What kind of a person does that?”
I squeeze his hand. “One who is hurting.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Tears leave his voice raspy, and I wish I knew what to say. “I wish you had come to me about the party, Skye. Yeah, I might have freaked, but at least you wouldn’t have been so alone.”
I cringe, shaken by seeing Devin like this. He used to be my rock, but now he seems so unsure. “I knew I’d made a mistake, but I was too stubborn to admit it. I was humiliated, Tyler seemed invincible, and I thought you’d see me as someone who’d asked for it.”
He puls me to him and I rest my head on his shoulder.
“God, Skye, nobody asks for that. The only thing you ever wanted was to be loved. It’s a good thing he’s in jail, for his sake. Stil, I didn’t make it easy for you to talk, did I?”
“I’ve made my share of mistakes, Devin. I lied to my mom, and I made a choice I’m stil trying to accept. As much as you want to protect me, you can’t, not realy. I have to do this on my own. Parts of me are broken, and it’s going to take time, but it’s not your fault. You made the best choices you could based on what you knew. I should have filed in the blanks better.”
He cradles my hand between his. “It doesn’t matter if it’s not my fault. What happened is never going to go away, and al I know is that one day things seem fine and the next, the world is crazy. What made things happen like that? I used to believe that life works itself out for the best. Now I don’t. It’s al a gamble, and even when you think you’re doing the right thing, it can hurt somebody, and there’s no guarantee that something bad isn’t going to change your life forever.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “The paramedics told me I found you with about five minutes to spare. What happens in five minutes, Skye?” He sits up and looks at me, tears streaming down his face. “It’s how long it takes to walk through the lunch line or get to class. It’s how long it takes to walk from my house to yours.” He swalows hard, his lips parting but the words catch in his throat until he finaly manages to speak in a sandpapered voice. “It’s al the time it takes for you to….” his voice tapers away, and he clutches my hand.
“I’m here,” I say, wiping his tears. “I’m not the same Skye, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I’l be less angry and more hopeful.” I kneel before him and press my forehead to his. “I know I scared you. I scared me, too. But it’s going to be okay, Devin.” Imagine me having this conversation—me, the eternal pessimist, and Devin, the eternal optimist. Now the roles are reversed. “This doesn’t have to change how you see the world, Devin. It’s bad, but it’s not something we can’t get past.”
“It does change it, Skye,” he argues. “I saw what Tyler and Becca did to you. I knew they were cruel, but that wasn’t simple cruelty. It was something that almost destroyed you. And I played a part in it by judging you.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Bethany told me I was being too hard on you, that everyone makes mistakes. I should’ve listened. I just keep thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten there. I dream about it, Skye—I walk in and do CPR, but I can’t get you to breathe. The EMT’s pul me away and throw a sheet over you. Then I wake up and remind myself it’s a dream, and it’s over until the next one.” He stands and paces. “I just wish I never had to sleep again.”
It is then I realize just how much Devin has changed, how much loving me has changed him, and I want to go back in time, not just for me but for him, and erase this year. I want to be the old Skye and fal in love with him, but I can’t. The best I can do is offer this new person as a poor substitute. She is not nearly as naive, her heart has been broken, and she doesn’t have a clue how to fix anything. She just has the desire to fix something, and maybe that’s enough for both of us.
I look around the room at the mountain of boxes and think about loading them, but I take Devin’s hand instead. “Come on.”
His troubled eyes meet mine. “Where are we going?”
“I know this great trampoline that hasn’t been used in months.” I start to pul him toward the doorway.
“Skye, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Then let me help.” I thread my fingers around his and lead him outside. As we sit on the trampoline’s edge tugging off our shoes, I see a darkness in Devin’s eyes I’m not sure how to ease, but I know if I look in the mirror, it matches my own.
