Better

by Carey Heywood

  I’m more emotional than I have been the last few times I spread her ashes because I know I’ll be finished soon. I’m not ready to really say good-bye to her.

  When we get back to the Albertos’ apartment, we do laundry, and when Raul gets home from work, we walk to a local restaurant. I’ve started trying different foods along the way with Adam. I still have a fairly bland palate in comparison to him, but when I like something that I didn’t think I would, he smiles every time.

  It’s late when we get back to the apartment. We didn’t eat dinner until nine that night. Adam and I aren’t tired though. We stay up, later than we should, enjoying each other.

  I wore a short dress tonight. Adam doesn’t even bother getting me out of it once we’re alone in our room. He simply pushes himself inside me. His impatience makes me feel powerful.

  I know he wants me and is turned on by my nakedness. It thrills me that even covered up, he has to have me. He’s frantic in the way he takes me. Normally, I can match his tempo, but tonight, I just hold on to him. It’s fast and hard and thrilling, but when he finds his release, my body is still moments away from mine. He knows.

  Afterward, he slowly undresses me and makes up for that, over and over. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he pushes inside me once more. His earlier attention leaves my flesh primed. I’m lost in an ocean of him. When the waves crash over me, more powerful this time than any previous, I drag him under with me.

  He props himself over me with his arms, and we stare at each other. He sinks down onto me, turning me, so we’re on our sides, facing each other.

  He reaches up to brush some hair off my face, his hand coming back to hold my cheek. “What are you doing to me?”

  It’s more a statement than a question.

  Even though it’s winter in Brazil, it’s still warm enough to go to the beach the next day. Constance takes us to Ipanema Beach. This is the first time Adam sees me in a bikini. He smooths sunblock over my skin. I thrill in returning the favor, seeing the looks other beachgoers give him. We lay out for most of the afternoon.

  We return to the apartment to shower before our flight. Constance is more sentimental at my leaving than I expected. I can see she misses my mother. Now that my father is easing into retirement and once I’m home, I can talk my parents into visiting Rio themselves.

  Adam and I have another long evening flight. The sun wore me out, so I don’t have a problem sleeping on this flight. We fly to Miami. It’s odd to be in the States again. This is our stopover as there were no direct flights to the island.

  We land at midday in St. Martin. A car takes us to the resort. Again, we have rooms with a connecting door. After we started sharing a bed, Adam wanted to cancel the extra rooms for the rest of the trip. I stopped him. It’s silly, but I don’t want my parents finding out that way. Since all the travel arrangements are on my dad’s credit card, it’s better to say nothing.

  The walls are white, and golden brown furniture with rattan inserts fill the room. I step out of my shoes and onto the cool blue tiled floor. The tiles match the bedding and accents.

  As pretty as the room is, it’s the view that captivates me. A sliding double door leads out to a small patio with privacy walls on each side. The ocean is right there, just steps from the patio. I open the door and move out onto it, the ocean breeze on my face. Adam follows, standing behind me, his arms around my waist.

  It’s good to be on our own again. We change into our suits and go straight to the beach. The ocean water is warm but still refreshing. In Brazil, we did nothing more than get our feet wet. Here, we swim. We play like children, splashing and dunking each other. We’re soon exhausted. We rinse off in the outdoor shower before napping away most of the afternoon.

  I surprise Adam that night by ordering a buttered tilapia for dinner. He says nothing but watches me intently as I take my first bite. I know he’s waiting for a reaction, something to let him know if I like it or not.

  I lift my napkin, daintily dabbing the corners of my mouth, before dropping it back in my lap and leaning toward him. “Absolutely delicious.”

  He bites into his king-sized shrimp with gusto. “Alfredo next.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the thought, and he laughs.

  “First girl who’s ever turned down my alfredo,” he jokes, raising one brow.

  “It’s not like you made it. It was takeout,” I argue.

  “Interesting. Would you have eaten some if I’d made it?”

