“Girls, this is our last day here,” Maggie says. “Let’s go have some fun.”
“I’m down,” Cynthia says.
“Okay, I can show off my new hair.” I stand up. “And I’ve done my thing, so it is now on you two.” I point at each of them.
“I’m ready,” Maggie says as we walk out of the bathroom.
“I’m kinda ready,” Cynthia says.
“You better be,” Maggie counters. “That boy ain’t gonna wait on you forever.”
“Maggie,” I scowl.
“Just saying.”
____
Dressed in a pale yellow sundress with a tiny blue belt around her waist, Cynthia hits the golf club, and we watch as the ball shoots up the ramp. Her bright red lips and the way her hair is styled make her look like a pin-up girl. She’s beautiful, and she doesn’t realize it. We chat about this and that as we make our way around the putt-putt course.
“Did you play this as a kid?” Maggie asks after Cynthia sinks another hole in one yet again.
“Actually, yeah,” Cynthia says. “My nanny would take me to the local entertainment complex and I would play by myself, so I got a lot of practice.”
“Your nanny?” Maggie questions as Cynthia retrieves her ball.
“Yeah.”
“Your parents didn’t take you to do things?”
“No, my parents and I didn’t have much of a relationship.
They worked their lives away.”
“Can we sit for a moment?” I ask, spotting a bench. “My back is starting to give me a fit.”
“Sure,” Cynthia says. We flop down, and I sigh as I bend, trying to relieve my aching back. Old age only brings more problems. I have to take pills in the morning and the evening, but there are some things a pill can’t fix and that’s these growing old pains. When you’re young, it’s growing pains. When you get my age, you add a word in that sentence. And the damn doctor appointments are endless. I see him more than my own family.
“Would you tell us more about what happened with everything?” Maggie asks Cynthia, interrupting my thoughts about old age. “I know you’re a private person, but I think we have gotten pretty close over these weeks, and I’d like to know more about Lit, your parents, and the accident if you can talk about it.”
Cynthia squints her eyes toward the blinding sun, and I see her slowly inhale. “A few weeks ago, I would have told you no,” she says, looking down at her blue tights and picking a piece of fuzz off. “But you’re right. You two have become very important to me, and I know now that what happened that day wasn’t anyone’s fault.” She looks over at me. “You have opened up so much of your life to us.” She looks back at Maggie. “And you have told us about your past with your daughter. I guess it’s only fair I share my story with the both of you, too.
“Four years ago, on my seventeenth birthday, my parents surprised me with a Range Rover. I didn’t want it. I felt like it was a way for them to get back into my good graces. They were never around. The only one who was, was Lit. He was not only my boyfriend, but my best friend.
“Anyway, my folks and I got into a fight, because along with the Range Rover, they gave me empty promises about cutting their hours at the hospital and spending more time with me. I told them to keep the Rover. That it was too late. I had grown up, and they’d missed it. My mom was a beautiful woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and every time I looked in the mirror with that same blonde hair, it just reminded me of a time when I screwed up. When I took my parents’ life,” she says, looking down.
“Is that why you dye it so much?” Maggie asks.
“In the beginning, yeah,” she tells her. “After the fight, I took off that night with Lit, and when I came back, my dad was sitting at the kitchen table waiting on me. It surprised me, because usually they’d already be back at the hospital. He told me he was serious, and that he was sorry he’d missed out on so many years. I learned in that moment, that for the first time ever, their promises weren’t empty.
“My folks and I took off with no plans. I drove my new car, and Mom oversaw the radio. It was like we were getting to know each other. I realized on that trip that not only had they missed out on me, but they had missed out on each other as well. We spent a few days doing stupid things like looking at the world’s largest this and the world’s tallest that.
“We made memories on that trip. My dad tried to eat a five-pound hamburger for bragging rights and a free T-shirt. Mom let me have a margarita. She said life’s too short, and she wanted my ‘first’ drink to be with her.
“Lit even met up with us for a few days, and my parents went off and did their own thing so we could do ours. We camped out on the beach. We had a tent, but Lit wanted to sleep under the night sky, so we opened my sleeping bag and laid it down on the sand. I curled up next to him, and we counted stars until our eyes closed.
“We decided to head back home a few days after that with a glove compartment full of old Polaroid photos we’d taken and sun-kissed skin.” She looks over at me. “See, I used to take photos, too.” I smile, and then she sighs and looks away as I see her throat move when she swallows.
“We all have moments we regret. Things we look back on and think, why did I do that? If I would have just done this differently and not said that. Regret is one of those silent killers. I was driving,” she says softly. “The light ahead of me was green, and my phone was in my lap. Mom and Dad were talking about going on a trip on his boat in a few weeks. He’d bought it the summer before, and we had yet to really do anything with it.
“My phone chimed, and I looked down. The light was green, but how was I supposed to know the driver of an eighteen-wheeler had dropped his coffee in his lap and he was trying to clean it off? How was I supposed to know he didn’t see his light was red? Well, I would have known if I hadn’t looked down at my phone. I would have looked both ways, even though that light was green. But I didn’t. I looked at my phone.
“It was so quick and so loud. The sound alone made my ears ring. He hit the passenger side––the side they both were sitting on. I was told they were killed instantly. I busted my window with my left shoulder and head. Broke my right arm and was cut up badly from the glass. But they were killed instantly.” She shakes her head, and I rub her back.
“When I got out of the hospital. I went to see the car. I got out the photos and found my cell phone in between the seat and console. Lit was just telling me he missed me and to call him when I got back in town.
“The funeral arrangements were made, and I said goodbye to my parents and the life I knew. I said goodbye to the boy who loved me through it all. I crushed his heart right when I needed him the most. When all he wanted to do was be with me.” Cynthia toys with her bracelets and exhales.
