Unbreakable

by Rebecca Shea

  “Hey, little sister,” I respond. “You look nice,” I say, looking at her in a little black dress with knee high black leather boots on. Pouring herself a mug of coffee she joins me at the kitchen table.

  “Thanks. We’re all taking Jess to lunch for her last day,” she says quietly, looking down at her mug and blowing the steam off of the coffee. “You should meet us,” she says timidly, awaiting my normal tense reaction.

  “Nah, have a great time though. You really do look nice,” I say, laying the magazine on the table and taking my mug of coffee with me to the living room.

  “Just call her Landon. Text her. Say goodbye to her. Neither of you will talk to me about each other. I’ve never seen you like this,” Lindsay pleads with me, her voice becoming more faint the further away I walk. My throat dries up, and I swallow hard. I’ve honestly never felt like this. All of these emotions are new to me as well.

  “We’ll see,” I toss back over my shoulder.

  I’ve only ever dealt with losing one person I cared about, my mom. I vowed to never let a woman into my heart to the point where I’d get hurt, but I did. My gut tells me to just let her go, but my heart tells me to say goodbye. The decision is simple really; I only ever listen to my gut, but fuck if my heart isn’t trying to win this battle.

  Shoving the last suitcase into the back of my SUV, I slam the door and pray I can still see through the rearview mirror out my back window. Kevin is shipping a few boxes back to me in California that won’t fit in my car. Walking up the sidewalk into the condo to get my purse and lock up, I can’t help but remember what it felt like to walk this same sidewalk three months ago. What a different person I was then. A shell of what I am now.

  I have grown immensely moving across the country for an internship, meeting some of the greatest friends I know I’ll ever have, and for the therapy that has helped me forge a path to healing. I know I have a long way to go, but I feel hopeful for my future. I know that my leaving California, on the terms I did, was selfish, and I hurt many people. I’m ready to make amends, but I won’t regret my time here in Wilmington.

  Taking one last look around this beautiful condo, I can’t help but wonder what everyone will think when I show up in California. No one knows I’m coming, not even Dad. Gabe and I text and talk daily, working to repair the damage I did by shutting him out, but I needed to make the decision to move home on my own accord. This is about me, not Gabe.

  Locking the door to the condo, I place the key under the doormat as Kevin has instructed me. Holding the key to my SUV in my hand, I take one last look at the amazing beach that lies straight ahead. I will miss the sounds and smells of the ocean. It’s become a needed form of therapy for me, to sit on the soft sands of its beaches, and just think.

  My heart stops when I see him, leaning against the side of my car. Wearing dark jeans and a tight white t-shirt, his sandy brown hair is messy, and a five o’clock shadow outlines every ridge of this jaw. I can’t help but smile when I hear that sweet Southern accent drawl out, “Hey, baby girl.”

  My pace quickens until I’m standing right in front of him. “What are you doing here?” My pulse is racing.

  “Wasn’t going to let you leave without saying goodbye.” He smiles at me with his perfect mouth. Reaching out, he pulls me into a firm hug. I will never forget his smell, light, masculine, and comforting. We stand, hugging each other for at least a minute. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. Finally pulling back, I look into his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Thank you for calling Gabe,” I say, my voice finally breaking and tears spilling out from my eyes. “You were right, you know.”

  “I’m always right, baby girl,” he says with a chuckle, wiping the tears from under my eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

  “I should be thanking you,” he says with his eyes focused intently on mine. “I didn’t know I had the capacity to feel love for anyone, and somehow, you broke down those walls that were barricading my heart. So, thank you.”

  “FFL’s?” I ask him.

  “FFL’s? What the hell is that?” he asks me, laughing.

  “Friends for life,” I say.

  “Always. FFL’s.”

  “Oh, and hey,” I raise my left arm and flash him my inner wrist. “It means ‘unbreakable.’”

  Grabbing my wrist, he presses his lips to the white script tattoo just like Gabe did. Slowly releasing my hand, he moves to open my car door, waiting for me to step in. Tossing my purse over to the passenger side seat, he moves closer so that he can close the door after I get inside. Before I sit down, he wraps his large hand around my upper arm, pulling me toward him. Standing there, just inches from him again, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

  “Bye,” I whisper as I pull away from him and get into my car. With a nod, he closes my door. Backing out of my parking spot, I roll down my window.

  “Take care of Linds for me.”

  “Always have, always will, baby girl. Be safe.” He forces a smile. Memories of Landon will be etched in my heart forever. I will cherish his honesty, trust, and friendship for the rest of my life. With a raised hand, he mouths ‘bye’ to me, and I leave him standing next to his motorcycle, beginning my three day drive back to California.

  Time stands still as I make that last turn onto Lawson Street, the street where I grew up between two different homes. Dad’s truck is gone, which means he’s at the fire station—shocker. At this hour, I will go unnoticed. It’s after midnight, so I grab just my purse and small bag with clothes and toiletries. Checking the hanging planter for the house key, I find it exactly where it was left. Some things never change.

