True North

by Robin Huber

  By the time I was released to go home, the stitches were gone from Liv’s cheek, but a bright pink line still remained where they’d been. God, it tore me up to look at her and see the constant reminder of what I did...to her, to Brandon...to everyone. She would tell me that it was nothing and that it gave her character, but one time she asked me if I still thought she was pretty because I didn’t look at her the same way anymore. And she was right, I didn’t. But not because I thought she was anything less than beautiful—the kind of beautiful that only comes around once in your lifetime. But because of who I saw reflected in her eyes—the monster everyone said I was. Someone who was capable of scarring her beautiful face and taking her only brother away from her.

  It became harder and harder to be around Liv. I was frail, weak, and angry. And she was hopeful and positive. She was so sure that everything was going to be okay, that I was going to get better, and things would eventually go back to the way they had been. But how could they? How could I? I grew resentful and frustrated with her. The more she talked about our future, the one we’d planned before the accident, the more certain I became that I’d never be able to give it to her.

  I tried to tell her this, to make her understand. But every scenario I presented, she rectified with some impractical solution.

  Liv, I may never be able to tie my shoes again.

  Then I’ll tie them for you.

  I can’t finish college if I can’t solve one damn math problem.

  Then you’ll start your own business. I’ll help you.

  I might not ever be able to drive again.

  Then I’ll be your chauffeur.

  What if I can’t, you know, perform anymore?

  Then I’ll become a nun.

  I laugh softly to myself. That problem certainly didn’t last long. The only thing that got either one of us through the second half of that year was physical intimacy. I was weak, but I always found the strength to be with Liv. In six months, we made up for the five years we’d waited to be together, but it wasn’t enough to save us. We still grew apart.

  All she ever wanted to do was help me, but being around Liv was a constant reminder that, not only did she lose her brother because of me, she was sacrificing her entire future. And I couldn’t live with that. She was so consumed with taking care of me that she couldn’t see her life passing her by. But I could. So, after several more unsuccessful attempts to try to convince her to go, I finally told her that I didn’t love her anymore.

  They were the hardest words I’ve ever said. The biggest lie I’ve ever told. But convincing her it was true meant she could have the life she always wanted. The life she deserved. It wasn’t long before she left for Raleigh, like I hoped she would. But not a day has passed that I haven’t thought of her...that I haven’t missed her.

  I wanted to go see her so many times, and I almost did once. I came so close. But as fate would have it, that was also the day that I had my first seizure. I saw it as a sign to leave Liv alone and not interfere with her life. And I never gave in to those feelings again.

  Still, I’ve thought about her too many times to count over the last seven years. I thought about her finishing college, I thought about her making new friends, I thought about her starting her career after graduation. I even thought about her getting married and having kids one day. Those were all the things I wanted for her. All the things she wanted.

  I don’t know why she asked me to stay today, and I don’t know why I did. Guilt? Fear? Need? All of the above? For a minute, I forgot everything that happened—the accident, the year that followed. I just saw Liv. My Liv.

  My heart didn’t stop pounding the entire time she was here. It’s still pounding away in my ears, and my stomach is twisted into knots. Making small talk with Liv might have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. When we were together, it was like being with my best friend. There wasn’t anything we couldn’t say to each other. There wasn’t anything we didn’t say to each other. Until the end.

  Liv was always so strong, maybe even more so after the accident. I was sure she’d be okay because she was so willful and tenacious and brave. She could have done anything she wanted to do. But the person sitting beside me today was fragile and nervous and...sad. Not the Liv I remember. I thought that maybe she’d be different for a little while after we broke up, but not this many years later.

  I run my hands through my hair and my fingers follow the scar along the side of my head.

  I did that to her. I made her that way.

  I stand up and drop my hand on Brandon’s headstone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of her, brother. But she’s better off without me.”

  Chapter 7

  Liv

  I lace up my running shoes and sneak out of my parents’ house before sunrise. I woke up at three A.M. and couldn’t go back to sleep. Seeing Gabe at the cemetery yesterday really shook me. He’s changed so much more than I expected, reiterating the fact that life continued after I left, and that he got better, at least physically, without me.

  Just like he wanted.

  I get in my car and head to the beach. It tends to have its own healing properties.

  When I pull into the parking lot, it’s empty besides an old Ford F-150 that’s rusted around the bottom. It looks like it used to be white. I’m guessing it belongs to a surfer. I recognize the salt corrosion. They’re usually the only ones out here this early.

  It’s 6:30 and the sun is just starting to glow orange in the sky beyond the sand dunes. When I step out of my car I pause and breathe in the salty sea air. I close my eyes and listen to the rushing sound of the waves crashing in the distance. I brought my ear buds, but I don’t think I’m going to use them. I want the ocean to be my soundtrack this morning. I toss them back in my car and lock the door.

  I jog across the parking lot, feeling like I’m bouncing across the pavement in my running shoes, until I reach the sandy path that leads to the beach. I know that once I’m past the soft sand between the dunes it will be much easier to run, but it’s giving...me...a workout. When I make it to the wide open beach, I’m happy to see that the tide is out and there’s plenty of packed sand to run on.

