shake my head at her. “No.”

  “Why?” She is getting frustrated with me. “Why can’t you allow yourself to be happy?”

  I close my eyes and remain silent. She doesn’t know. She couldn’t possibly understand the burden of betrayal that I carry with me. My betrayal of a man who was quite possibly the most perfect person ever to touch my life. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to be with a woman whose heart was fractured and couldn’t ever be fully repaired. He was so much more than I ever could have lived up to.

  “Brooklyn Anne Vaughn!” she yells at me. “What the hell is your problem?” She throws my hand back down onto my leg.

  Tears are pushing through my closed eyelids and I can’t take it anymore. “I don’t deserve to be happy!” I yell back at her. “I killed him.”

  “What?” She looks at me with brows drawn together. “Who?”

  “I killed Michael,” I say softly and look at the floor, “and I don’t deserve to be happy, especially with Nate.” There, I said it. I finally let out what I’ve been feeling these past few years. It feels good to get it off my chest and tell someone, but it doesn’t change the facts.

  She shakes her head at me. “Michael died in a car accident when you were taking your exams. How can that possibly make you responsible?”

  “Because I was with Nate, in Raleigh. I had feelings for him. I’m a terrible person.”

  “That is crazy, Lyn.” She takes my hand once again. “Of course you had feelings for him. He was your first love. The boy you lost your virginity to. That doesn’t make you a bad person. And nothing happened. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “There was a kiss. Well, there would have been, anyway. That night in the rain.” I tell her the whole story about what she and Graham unknowingly interrupted that night.

  “Lyn, even if you would have kissed him, that still doesn’t make you responsible for Michael’s death. In the end, you did the right thing, you were loyal to Michael. You would be married to Michael right now if he were still alive. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” She rubs my back to comfort me.

  “No, you don’t understand, Emma. I am responsible.” I take a deep breath and say what I’ve never even admitted to myself until now. “I thought . . . just for a second back then I thought . . . what if Michael wasn’t around. That I could be with Nate if Michael wasn’t around.” I drop my head to her shoulder and sob. I cry until my tears dry up and there is nothing left but heaves and hiccups.

  Emma holds me to her as she continues to rub my back. “Oh, Lyn. We have all thought things like that at one time or another. Even now, as much as I love Graham and would never leave him, I can see a really hot guy and wonder what it would be like if I were single.” She pulls my face up and places her hands on either side of it, looking me directly in the eyes. “We can’t control our thoughts and feelings. But what we can control are our actions. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You did nothing wrong. You loved Michael and you were loyal to him. Please, Lyn, you have to accept that.”

  I nod weakly at her. I hear what she is saying and I want to believe her. But I know deep down that I am partly to blame. “Thanks for coming all this way Emma, but it doesn’t change anything.” I get up from the couch and head upstairs for my purse. “I need to get away for a while. Please don’t follow me.”

  “You are making a mistake, Lyn,” she says when I return to the room. “One day you will realize that and then it will be too late. He says he is done. He
is not waiting for you anymore. If you let him leave, you won’t get him back.”

  “I know,” I say, as I go out the front door and close it, leaving Emma behind.

  Hours later, after driving and trying to clear my head, I am sitting on a hard, cold concrete bench, talking to the person I’ve hurt more than anyone in this life. “I’m so sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I had feelings for him. I hope you can forgive me someday, Michael.”

  I stare at his grave.

  I close my eyes and remember the good times we had together. I think about the time he gave me eighty-six roses just because we had been together that many days. Then there was the rare weekend getaway we had to the beach, making love on the sand at dawn. He was such a romantic.

  I jump slightly off the bench when I feel small, but gentle hands come around me from behind. “Aunt Lyn!”

  I turn around to find my almost-niece, Amanda, smiling at me. She is a pretty twelve-year-old who has Michael’s red hair and the most adorable freckles I’ve ever seen. And I love the way she calls me Aunt Lyn even though we are not related.