  Letting myself into the house, I take in the surroundings that I left just over three months ago. Everything seems different here. I feel older, like I’ve been gone much longer. Finding my way down the short hallway in the dark, I open my door to find my bedroom untouched from when I left. Throwing my purse on the white wooden desk, I quickly shower and change into my pajamas. I want to get a few hours of sleep before I drive to the fire station to see my dad.

  Waking at six, I actually feel refreshed. Even with a few hours of sleep, I’m excited to go announce my arrival back in California. I pull a short cream dress from my closet that has eyelet cutouts around the neck and sleeve line. Putting the finishing touches on my make-up, I’m out of the house before seven.

  My heart is racing, and adrenaline is running through my body, not because I’m nervous to see Dad or Gabe, but because of the stop I need to make first. Driving back from California, I decided this was something I needed to do for me and my healing. I must face my fears and forgive, let go.

  Pulling into the small gravel parking lot at Washington Park, the sun is up, casting its bright rays on the green park. Walking the path I used to run, I clutch my phone and car keys in my hand while passing women and men running, just as I did that day. Winding through the park on the paved trail, I find the spot where my life changed so suddenly. No one is around this morning—the irony.

  Sitting down on the grass at the edge of the creek where it meets the water and cattails, I finally let go. I lay down in the grass and the tears slide from the corner of my eyes at the same time that I let go of the hatred, the fear, and the anger. I let go of the anxiety that has suffocated me for more than six months. I finally forgive my attacker, not because he deserves it, but because continuing to harbor the anger, the hurt, and the fear isn’t allowing me to heal—and I’m ready to heal. I know that this is one small step in my healing, and I still have a long road ahead of me. Taking in a deep breath for what feels like the first time since I was lying here nearly six months ago, I feel like I can breathe. I let hope take over that place in my heart where I harbored anger, hatred, and resentment.

  Sitting up, I wipe away my tears away with the back of my hand and toss a small rock into the creek that my feet are almost touching. I’m ready to get my life back and ask forgiveness of those I hurt in my attempts to heal. I’m not running a
nymore. Dr. Peterson would be so proud. I take a picture of myself sitting on the bank of this creek, and I plan to text it to her. Collecting myself, I stand and feel lighter. It is truly amazing the weight that anger and resentment has on a person. I walk quickly to my car, I’m excited and hopeful, and surprisingly, at peace.

  Pulling into the fire station, I drive around to the back and punch in the gate code that I’m glad I still have memorized. I pull through the metal gate as it slides open, and find an empty spot in the back and pull in. One of the large stall doors is open, and I see the ladder truck inside with boots and pants lying on the floor next to it.

  Walking toward the open door, I see him standing there, talking on his cell phone. He looks like he’s aged in the three months since I’ve seen him. His hair is a little greyer, and a few more wrinkles have crept in around his eyes. When he looks up and spots me, a smile crosses his face. He begins walking towards me as he stuffs his phone in his pocket.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say as we approach each other.

  “Jessie, what are you doing here?” he asks, lifting me off the ground and into a giant bear hug.

  “I’m home,” I respond, squeezing him back.

  “You look good kiddo,” he says, and I notice his misty eyes.

  “Thanks. It’s good to be home.” Pulling back from him, I study his face, remembering the resentment and anger I left at the creek. I know he did the best he could raising a daughter alone while grieving the loss of my mom.

  “There’s someone inside who I think would be really happy to see you.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” I say, excited to see him.

  Jackson, another one of Dad’s crewmembers is standing in the open stall near the fire truck and happens to holler,

  “Hey, Garcia. There’s someone here you might want to see.”

  My heart races at the anticipation of seeing him. I sense him before I see him, I always have. From around the dark corner, he steps out of the bay and into the sun shining down on the driveway. Looking at me, he shifts his eyes to my dad and then back to me. He stops momentarily. With a quick walk, his pace picks up, and I start running towards him at the same time. Jumping into his arms as I meet him, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, not even caring that my short dress has probably exposed my ass.

  “Jess,” he whispers, spinning me around. “What are you doing here?” he asks in shock. Setting me down, I lean in and press a kiss to his lips.

  “I’m home,” I say, watching a smile spread across his face. He pulls me into another hug and spins me around again.

  “You’re not going back to North Carolina?” he asks hesitantly, searching my eyes for answers my mouth hasn’t been able to provide every other time he’s asked me. Shaking my head no, I let the words he’s wanted to hear fall from my lips.

  “I’m home for good—if you still want me here.”

  The expression ‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost’ couldn’t have been more true the moment I stepped out onto the back driveway. Jess was standing there with her dad, a huge smile spread across her face. I wasn’t expecting her to be anywhere other than North Carolina. I second-guessed what my eyes were seeing at that moment. She was beautiful, wearing a dress, her long legs peeking out from underneath it, and her long dark hair blowing slightly in the morning breeze. But what stopped my heart was the sense of tranquility on her face and the genuine smile I was used to seeing on her beautiful face.

  Walking towards her, my mind was filled with thoughts of why she was here. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was here to collect the remaining items she left behind the first time she left for North Carolina—to settle into her new life, and sever her ties here in California. But it was her smile that calmed me slightly as I walked faster towards her. I felt, for a fraction of a moment, that my Jess was back.