In life, there seem to be a whole lot of people who wil hurt you, and there’re some who’l save you, but there is a handful who wil teach you how to save yourself so you can help others. I don’t know that I’m the right person to save Devin, or even if I can. But I do believe that together we are stronger, and maybe when we can finaly accept the past as it happened, we’l be able to let go of the darkness. Neither of us is sure what the future holds, but I’m hoping whatever it is, there’l always be the trampoline.
About the Author
Maria Rachel Hooley is the author of over twenty novels, including the Sojourner series, New Life Inc., and When Angels Cry. Her work has been featured in numerous publications such as Green Hills Literary Lantern, Westview , and Kimera. She has written over twenty novels in numerous genres. Her first chapbook of poetry, A Different Song, was published by Rose Rock Press in 1999. She is a high school teacher and lives in Oklahoma with husband and three children. You can view more of her work at www.mariarachelhooley.com.
Summer Sunsets
(October Breezes 2)
Chapters 1 & 2
By
Maria Rachel Hooley
Chapter One
It’s been almost two years since I saw Skye Wiliams. Two years. Now, standing in my dorm room for the last time, I look around. The wals are bare, with plenty of nail holes to mark how many pictures I’ve tacked up—more than a few of growing up with her. Just because she’s never been to the University of North Carolina doesn’t mean she’s never been here…if you know what I mean. There hasn’t been a day gone by I haven’t kept some part of her with me.
I sit on the bed and stare at an empty room just waiting for its next student, and part of me is ready to give it up. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my five years here, but I know where I belong and whom I belong with. I guess the real test wil be what happens now. I grab the last box and head out.
I’ve just locked the door when my cel rings. Propping the box against the wal, I check the display: Skye. I smile and flip open the phone.
“Hey, Stranger. You on the road yet?”
“No.”
Her voice is breathy and panicked. The sound of it tenses my back and shoulders. Stil, I force calm into my voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Devin.”
I nod, aware that whatever it might be, “nothing” isn’t it.
“C’mon, Skye—I know you better than that.” I press my face against my shoulder to cradle the phone. “Just tel me.”
“I…think there’s this guy folowing me,” she whispers.
More tension threads the muscles in my back, and I take a deep breath, knowing Skye could have someone folowing her, but, more likely, she thinks she does.
“Calm down. Are you near a public place?” I keep my voice even. The last thing she needs is me reacting.
“Yes.” Tears deepen her voice. “The student union is just ahead.”
“Okay, go inside and see if he passes.” I get into the elevator and push the button for the ground floor, waiting. This isn’t new for Skye, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier when I get a cal like this. Every few seconds, I want to ask her what’s going on, but I have a feeling she’s going to tel me she’s inside, safe. It’s the middle of the day, and her university is probably a lot like mine—
buzzing with al the students heading home.
A few seconds later, the elevator doors open, and I step out, heading to the parking lot. I hear her softly breathing in the phone.
“Are you inside yet?”
“Yes.”
“Did he folow you?” I set the box in the back of the truck and unlock the door.
“No, he’s moving on.” Her voice is faster with relief. “Thank God.”
I smile, also relieved.
“Are you packed and ready to hit the road?” I start the engine.
“Yeah, I’m going to get a soda, and I’l head out. Sorry for the false alarm.” She’s breathing more slowly, which is a good thing.
“Anytime, Skye. You know that. I’l see you at the usual spot.”
“’Kay.”
I disconnect the cal and sit a moment, stil holding the phone open. I stare at the picture—one of me and Skye taken during her high school graduation. She’s wearing a blue cap and gown that makes her look dark. I mean, she is dark, probably because of the Hispanic genes and al, but her smile is kind of uncertain, like she stil hadn’t shaken off some of the baggage. Then again, I think, leaning back against the seat, that made two of us.
Sophomore year—that’s when everything went south. Up until that point, Skye had been my best friend since we were kids, and I had been in love with her. She just didn’t know it. And when she tried to kil herself, I fel apart. It’s been years, but certain wounds never heal. That’s just the way things are.