  I shake my head and take another bite.

  After dinner, we share an ice cream sundae. Adam holds the cherry out for me. I keep my eyes on him as I close my lips around it. His breath hitches as he watches me.

  That night, we make love with the patio door open, our bodies matching the break of the waves hitting the shore. It’s after midnight and already our last full day together. I hope the darkness of our room hides the tears slipping from my eyes.

  I awake before Adam the next morning. I don’t need the small plastic box this time. I cradle the beautifully carved wooden box that holds my best friend and go outside. I sit with her in the sand. My legs are crossed. Her box sits on my lap.

  I watch the sunrise bleed orange into the ocean as it slowly makes its ascent. The void within me, left by her passing, hits me all over again. She wanted me to take this journey, so I could grow and find out who I am. The only things I’m sure of are that I miss her more now than I did when I started, and I know tomorrow I’ll say good-bye to the man I love.

  I press the box to my chest, its corners digging into me. It’s not designed to be held. It’s made to hold something. I sob as I open the lid. I blink and peer into the box, not believing she’s almost gone.

  Before I can talk myself out of it and hold on to her a bit longer, I tilt the box and spill her ashes in the sand in front of me. Her ashes mix right into the white sand so quickly that I flex my fingers in the spot. It’s as if I’ve lost her all over again.

  I pull my knees to my chest, drop my head, and cry. I startle when strong arms wrap around me. Adam must have woken up to find me gone, and he went off in search of me. He didn’t need to go far. I’m steps away from our patio. He holds me as I mourn Ally.

  “Shh, I’m here,” he says, holding me tightly.

  He picks me and the box up and carries me back to our room, setting the now empty box on the table beside me. He closes the sliding door to the patio and pulls the shades, darkening the room before coming back to our bed. Then, he just holds me.

  I mourn the presence of Ally in my life. I mourn the fact that she never had a child of her own. I mourn the wedding she never had. I mourn the trip she didn’t get to take, and I mourn not being able to talk to her about Adam.

  When I’m finally cried out, Adam dries my face. I reach out for him. I am empty. I need him to fill me. His touch reawakens me and pulls me past my grief.

  We don’t stray far from our room that day. The only things in our world are the sand, the sun, the surf, and each other. We’re saying good-bye tomorrow.

  Time doesn’t slow for us. The purples and blues of the sun’s descent fill the sky. It’s our last night together, and I still don’t even know if he’s going to miss me when I’m gone. I know I’ll miss him. I try not to think about it. I can’t imagine a day without him in it.

  We’re quiet over dinner. While the guests around us party, we hardly eat. He stretches his arm across the table, reaching for my hand, like he’s trying to get as much of my touch while he still can.

  After dinner, we slowly walk back to our room. The beach is lit up by the resort. Somehow, the black of the sky is a shade lighter than the darkness of the ocean, allowing me to differentiate between them. I try to focus on anything other than the fact that this is our last night together. Adam’s different too, tense. He fills the night with random words, almost as if the silence scares him.

  I listen, dazed, as he speaks about some of his previous trips. After an hour, I tug him inside, realizing what he�
�s doing. He’s delaying our going to bed. He’s using his stories to stay awake to avoid the night ending. As much as I love hearing about his travels, I kiss him to silence him.

  I want to stay awake, feeling his heart beating against mine. I need to lose myself in him again. When my lips touch his, he knows.

  Tonight, I shake in his arms and wait for him to tell me how he feels about me. I wait all night for words that never come.

  We have the same flight back to the States, stopping in Miami. From there, Adam will fly to New York, and I will go to California.

  We make love one last time that morning. I should tell him that I love him right then, but I’m scared that he doesn’t love me back. As long as I don’t know, I can always hope that he does.

  From the hotel to the airport, he only lets go of my hand once to go to the gift shop. Our plane to Miami is small, two seats on one side and only one seat on the other side of the aisle.