  The sun is just above the horizon now, throwing its golden reflection on the surface of the ocean all the way up to the shoreline. The sky is amber against the dark blue line of the horizon, but the rest of the sky is electric blue, speckled with small, puffy gray clouds that glow white around the edges.

  I inhale deep, cathartic breaths as I run, letting the ocean air resonate through me, healing me as I go. I feel better with every step. I think about my life in Raleigh—the years I spent just surviving, not moving forward. I may not know exactly what’s next, but I know that this is part of the plan.

  I laugh with my next labored breath, feeling giddy at the thought. My plan, I think again, letting the idea straighten my spine and square my shoulders. I lift my chin and smile. Travis proposing might have been the best thing that could have happened to me. Who knows how much more time I would have wasted in Raleigh if he didn’t get down on one knee.

  This, I think, looking out at the endless horizon, is where I belong. This is my peace, through the turmoil and the heartache and the painful memories. This place—this beautiful, oak-covered, sun-drenched island—is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  I jog a little further until my elated thoughts shift. I’m going to run into Gabe again, it’s inevitable. In fact, I’ll have to see him, if I’m ever going to get any closure. And I have a feeling it’s not going to be any easier than it was yesterday. But—I look around at my sanctuary—it seems like a fair tradeoff.

  I run for another mile or two before I see anyone else on the beach. A couple of surfers are making their way into the water and there’s another jogger in the distance running toward me.

  I have to get a job, I think, making a mental checklist entitled “My Plan.” Scratch that, I want a career. I want to do something I love that won’t chip away at
my soul. I want to edit books. I want to stay up late working on manuscripts until my eyes are bleary and the words run together. I quickly tally the number of publishing houses on the Island and come up with...zero. In fact, I’m fairly certain the nearest one is in Atlanta.

  I’ll freelance. I can do it from anywhere. But I’ll need to build a website for that. And a portfolio. I wipe the first beads of sweat from my forehead and take another quick tally, this time of my finances. I have enough in savings to get started, but I’m going to need that to live off of. Rent doesn’t come cheap on the Island, and apartment buildings are slim pickings, so I’ll probably have to look for a townhouse or a condo. I’d love to rent a beach house, but they’re far too expensive and honestly, much too big. They’re meant to accommodate vacationing families.

  I suppose I’ll have to get a job to pay for my career, at least for a little while. I frown at the thought and keep running.

  The sun is rising faster now, inching its way into the sky. The clouds have cleared and it’s starting to get warm. Sweat is trickling down my back now. I’m tempted to run right into the water, but that would make for a very soggy ride home. At least the breeze is constant, cooling me a little.

  The jogger down the beach is getting closer and I can now make out a man and a dog. The dog keeps running into the water and then back up onto the beach beside him. I can’t make out the details of the man’s face, but he’s wearing a white sleeveless shirt and gray shorts. I can tell that he’s muscular and he looks pretty tan. He must spend a lot of time out here.

  I glance at the horizon and then back at the man, then out at the horizon and back at the man. I watch his dog run into the water again. I think it might be a golden retriever. I try not to stare as we approach each other, but I look up right before we pass and I stop running. “Gabe?” I spin around and run after him.

  “Hey,” he says, keeping his pace, which is much faster than mine. I have to double my strides to keep up with him.

  “Hi,” I huff. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you either. Since when do you run?”

  “I don’t know. Since college.” I glance up at him. His hair is wet from the sweat beading on his face and neck, and there’s more sweat trickling down the middle of his back, soaking through his shirt, which is clinging to the muscles in his back—about all I can see from my position a few inches behind him. I dig my feet into the sand and run faster to keep up with him.

  He glances down at me and whistles for his dog that’s swimming through the surf several yards away.

  “You got a dog?”

  “Yeah.” He keeps his answer short and his eyes out in front of him.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Her name is Roxy.”

  “Oh. That’s a great name,” I pant.

  “It is, but I didn’t name her.”

  I can’t tell if he’s being short with me on purpose or if he’s just trying to stay focused on his run, but it’s an unsettling reminder of the change in his personality from his injury. The old Gabe would have never greeted me with anything less than a beaming smile.

  “She’s a service dog. They named her before I got her,” he explains.

  A service dog?

  “I have seizures,” he says, answering my unspoken question.

  If I had any saliva left in my mouth, I’d try to swallow. My mom told me he had a seizure a few years ago, but I didn’t know that he’s had more. I run in silence, falling slightly behind him again. “I didn’t know,” I say with a winded breath.

  “It’s not a big deal. I take medicine that helps.”

  I try unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in my throat. “Gabe, can you slow down?” He ignores me and keeps his pace, so I dig my feet into the sand harder and ignore the burning in my calves. “Hey, I didn’t mean to take off like that yesterday.”

  He slows down a little, like he wants to listen now.

