Young Love

by Alyson Santos

  Chapter 0 – 18 = -18

  People talk about voids like they’re the lack of something, but I know better. Voids aren’t caused by lack, but by loss. You can’t feel the pain of something you didn’t once know. The smell of a certain shampoo still lingering on a towel doesn’t cause a deep lurch in your stomach unless you’ve smelled that scent on dark, wavy hair. Until you’ve seen it lather and drain through fingers that could make you come apart and knit back together in the most incredible way. Voids are empty spaces in closets, and that dreaded extra spot now available in the driveway.

  Voids are deceptive. Sometimes they hide by manifesting themselves in the opposite way as well. That box of cereal that no longer belongs in your cabinet because you’d never eat it. The pack of guitar picks on the dresser that you’ll never use. The video game system you’ll never play again. Voids everywhere, seen and unseen, obvious and deadly in their ability to sneak up and attack at the most unexpected times in unexpected places. A business card that falls out of your purse when you go to pay for your half gallon of milk.

  Cumberland Borough Martial Arts. Character, strength, courage.

  I reach for the card and pull it reverently off the dusty supermarket floor. Hold it in my hand as I collect my bags and walk them to the car. Cling to it on the drive home, tears streaming down my cheeks because after two weeks of voids I still see no signs that it won’t hurt so much. That you can survive the kind of loss that makes your world turn black and dull.

  We’d agreed not to contact each other. It would just make things harder. Better to rip off the Band-Aid. So wise we were. So hopeful it would make a shred of difference in easing the pain. What a joke. Especially since that promise doesn’t stop me from checking my phone every fifteen seconds for some sign that he broke before I did. I’d do anything to see his name on my screen, to feel that flutter of connection and brief second of reprieve from this torment. But he doesn’t break. I don’t either. No, we’re strong because love is sacrifice, and love is letting go.

  Chapter 0 – 19 = -19

  It’s five weeks before the first reprieve. My phone ignites with a picture, and I nearly trip on my elliptical. There they are, two boys who are no longer mine, staring back at me with huge grins on their faces. The smaller one holds up a red belt. A laughing-sob rushes out.

  No caption, no words, just this reminder that I’m not forgotten. That this proud moment belongs to me as well. I trace Jace’s smile with my finger. He looks happy. At least, not like he lives in the same dark fog of my existence. I bring the back of my hand to my mouth covering a half cry, half smile.

  Thank you. Congratulations, Aiden, I type back. I see it’s read but there’s no response and my tears become painful clenches in my chest.

  Voids.

  The lies we tell to protect ourselves are strong. With Jace gone, I pretend it’s possible to go back to the black and white security I valued before him. I pour myself into work, my safety net of numbers. They no longer hold the power they used to but it’s enough to distract my brain and trick it into continuing to function.

  Treadmill. Office. Lunch. Office. Elliptical. Office. Run. Office. Work, that’s my new drug. Work my body. Work my mind. Work every piece of me until I don’t have the energy to grieve. Shower to rinse, wash, and repeat the next day.

  And the next. And the next.

  Week one. Week two. Week three.

  By week four I’m a robotic beast, pushing, pushing, pushing not in pursuit but to escape. Jace would be horrified to find me hiding in the safety of my prison. But he’s not here, only proving further that maybe he’s wrong. Maybe I can survive the last forty years of my life like this. Survive. People go to their deathbeds with far less to show than I’ve racked up in a few decades. I stepped out into the gray to find color and look where it got me? A pain so intense even my numbers can’t soothe it.

  Numbers may not own me anymore, but I still own them. My sudden obsession means that in less than two months, I nearly double my client list. I start developing new spreadsheets, this time for my own business. Plans for expansion, hiring an assistant, and maybe even finding an actual office space to lease. If I’m going to commit to a prison, I might as well dress it up.