  It was when she jumped into my arms and wrapped her legs around me, the erratic beat of her heart against my chest that my nerves turned into waves of adrenaline. But it was hearing her tell me that she was home that brought me to really breathe for the first time in six months.

  “All I’ve wanted since you left was for you to come back. Don’t ever doubt that I don’t want you here.”

  I press my lips to hers, taking in the taste of my world. The catcalls, hoots, and clapping are what finally bring us from our moment. Chief is laughing, and Jess buries her face in my neck, trying to hide her embarrassment, but I hear her giggling. All of the guys on our shift are now outside making a scene and ruining our moment together.

  “Come on. You better go say ‘hi’ to everyone, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” I say, pulling her hand and tugging her towards the firehouse. Her cheeks are blushed, but she smiles at me and laces her fingers through mine as she follows me. Once inside, she spends time talking to all the guys. Most of them she’s known for years, but I introduce her to a few of the newer guys.

  Leaning against the wall, I stand back and watch her as she interacts with everyone. I see glimmers of the old Jess as she smiles, laughs, and talks about her time at the TV station interning, the friends she made, and the beach. In a way, I know that this experience was good for her. I just wish it had been on different terms.

  Finally sneaking away from the guys, she walks up to me and presses a light kiss to my lips. “I missed you,” she whispers.

  “I missed you too,” I say and kiss her back.

  “Please tell me you didn’t just start a forty-eight hour shift,” she says, laying her head against my chest and wrapping her arms around my waist. Still leaning against the wall, she wiggles her arms between my back and the wall.

  “As a matter of fact, I was off at seven. If I had left on time this morning, I would have missed all this.” I run my hands up and down her back.

  “Did you have a lot of calls last night? Are you tired?” she asks. Even if I had been up for thirty-six hours straight, there was no way I was going to go home and sleep now that she was back.

  “It was actually pretty quiet last night. How about I go shower and change and then we can go grab some breakfast?” She’s nodding her head yes against my chest.

  “Sounds perfect,” she says as she pulls away from me. She glides over to the large group of leather sectionals we have in the day room and sits down next to Tony. He’s her Dad’s age, and she has known him since she was four. They fall into easy conversation, and as much as I just want to stand and watch her I want to get her out of here more.

  “Almost finished?” I ask as she sips on her third mug of coffee.

  “What’s the rush?” she asks. “I love my coffee.” She winks at me.

  “Then I’ll ask for a ‘to-go’ cup.” Clearly I’m anxious, and actually, slightly nervous for what I’m about to do. What will she say? What will she think? Fuck.

  “Forget it. I’m ready,” she says, pushing her chair back from the table and grabbing her large handbag.

  “Where are we going?” she asks as she pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and places them over her beautiful green eyes. Lacing my fingers through hers, we walk through the diner and out to my truck.

  “It’s a surprise.” She laughs and shakes her head at me.

  Driving through Santa Ruiz, I turn down Lawson Street and pass our homes. I pull up in front of the house I bought and remodeled that still has the ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard.

  “Why did you park here?” she asks me, looking confused. I open the door and slide out of my seat, meeting her around the front of my truck.

  “Remember this house?” I ask her, studying her face as she takes in the remodeled house.

  “I can’t believe Old Man Johnson finally fixed this place up and is selling it,” she says as she walks through the yard and closer to the front porch.

  “Remember when we would run and how I always stopped in front of this house?” She continues her walk through the front yard closer to the porch steps. “How I used to tell you that a wrap-around porch would be pe
rfect on this house?” she says, stepping up the front steps onto the porch. Gasping, she turns to me as I still stand leaning against my truck.

  “Gabe, look.” Her hand is pressed against her chest over her heart. “He added a porch swing.” Her voice is excited. The sight of her taking in everything she had once told me she wanted sends chills over me. She sits down in the swing and gently pushes herself back and forth.

  “This house is absolutely beautiful,” she says. Finally walking across the lawn and up the steps, I meet her on the front porch. She’s still rocking back and forth in the swing, her head tipped backward just slightly, and her eyes are closed.

  “Want to see the rest of the house?” I ask, dangling a single key.

  “How did you get that?” she asks, jumping off the swing.

  “Oh, I know a guy who knows a guy,” I say, laughing at her.

  “Come on.” Opening the glass door, I insert the key into the large wooden door and push it open. Holding the door, I let her in first and watch her eyes take in the large room. Closing the door behind us, I follow her as she walks slowly through the living room.

  I see her mentally taking notes of the new windows, the original floors, and the crown molding. I study her as she sees every little detail that I worked on for months. I stay in the living room as I watch her light steps taking her into the kitchen. When minutes pass and she hasn’t returned I walk to the kitchen. There she stands with her back against the kitchen island, her arms on either side of her holding her still. She’s looking out the large windows into the back yard—tears falling down her face. Turning to meet me when I walk into the kitchen, I keep my distance.

  “This isn’t Old Man Johnson’s house is it?” she asks, swiping at her tears.

  Shaking my head, I simply answer her honestly, “No.”

  “It has everything I ever mentioned to you.” Her lip and chin are quivering as she stops speaking.