  “It was just...a lot,” I pant. “It was the first time I’ve been to Brandon’s grave in years and”—I gasp for air—“I wasn’t ready for much else.” I look up at him hoping to convey that I wasn’t ready for him.

  “I know.” He glances down at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry—”

  “I wasn’t ready either. My mom should have told me you were back.”

  Would he have avoided me if she had? I try to ignore the sting of rejection I’ll probably always feel around him and say, “Well, maybe neither of us were ready, but now here we are.” I huff, trying to ignore the burning in my lungs.

  He doesn’t respond, so we run in silence for a few seconds.

  “Gabe, can we just talk about it?” I finally ask, feeling strengthened by the endorphins pumping through my veins. “Can we just get it all out? Because this isn’t the last time we’re going to bump into each other,” I struggle to say. “It’s a small island.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “There’s everything to talk about!”

  “No, Liv, there isn’t. Just leave it alone.”

  “Leave it alone? Seriously?” I slow to a stop and drop my hands to my knees, gasping for air as the burning in my calves radiates up my legs. I need closure, dammit.

  Gabe keeps running.

  “You know, everyone thinks you’ve changed because of your injury,” I shout down the beach. “But the only change I see is that you’ve turned into a jerk!” I yell, feeling overwhelmed with frustration and anger.

  He turns around and jogs back toward me, slowing to a stop a few feet in front of me. He puts his hands on his hips and his chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. “Yeah, well, I’ve been called a lot worse than that. But you’ve probably forgotten,” he says, making new cuts in my heart. He knows I did everything I could to protect him from the awful things people said about him after the accident.

  My eyes prick with tears, but I blink them back. “I hate you,” I say through clenched teeth, fighting a wave of emotion that’s ready to pour out of me.

  “Yeah”—he closes his eyes and opens them again—“that’s what I thought.” He turns around and starts running down the beach again.

  “Gabe,” I shout, but he doesn’t stop this time. “I didn’t mean it,” I whisper to myself as he disappears down the beach.

  * * *

  “Liv, honey, you’re still asleep?” my mom asks, opening the curtains that cover my bedroom window, but I pull the sheet over my face to block the midday sunlight that pours in.

  When I got home from my run, I showered and climbed back into bed, but I haven’t been able to sleep.

  “You missed breakfast and if you don’t get up soon, you’re going to miss lunch too,” she says, sitting on the bed beside me.

  “I don’t care,” I mumble.

  She pulls the sheet off my face. “Liv, what’s the matter?”

  I blink my puffy eyes a few times until they adjust to the light and I see my mom hovered over me with a concerned look on her face.

  “I saw Gabe.”

  “Oh.” She nods her head thoughtfully.

  “Twice, actually.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday at the cemetery. And again this morning.”

  “This morning?”

  “I got up early and went for a run on the beach. You and Daddy were still asleep.”

  “Ah.” She nods and moves the hair out of my face. “Well...it was only a matter of time.”

  “I know. I just thought I’d have a few days to adjust first.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes. But it was...it wasn’t good. It was weird.”

  “Well, honey, that’s probably normal. You have different lives now.”

  I don’t need a reminder.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he has seizures?” I ask.

  “I told you he did.”

  “You told me he had a seizure. Once. Years ago.”

  She sh
akes her head and sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. We just didn’t want you worrying about him.”

  “I’ll always worry about him.” But if I had known he was having seizures regularly, it probably would have made things much harder for me.

  “Yeah.” She knows.

  “Well, did you also forget to mention that he’s huge now?”

  She shrugs. “I guess it’s not that noticeable when you see someone all the time.”

  I nod and pick at my thumbnail. “I called him a jerk...and I told him that I hate him.”

  “Oh, honey, why?”

  “I don’t know, because he was being a jerk.” My eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  “I was just so frustrated.” I sit up and wipe my eyes. “He wouldn’t talk to me about what happened. He told me to leave it alone. And I get it, it’s not easy to talk about. But I need to talk about it, or it’s going to eat me alive.” I shake my head, blinking back more tears. “You were right, Momma, he’s not the same. He was never the same after the accident.”

  “Oh, Liv.” She pulls me into a hug.

  “I was afraid to talk to him at first, at the cemetery. I wasn’t expecting to see him there and the thought of rehashing our last days together made me want to run and hide. But I feel like that’s all I’ve done since the moment he told me he didn’t love me anymore.” I sit back and wipe my eyes. “I just ran from the truth, I guess. But I’m done running and I am not going to hide anymore. I want a fresh start here and I don’t think I’m going to get that until I get some closure with him.”

  “Liv... Gabe”—she presses her lips together—“he’s been through a lot.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “I’m not just talking about his recovery. Though, Lord knows he’s had some mountains to climb. I’m talking about the emotional and mental damage he’s endured. The kind physical therapy couldn’t fix. I know he looks better, but the last few years haven’t been easy on him. His whole world changed. And I know yours did too. So did mine. But he took the brunt of it, baby. I just don’t think he’ll ever be the same Gabe we knew before the accident.”