  By month three, my escape is forming into a solid vision. It’s a good plan, safe and easy. It’s progress and success that my mother can brag about to her bridge club. It secures my financial future and no one calls me foolish anymore. No one looks down on me or whispers behind my back when I go out. The rules are there for a reason. Jace will learn that too one day, and maybe part of me is relieved I won’t be there to see him shattered when he does.

  Lies.

  Work. Rinse. Repeat.

  Because no matter how strong the denial, that voice keeps screaming at me somewhere deep. What do you want? Who are you, Sienna Porter?

  Good with numbers. There’s nothing wrong with that.

  It becomes a game to shut it out. How long can I distract myself from the pointless what ifs that haunted me for the brief window I was with Jace? The absurd answers to questions I never should have let myself ask. Black Belt, ha! I’ve become good at smirking to cover the aches of future regrets.

  Musician?

  Wife?

  Mother?

  Smirk. Smirk. Smirk.

  “Thanks, Bob. I’ll get back to you with a proposal.”

  I hang up and type more notes from our discussion. This could be a huge account for me. Bob Reichart owns several appliance stores and hasn’t been able to adapt to the changing market. With the longevity of his third-generation business and the local power of his name, he could have quite the retail empire on his hands if he plays his cards right. I make more notes.

  My gaze drifts to the window on instinct, but there’s nothing there except neighboring roofs now. I moved my office space upstairs a month ago, tired of the stomach clench every time instinct sent my attention to the driveway. Amazing how ghosts haunt even in glaring sunlight.

  Where was I? Right. Marketing strategies.

  I type the heading into my document. What else? It was right there a second ago. Crap.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and tap my fingers lightly on the keys. We don’t know if he’ll need investors or a loan yet so what else? Balance sheet, I’ll need that. He’ll have a serious inventory asset number on there. Let’s hope the liabilities aren’t out of whack.

  I sigh and shove back from my desk. It’s been hours since my last break, no wonder I can’t focus. A walk would be nice and just what I need to reset. I slip my sneakers on and grab a jacket.

  The crisp air of fall has begun to blow through the leaves and paint them in the vibrant colors of death. Reds, oranges, yellows, it always baffled me that trees would display their finest beauty at the end of their lives rather than the beginning.

  I venture further than normal today, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air. My music is cranked and blasting through my headphones in a soundtrack that keeps my feet moving at an energetic pace.

  Until I stop cold.

  There, three blocks from my house, is a child’s birthday party. A cluster of adults hold plastic cups and chat while at least a dozen kids shriek and laugh throughout the yard. But it’s not the screaming children or the moon bounce that captures my awareness. No, it’s something stronger, older.

  Those damn pheromones that plagued me since day one jump into action and instinctively home in on one particular chaperone. He’s younger than the others, but no less adult. Does he sense my presence as well? He must when he looks up from his conversation with another parent and freezes. Eyes locked on me, fist clenched around his drink, he stares as if believing and doubting at the same time. I force a smile and wave. My insides drop when he turns back to the other woman and says something, but just as quickly flutter into repair when he sets his cup on a table and exits the yard.

  My pulse races as he jogs toward me, covering the distance in more than a walk but not quite a run. I’m afraid to move. Af
raid I’ll disrupt whatever cosmic balance is allowing us this moment.

  “Sienna, hi,” he says, pulling to a stop in front of me. He starts moving away from the party, and I follow on instinct.

  “Hey, how are you?” The tremble in my voice screams how much I miss him.

  He reads me like the open book that I was to him.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” His smile. How can he smile? Wait, am I smiling? I can’t tell. Everything is numb and shouting at the same time.

  I swallow. “So, a birthday party?”

  He nods. “One of Aiden’s classmates.”

  “How fun.” I clear my throat. “Thanks for the picture. He got his red belt.”

  “He did. He insisted on sending that.”

  “Ah. So that was from him, not you.”

  He looks away. I regret my joke.

  “You know I’d message you every second of every day if I could,” he says quietly.