This is going to be a long road ahead to Colgate, Mississippi, the little town where Skye and I have met up twice in colege, the same one where Skye’s mom took us on vacation years ago when Skye and I were kids. Without realizing it, my hand drifts to the shel necklace Skye made for me. I rarely take it off, not that I’d tel her that. Stuff like that’s liable to freak her out because even though Skye knows how I feel, I’m stil not sure she’s ready for anything that serious.
Late afternoon sunlight spils into my eyes, forcing me to turn the visor down to cut the glare. I peer over at the passenger seat where the folder of pictures I took down sits. One of them has slipped free, and I pick it up once I’ve merged onto the highway. It’s a picture of Skye and me on the trampoline. We’re sitting close, and she’s lifted one hand to form bunny ears above my head. We’re probably twelve or thirteen, back before things changed, and I’d give anything to be back there, to be able to take Skye back to that time for both our sakes.
Chapter Two
The house is still as I rush up the front steps and begin slamming my fist against the door. “Skye, it’s Devin! Open up!”
I wait. Nothing. My heart is ramming in my chest, and I don’t understand what’s happening. Warren sounded desperate when he called. He said Skye was in danger.
I pound on the door again. “Skye, let me in!”
No answer.
Unable to take the stillness, I throw the screen wide and grab the knob. The door’s unlocked, thank God. I run inside, yelling.
“Skye? Where are you?”
I scan the downstairs and find emptiness settled like dust. I have to find her.
“Skye? Answer me!”
Taking the stair two at a time, I pass the bathroom and give it a half glance, at least until I see the pill bottles strewn across the counter and pills scattered all over the floor. That stops me, and I want to pretend I’m not seeing what’s right in front of me
—that it doesn’t mean anything. But it does. God, it does.
“Skye!” I yell, desperate this time as I dart into the bathroom. Only one bottle has the lid off, and that’s the one I take with me as I charge towards her bedroom. The world seems to have slowed to half-time, and all I can hear is my heart. It’s so loud, and it seems to take forever just to get where I’m going. I nudge open the door.
Skye lies in bed, her face turned away from me, one hand just above her head. She looks so natural I want to believe she’s only sleeping.
“Skye?” I prod, expecting her to turn and answer, but she doesn’t. I edge towards the bed and see make-up ruined by tears. Although a blanket covers her from the chin down, it fails to conceal her still chest.
“Skye!” I yell, thinking that will jumpstart her heart. Oh, God.
I grab the cordless by her bed and call 911. The operator answers, and I say things. I don’t remember what. The voice tells me to start CPR. I go through the motions.
She’s never going to wake up.
I jerk upright in the bed, feeling night pressing down on me so it’s hard to breathe. I’m crying. Imagine—a six-foot-four guy crying like a baby. That’s me. Skye’s name is on the tip of my tongue, and my body is bathed in sweat. I calm myself by rocking back and forth, then head to the window to peer out at the beach, watching the rol of the tide, comforted by the sound of the water.
I look back at the bed and realize there’s no point in returning to it, no matter that it’s the middle of the night and I’m tired as hel. I rake my fingers through my hair and try to relax. My heart is stil racing when I pick up the phone and dial Skye’s number. Two rings later, I hear her sleepy voice.
“Helo?”
“Hey, you,” I whisper, closing my eyes to focus on her voice. I pad back to the bed.
“Everything okay?” She asks, and I can hear her shifting in bed.
“It’s fine. I just wanted to check on you after this afternoon, so don’t get up, okay?” I lean forward, resting both my forearms on the flats of my thighs. Right now, I don’t want to close my eyes for sleep, not until that dream is a less powerful force. I used to have it every night after it happened, but the years have blunted it some.
Stil, when it hits, it puts me back in high school again.
“You sound weird,” she whispers. “And it’s three in the morning.”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have caled.” I know this, but I wanted to hear her voice. “What time you think you’l get here?”
“That depends on how much sleep I get,” she replies. “Maybe by 2.”