  I hug her back and then ask Janie, Michael’s older sister and her mom, “What are you doing here?”

  Oh God, I’m stupid. Duh!

  Janie motions to Amanda. “She had a dream about Michael so she made me bring her here. It’s so nice to see you, Lyn.” She smiles and we hug.

  “Uncle Michael told me I should come visit him,” Amanda says.

  I look at Janie and she shrugs.

  Amanda continues, “He told me I needed to come here and that when I did, I would see my reason.”

  I instantly start shaking. “Amanda, what did you just say?”

  She looks at me funny, rolls her eyes and repeats, “Uncle Michael told me that I should come here and that if I did I would find my reason.”

  My feet are frozen to the spot, my eyes locked on Amanda. Then I slowly look over at Michael’s headstone. I shake my head at it in wonder as song lyrics flash in my mind.

  Be my reason . . .

  My cause, my light

  Be my reason . . .

  My purpose, my life

  ‘Cause baby it was always you

  You’re my reason

  You’ve pulled me through

  Michael didn’t know this song, did he? This is Nate’s song.

  I look back at Amanda and find her looking all around. She looks at the ground, then up at the bench. She walks around his headstone with curious eyes. Then she looks at Janie and says, “I don’t understand it Mom, he told me to come here . . . but the only thing here is Lyn.”

  I look at Michael’s grave. Tears are flowing from my eyes, blurring the perfectly etched dates that define his twenty-eight years on this Earth. I have never been a very spiritual person. I believe things are very black and white. But this—what is happening right now—could this really be . . . ?

  I close my eyes and peace washes over me, through me. Everything I thought I knew to be true is replaced with the realization of what could be. What my life could be if I let the one person in that stole my heart all those years ago. I know it now. I know it for sure. I love Nate. I want him. I want him forever. Even if it means my heart will break one day. Even if he is not perfect. Because I know he isn’t perfect . . . he isn’t a perfect man. But he is the perfect man for me.

  I whirl around and hug Amanda. This child has no idea why I’m crying, smiling, hugging and laughing. She must think I’m crazy. Janie laughs with me and says to Amanda, “Honey, I think you found exactly the reason.” She gives me a wink and whispers in my ear, “One day you’ll tell me what happened here, right?”

  I nod at her. I have to go. I have to find Nate. I quickly say goodbye and turn back to Michael’s grave. I close my eyes and silently thank him. Then I laugh again because this was such a Michael thing . . . always looking out for others. I will always love him.

  As I get into the car, I fish my phone out of my purse. Nine missed calls. There were two from Nate, one early this morning and another a few hours after. The rest were from Emma, my mom and Kaitlyn. I don’t have time to listen to them all. But there are two I have to listen to. I press in my code and listen . . .

  “Brooklyn, where are you? What the hell do you mean you’re sorry? Sorry for what, sleeping with me, sorry for leaving? I just want to talk. Last night was incredible. I know you are scared. Please let me talk to you. Call me back. Please call me back.” He sounded frantic and worried and sad.

  I am such a bitch.

  His second call was hours later. “Brooklyn, I can only assume that since you haven’t called and you didn’t show up for work today that you want nothing more to do with me. Fine. I get it now. Graham will take my place on the job, so I guess you have finally gotten what you wanted. I’m leaving Savannah. I’m getting out of your life. Once and for all.” He pauses for a long time. “But, Brooklyn, when you change your mind. Don’t bother calling me. I’m done.”

  Worried and sad went out the window. He was flat-out pissed. I have ruined everything. My shaking fingers dial Nate. It goes straight to his voice mail—a sure sign he has his phone off. He doesn’t want to hear from me.

  In the car, driving way too fast back to the apartment, I dial Emma. “Lyn,” is all she says and then she is quiet.

  “Emma. I was wrong. So wrong. I can’t explain now, I have to find Nate but he has his phone off. Are you with him? Can you ask him to please get on the phone?” I beg.