  My chest heaves. “You’re not seeing anyone else?”

  His gaze snaps to mine. “Of course not.” A secret works across his face. My soul pleads for it, but he tucks it away. “Anyway, I should get back. Just wanted to say hi.”

  My eyes clench shut. I can’t say goodbye when I look at him. They rush back open. I can’t not look at him. “Jace?”

  “Yeah?” He turns around, waits, aqua eyes melting me, holding me, warning me not kill us both.

  “I’m not seeing anyone either.”

  A muscle moves in his jaw. I take stock of everything about him in that moment. His hair is a little longer, his shirt even tighter over firm muscle. He has a new tattoo. Without thinking I grab his wrist to study the design on his forearm.

  Don’t hold back.

  Tears sting my eyes as I gently trace the letters intertwined with the silhouette of a figure doing some kind of jump kick.

  Don’t hold back. Except that’s all he does. That’s his entire existence, holding back every amazing thing he is for someone else. He holds back for Aiden, for me. Sacrificing everything because his prison isn’t a choice. And yet, somehow, he still finds ways to break free. To lose himself in the color of his music, marital arts, and pursuing rather than hiding. Despite his chains, he will never be trapped the way I am.

  And it’s then, right there on a quiet street, a few houses from a stranger’s birthday party that I get it. After almost thirty-nine years, the color bursts through and beckons with a cry I can no longer ignore.

  “… All you have to do is be brave enough to do it.”

  What’s holding you back, Sienna Porter?

  I squeeze his hand. Everything in me wants to bring his fingers to my lips, but once I start I won’t be able to stop. No, I can love him in a different way. The only way that’s safe for both of us. I can love him by letting go and stop living in my lies. Step out of my prison and be brave enough to go after the beautiful colors of fall in the years I have left.

  “I still love you,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you for touching my life.”

  Speechless, he stands paralyzed as I back away and return him to the life he has to live while I pursue the one I want.

  I don’t turn around again. I can’t let him see my tears and how they contrast with the sudden strange smile on my face.

  Don’t hold back.

  I won’t, Jace. I won’t.

  Chapter 0 – 20 = -20

  My first call is to a martial arts school by my dentist that I’ve been eyeing. I explain my interest, and the man on the phone invites me in for a tour. When I arrive for my visit, I’m struck by the familiar feel of this school, even though I’ve never been inside. Although the uniforms and basic mat setup are different, there’s no denying the same encouraging smile of the man at the desk who remembers me from the phone. He signals an instructor on the mat who hands the class over to someone else.

  “Sensei Stan, this is Sienna Porter. She’s interested in our adult classes.”

  The young man smiles and shakes my hand. “Great. Do you have any experience in Kyokushin Kai Karate?”

  “Um, not really, but I have a good friend who’s a 3rd Degree Black Belt so I’ve seen a lot.”

  “Okay, that’s not a problem at all. We have several mature students at this school. We also offer flexible classes for our adults because we know how busy you are.”

  I nod, appreciating everything I’m hearing. “That sounds great. I’d love to come by and try it out.”

  He glances at the clock on the wall. “Actually, we’re about to start the all ranks adult class in ten minutes. Would you like to stick around tonight?”

  Surprised, I glance between the two of them. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. See if you like it. If so, we can get you registered afterwards.”

  Excitement mounts at the prospect. Other adults have already started arriving, and I watch them chat and line up in their uniforms. Some are older, some younger. They have white belts, yellow belts, orange, green, red, and blue. They all look excited and determined, sporting expressions I crave. Not one looks out of place or gripped by can’t.

  “Sure, I’ll stay.”

  “Awesome. You can go ahead and put your shoes and purse on the shelves over there. Don’t worry about keeping up. Just do your best to follow along.”

  I nod, heart racing with anticipation and nerves as I slip off my shoes, grateful I’m wearing my typical workout uniform.

  “Hi, I’m Kristin.”