“Good,” I say sit up straighter. “I should let you get back to sleep.”
“’Kay. ‘Night.”
“’Night.” I hear her disconnect the cal, and for a moment, I just sit there, the phone stil pressed against my ear. I don’t know why.
I guess I learned early on that the smal things sometimes hint at the bigger ones, and any time I feel currents in the water, I sense a shift coming, even if there isn’t one. Perhaps I’m not so different than Skye in that regard; we just fear different things.
Setting the phone on the nightstand, I grab my keys and head for the beach. The night air is stil heavy with June, so the fact I’m only wearing jeans isn’t a problem. It’s probably stil 75 out. As I step out into the oncoming tide, I look up and down the beach, realizing I’m the only sleepless soul taking refuge in the surf. I let the warm water wash over my feet and in the ful moonlight start looking for shels. It’s not that I colect them; Skye does. She has a thing about them.
A flash of white catches my eye and I bend to find one I know she’l like. Yeah, it’s going to take some cleaning, but that’s al right. I don’t mind. I wipe away the grit and shove it into my jeans pocket before I start walking. I’d forgotten how the sound of the ocean relaxes me, the way the moon spils across the water, burning with night. It would al make a great picture, but I’m no photographer.
I stop and stare at the moon, recognizing this is the place I want to propose to Skye, but part of me is terrified. It’s taken us years to get past what happened in high school. Years. The last thing I want to do is hurt her or remind her of something she can’t bear, but I can’t imagine my life going on with her just in the periphery. I reach into my other pocket and drag out the ring. Staring at the diamond and white gold setting, I know it’s not nearly as much of a ring as I’d wanted, but if I knew one thing about Skye, she liked the simple things—no flash and dazzle would catch her heart. Besides, she would know the ring was a symbol, that if she married me I would love her forever.
Of course, as hard as it was to think about, even if she didn’t say yes, I’d stil love her forever. I’d been doing it so long I don’t think I’d know any other way to exist. I give the ring one las
t look before shoving it back into my pocket and moving on. Ahead, I see a fishing pier jutting long and forlorn into the caps, silhouetted against the moon, and it’s as good a place as any just to sit.
I feel the grit of sand stick to my wet feet as I trudge to the pier.
There are a few lights strung along its length, at least half of which are burned out, a sign that while this place used to be a big tourist spot, it’s lost its charm somewhere along the way, not that it matters. Its charm resides in my memory, a time when things were simpler and I didn’t understand the way life could come unraveled so completely. There is a measure of safety in blindness, but you can’t find happiness in safety, no matter how much you want to. That’s my argument with Skye, I guess. She feels safe in hiding, always has. I know she’s afraid of being hurt or of hurting someone else.
Maybe she thinks that’s al there is to love, but she’s wrong. I just need a chance to prove it.
I glance back at the house, wondering if I should try to go back and get some shut-eye, but the remnants of the dream are stil too close, and I don’t fancy another round. I figure I’l just stay out here, where it’s cooler, anyway, probably thanks to the breeze bracing off the water.
I get to my feet and head back to the shore to grab a stick.
Between the moonlight and what feeble glow the lamps provide, I start drawing in the sand. At first, I think I’m just kind of doodling, that I haven’t realy figured out what I’m doing. Skye’s eyes begin to emerge, then her hair. Granted, I’ve always had artistic ability, and I’ve sure never chosen to use it—and I’ve never used wet sand and a stick as a medium before, but nightmares and boredom usualy help me figure new things to try.
An hour later, I’ve almost finished the rendering, and I put the last few strokes in her hair to give it that wild carefree look before I stand to take a look at my work. Smiling, I see her face, almost as good as if she were realy here. And that’s from memory. Imagine what I could do with her near me, not that she’d approve of my model selection. That’s another funny thing about Skye: she’s amazingly beautiful but blind to it. Perhaps that’s one reason I love her so damned much. Who knows?
October Breezes Page 22