  I have the window seat. I blink away the tears I don’t want him to see as I watch the island disappear from view. Our flight is three hours. He pushes the armrest between us up, and we hold each other the whole flight. I want to memorize his scent, the texture of his fingertips, and the curve of his lips.

  Our connecting flights are in different directions. We stand at the halfway point, his hand on my cheek, as he kisses me good-bye.

  People bustle all around us, but I only see Adam. I know I’ll lose it at my gate, but I hold it together, not wanting him to see me cry.

  His flight is leaving an hour after mine. When my flight is boarding, he presses a bag into my hands. I start to open it, but he stops me, telling me to wait until I’m on my plane. He presses one last hard kiss against my lips, and then he leaves. I watch until his figure is swallowed up by the mass of moving souls.

  I sleepwalk to my gate, clutching the bag he gave me. I think of Ally and how my falling for Adam clouded what she wanted this trip to be for me. I know right then that I’m going back to school. As scared as I am to live away from home, I know I need to do that too.

  I avoid thinking about Adam as I figure out the next steps I will take with my life. I need to move out even if I just rent a room. I’ll have to get a job first. Maybe I can temp or waitress. These thoughts help me hold myself together.

  When the time comes, I board and find my seat. I buckle my belt and then open the bag. I can see the glint of a charm, and I shake the contents of the bag into my hand. There are two charms. The first is a simple palm tree to symbolize our tropical island stay, and the second is a painted heart. My hand closes around it, and I press my fist to my heart, covering it with my other hand.

  He gave me a heart. His heart? Why didn’t he let me open it in front of him? I have two hours and thirty-five minutes until my flight lands in Houston to think about what it means.

  I struggle over the decisions I just made at the gate, ready to throw them all away to run after Adam, when it hits me. All Ally ever wanted was for me to find myself and be happy. She wouldn’t have wanted me to ignore my heart and be alone.

  When I land, I call him. He won’t get my message until he lands, but even if I never speak to him again, even if he doesn’t feel the same way, I have to tell him I love him.

  “This is Adam. Leave a message.”

  I choke back the sob that threatens just from hearing his voice again. “Adam, it’s Aubrey. I just had to”—I gulp—“tell you I love you.”

  I tell him I haven’t always loved him. In the beginning, I truly thought he was a jerk. It was over our journey together that my feelings for him changed. I explain that what kept me from saying anything was not knowing if he feels anything more for me.

  I have a mild panic attack after sending that message. I put myself out there, and I have no way of knowing if I’ll even get a response.

  I toy with the bracelet on my wrist, my finger smoothing over the red paint of his heart. I stalk my phone, waiting for a response from him, even though I know he’s still in the air. My frustration mounts when my flight out of Houston is delayed. I call my parents to let them know, and I drown my misery in a greasy slice of pizza.

  My delay ends up being not one but two hours. It kills me when I realize Adam should have landed by now and didn’t call me. I’m dejected when I board my flight. I have been on the trip of a lifetime, and I’ve seen so many amazing things.

  I’m unexpectedly angry with Ally. All those years ago, when we made her Better board, she was well enough to travel. She could have taken this trip. Instead, she waited for this concept of being better before she would allow herself to go. What did that get her? Nothing. It got her nothing.

  She stayed in California, dreaming of a trip she would never take, right until the end. I have done the same thing. I should have told Adam that I loved him while I had the chance. Instead, I wimped out and left him a voice mail.

  Four hours later, I land in Sacramento. I’m tired. I’m hearthurt, and I have to pee so bad when I get off that plane. I’m readjusting the strap on my backpack when a figure steps right in front of me. I try to move around him in search of my parents.

  When he moves to block my path again, I look up at him with a glare. I don’t know how or why, but Adam is right in front of me. My mouth drops, and I launch myself into his arms.

  “How are you here?” I ask against his lips, needing to kiss him as much as I need to ask that question.