  “Lyn.” She blows out a deep breath into the phone. “It’s too late, he is gone.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “He left about fifteen minutes ago,” Emma says. “I told you he was leaving. And what do you mean you were wrong?”

  “I don’t have time to talk. Is he going back to Raleigh? Did he head for the Interstate?” I ask frantically.

  “I guess. Where else would he—”

  I cut her off and throw the phone down. No time for that, I have to concentrate on driving. I’ll apologize to Emma later.

  My phone rings but it is Emma, not Nate. I can tell from the ringtone, so I let it go to voice mail. For the first time, I want to hear that song. Our song. I’m willing it to start playing on my phone.

  If he only left a short while ago, I may be able to catch up to him because I’m closer to the Interstate than he was.

  I make it there in five minutes but I figure he is already ahead of me so I drive much faster than is safe; faster than I’ve ever driven before. I pray that the police are not out this afternoon because that would put a definite stop to my plans to chase him down. His truck will be easy to spot. What am I going to do when I find him, run him off the road? I guess I will if I have to. I have to get his attention. He has to stop and talk to me. I will make him listen.

  Shit. I eye my gas gauge.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The warning light is on. I look up to the sky. Why did this have to happen now? There is an exit just ahead. I will only stop long enough for a few gallons. He can’t be that far ahead of me.

  I pull up to the pump and there is a ‘cash only’ sign. I turn to look in the store and see a long line of people waiting to pay. Oh my God. What else can go wrong?

  I quickly pump in five gallons and fish through my purse for some money while running into the store. I try to think of some reason that could get me to the front of the line. When I’m about to yell ‘fire’, I look out the front window.

  My heart stops. There he is. Nate is pumping gas into his truck right outside the store.

  Thank you, God.

  I get bumped into from behind for holding up the line. I peel my eyes away from Nate just long enough to put my twenty on the counter and tell the clerk to keep the change.

  My legs are trembling so badly that I’m not sure I will be able to walk. I slowly open the door and start to make my way over to him. He hasn’t seen me yet. He is leaning against his truck looking the other way. I see his chest expand while he closes his eyes and tilts his head u
p, and then he releases a long, slow breath. He is shaking his head back and forth. His left hand comes up momentarily rubbing on his tattoo and I wonder if he realizes when he does that. His body language tells the story. He is defeated, broken once again by a woman.

  He finishes pumping, replaces the nozzle and is going for his wallet when our eyes meet. He blinks a few times and then stares at me. “Brooklyn.” He runs his hand through his hair and leans back against his truck, waiting for me to say something.

  I walk the last few steps and position myself right next to him, leaning on the truck as well. I take a deep breath and try to muster up the courage to tell him everything I am thinking. “Nate. I’m sorry—”

  “Yeah, I know, you already said that in your note,” he cuts me off with a sharp bite to his words.

  “Nate, please. Just let me talk. I need to tell you some things.” I close my eyes and reach down deep and then I tell him everything that happened today. I tell him every detail. Right down to what I can only believe was a divine intervention at the cemetery. Well, maybe not every detail. I certainly don’t intend on confessing my love for him here in the middle of a gas station.

  I open my eyes and look over at him. He’s still not talking, but at least he doesn’t look pissed anymore so I continue. “Nate, I’m so sorry I freaked out and left. I know I’ve been difficult. I’ve been a bitch. I’ve not been fair to you at all. You were right about everything. About Michael.” Tears are running down my face and I’m sure I look hideous but I don’t care. “But I’m ready now. I want to be with you. On some level, I’ve always wanted to be with you. Will you please come back home with me?” I reach over and take his hand in mine. “Please?” I beg.

  He looks conflicted. I can tell there is a battle going on inside his head. I only hope that in this war over his heart, I come out the winner. Any other outcome isn’t an option. He doesn’t pull away and he rhythmically rubs his thumb over the back of my hand shooting sparks up my arm. He turns towards me so that we are face to face. “Okay,” he says as a slow smile creeps up his face. “But there will be ground rules.”