  I straighten to meet the warm smile of a woman about my age. I return it.

  “I’m Sienna.”

  “Is this your first class?”

  “It’s that obvious, huh.”

  She motions toward my attire. “No uniform. Plus, I haven’t seen you before.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m trying it out tonight.”

  Her face practically glows with excitement. “Yes! You’re going to love it. It’ll be great to have another woman our age in class as well.”

  Is there such thing as love at first sight for friends? Kristin waves me in after her when our sensei calls for the adult class. She points me to a spot in the back row with a giant encouraging smile that helps settle some of my nerves. I take my place and bounce lightly on the mat. It’s softer than I thought it’d be, cool against my bare toes. I wiggle them, enjoying the sensation.

  We bow and warm up with a few simple cardio exercises, followed by light stretching. I wobble here and there but manage to stay upright throughout the routine.

  “Defensive stance,” Sensai Stan shouts.

  “Yes, sir!” we return in unison, and I love his look of surprise when I take the proper form.

  With a subtle nod, he focuses back on the class and barks out the name of a kick. After demonstrating slowly, probably for my benefit, we begin to follow his count—a number sequence I know well.

  Ichi. Ni. San. Shi…

  A spark ignites inside me, this feeling of empowerment, of being proud of myself. Exhilaration from finally doing something for no one but myself. It’s incredible, this pursuit of something I’ve been wanting. To realize that maybe I can be one of those people, after all.

  This could be addictive, I think as I mimic the next movement.

  I’m able to keep up better than I thought as the class goes on. The environment is supportive with plenty of extra patience for me.

  “What’d you think?” Kristin asks while we gather our belongings after we’re dismissed.

  “It was great. I definitely want to come back.”

  “Really? Yay! I’m so excited.”

  Me too. Kristin may never know how inspiring her encouragement is.

  “We have a new student. You be nice to her!” she says to Jake as we approach the desk.

  “I’m always nice. Get out of here. Class is over,” he teases back.

  She and I exchange an amused smile and wave. “See you soon!” she calls on her way toward the exit.

  “So you’re interested in coming back?” Jake asks me. />
  “Absolutely. What do I have to do to register?”

  “Fantastic.” He waves me to the chair behind him.

  I fill out the paperwork while he answers my remaining questions and explains the details of the program. “You’re welcome to come to any of the adult classes. We offer one each night at seven.”

  I nod. “That’s perfect. I’ll probably be attending Wednesday and Thursday.”

  “Oh yeah?” He spins his chair around to face me. “Then you’ll be taking class with me as well.”

  “You’re a sensei?”

  “Deshi Jake,” he says with a grin and offers his hand. “Happy to have you join us. Let’s grab you a uniform.”

  It doesn’t take long for my excitement for class to bleed into my home workouts as well. I start running and training for a purpose instead of an escape, picturing Jace fighting his way through that black belt test every time I start to drag. Goals are a strong motivator, much stronger than distraction.

  So are friends. Three weeks in, I learn Kristin lives on my street. We start jogging together a few times a week, and hanging out beyond that. Her kids are in college, so we have plenty of time for bonding and training. Kristin introduces Jocelyn, who invites Alexa, and soon we have a small club of women who want to live in the color also. When I earn my high white belt two months after starting, the smirk disappears. When I earn my yellow, I stop asking what if and switch to when.

  “What are you doing July 12-18?” Kristin asks on our way back to my place after catching a movie.

  I cast her a quick glance in the passenger seat. “Why?”

  She shrugs, grinning. “I dunno. Just… maybe we got a great deal on a cruise?

  A laugh rushes out before I can stop it. “A cruise? You all just decided to go on a cruise?”

  “Uh yeah. And you’re going with us.”

  “But…” I stop my instinctive rebuttal. The idea excites me and I have plenty of funds saved up. Why not go on a cruise with friends? “I’ll check my calendar when we get back. Sounds fun.”