  With his arms tightly wrapped around me, he pulls his face away to smile down at me. “I take it you’re happy to see me.”

  I nod, smiling. “But how?”

  “I changed my flight. Had a stop in Minneapolis, but your flight’s delay saved me.”

  “I was so annoyed with that delay.”

  “I’ll bet.” He slowly lowers me to the ground. “Wanna introduce me to your parents now?”

  My mouth drops, and I look around until I see them sitting at a coffee kiosk. I tug Adam over toward them while they stand and meet us halfway.

  “Mom! Dad! I missed you guys so much,” I say, hugging them.

  We stand there awkwardly for a moment until my dad says, “And this is Adam?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Adam Burke. Adam, this is my mom and dad.”

  They shake hands, my father clearly appraising him.

  I turn to Adam, linking my fingers through his. “Where are you staying? How long are you staying?”

  “I know a guy who lives in Rancho Cordova. I thought I’d stay at his place.”

  I look at my parents, wondering if maybe they’d offer to let Adam stay with us, and then I think better of it. This is clearly happening way too fast for them.

  Adam already has his luggage, so we all walk together to get mine. While we wait for it, my mom invites Adam to come back to the house with us, and then after dinner, I can drive him to his friend’s house.

  When we get to my house, Adam sets up his laptop, so my parents can scroll through all the pictures he took while we go and talk in my backyard.

  “What are we doing?” I ask, sinking into my swing.

  He sits on the ground in front of me, holding then releasing my feet, as I slowly swing back and forth. “I want to be with you, Aubrey—if you want that too. We just need to figure out where that will be.”

  “You’d move for me?”

  He lifts my captured foot to kiss my ankle. “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Or I could move to New York.” I ease off the swing and onto his lap.

  “Is that what you’d want?” He loops his arms around my waist.

  “You already have a place and a job there. It makes the most sense.”

  “I don’t want to take you away from your home.” He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.

  I lean in to kiss him. “You can be my home.”

  Twelve Months Later

  “Honey, I’m home,” I call out, kicking the door shut behind me, cringing at the boom it makes.

  I’m still working on g
etting our neighbor, Mr. Wiltshire, to like me. He isn’t a fan of loud noises.

  Adam walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. I lose my appetite for the takeout I’m carrying, hungry for him instead. I drop it on the counter before pulling his face down to mine for a kiss.

  “You naked, me bed,” he commands, pulling away to lower our Murphy bed.

  Considering the chill in the air, I have lots of layers to deal with. He gets tired of waiting for me, and he starts helping me undress. We tumble onto our bed moments later. The thought still thrills me—our bed, in our apartment.

  I moved in with him one week after he met me in Sacramento. My parents adored him and got as used to the idea of me living across the country as they had when they thought I was going to Yale.

  Now, I work in a no-kill animal shelter. Adam still loves me even though he makes me shower first on the days I come home smelling like a wet dog. I’ve also gone back to school. I’m studying to be a veterinarian’s assistant. I’m trying to talk Adam into getting a pet. Our place is too small for a dog so I’ve been hinting at how cute I think the kittens at the shelter are.

  I’m also tweeting now. On Adam’s account he mainly just posts pictures while I use my one hundred and forty characters to describe the sights I’ve seen. Together we went through all of Adam’s pictures to pick out some shots to frame and add to the walls of our apartment. It was then I realized he somehow captured each moment I said good-bye. Together, we made an album just of those moments for my parents.

  When we flew out to visit them it was his gift to them. Funnily, any talk of us rushing stopped shortly afterward. During that trip—through pictures, cards, and old videos—he really got to meet my Ally. We also took a drive with my parents out to the Golden Gate Bridge. There, with my mom and my dad, we scattered the rest of her ashes.

  Somehow, it comforts me, knowing that no matter where I go in the world, she’s already there.

  Adam and I have gone on only one trip overseas since I moved in with him. We went to Moscow. Adam was in heaven while visiting all of the old buildings and churches.