“We had no idea,” Maggie says, looking over at her with sad eyes.
“Yeah, well, how could you?” she says, biting her bottom lip and twirling her thumbs. “I haven’t been very forthcoming about my life.”
“I’m so sorry about your parents, sweet girl,” I say to her.
She sighs. “Me, too.”
“I now feel like more than ever you have got to talk to that boy. I can’t imagine what he has been thinking all these years,” Maggie insists.
“That’s why I’m so afraid to reach out to him. I did him wrong.”
“But that was long ago. Sometimes time changes feelings, too,” I say.
“Yeah, and he used to love me. What if he hates me now?”
“Girl, he named his boat after you. The boy doesn’t hate you,” I argue.
She looks down and shrugs. “Maybe you’re right.”
Maggie pats her leg. “We’ve lived longer. We’re always right.”
Cynthia grins as I push myself up from the bench, saying, “Let’s go eat some good lunch and get ready to leave.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The moonlight shines through the small cracks of the hotel curtains, and I look at the clock on the bedside table, noticin
g that it’s only five a.m. Last night, we had a nice dinner with no talk about the past. We were just three women, having a few drinks, talking about everyday things, and it was nice. But today we leave, heading back to North Caronia and our homes. This has been a fun trip going down memory lane, but all good things must come to an end eventually, and my girls have some things they need to take care of.
They are still fast asleep with Archie lying at Maggie’s feet. I silently get out of bed and change out of my pajamas before I brush my teeth, and then I quietly pack up my things. It’s closer to six now, so I hurry out of the room and make my way down to the beach.
I take a seat once I reach the hotel beach chairs and wrap my light jacket around myself. It’s not cold really, but there’s a strong breeze that gives me chills. Staring ahead at the wonder that is the ocean, I watch as something insignificant to most takes place before me. A glimpse, so slight, of fire brushes its hello against the horizon, blasting warm colors over the ocean. It holds promises of a new day, a fresh start. We tend to take this for granted, most of us. Thinking that it’s a given right, but it’s a gift.
The waves tumble expectantly against the waiting shore, and seagulls scurry about to catch what’s left over after the waves descend. I sit, gazing with wide eyes as the sun continues to rise slowly as though someone is pulling it up by a string, yet there is no string to be seen. It hangs alone in a vast sky, turning the once cool blue into a vivid painting of tangerine and blood red. It’s a sight, and I watch until it’s completely light and there is no darkness left.
____
We pulled into downtown St. Augustine almost three hours after we left Ft. Pierce. The ride was quiet with me taking a nap and Cynthia in her own world, probably stressing over talking with Lit after so long. I pray this goes well for her. The streets are busy, so we have to pull around a few times before finally finding a parking spot. We put some coins into the parking meter and make our way over to the docks. The Cynthia Rose is sitting where it was before.
“You okay?” I ask, looking down at Cynthia beside me.
“Not really,” she responds. “I feel like I may throw up.”
“Take a breath,” Maggie says. Archie sits at her feet.
Cynthia inhales, and then with a strong exhale, she steps forward. “I’ll be back,” she says to us.
____
Cynthia Rose
With sweaty hands and a stomach full of knots, I make my way down the dock toward The Cynthia Rose. My shoes echo against the aged wood, and I try my best to calm my nerves. I look around before I take a step onto the boat. It rocks underneath me, throwing off my equilibrium. Steading myself, I walk to the only door I see. Taking my lip between my teeth, I whisper a silent prayer and knock.
A bark from behind causes me to jump. I turn to see Lit walking my way. The dog, Gunner—I believe is his name—runs to me and starts sniffing my feet, wagging his tale ninety miles per hour. I bend down and pet his head.
“Hey, Gunner,” I say.
I hear a whistle, and Gunner turns and makes his way back to his owner, who is looking at me with narrowed eyes. Shit. He’s shirtless, sweating, and wearing a black snapback backwards with gray jogging shorts. I swallow.
“Cynthia?” he questions in disbelief.
“Umm, hey.” I wring my fingers, nervous and unsure of what to say.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, walking closer and scanning his eyes over me. “How did you…” He stops himself, his expression changing from confusion to understanding. His eyebrows lift, and his mouth opens slightly.
“Cyn. The older women that Gunner ran to the other day. That was you walking away.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, it was me.” I curl my toes in my wedges. Come on, Cynthia. Say something else!
“Can we talk?” I ask.
“Can we talk?” he repeats, his eyebrows creasing. “You wanna talk now?” His expression changes quickly from surprised to guardedly angry. He steps closer to me, Gunner following behind. I’m standing at the entrance of the boat, and he walks right up. “You going to move, or you wanna talk right here?” I move to the side so he can step up. As he passes me, I catch a hint of cologne and sweat. Man. I said one day he would be all man, and now here he is.
He walks to the door I knocked on earlier and opens it. “Come on,” he says, gesturing for me to go in first. I glance back at Charlotte and Maggie and find them sitting on a nearby bench. They quickly turn their heads away from us when I look. As nervous as I am, I can’t help the small laugh that comes up my throat as I walk to where he is.
“Something funny?” he asks.
“It’s nothing,” I reply. I step past him into the small room. I take in the helm chair and all the knobs and gears. Windows line all four walls, and there’s a bench seat across one. A door leads down below, and I assume that’s where he lives.
“Nice boat,” I say, taking a seat. He sits in the captain’s chair and rests his foot on the bottom bar.
He nods.
“I never pictured you a fisherman.”
“I never pictured you one to run away.” Oh, we’re getting right down to it then.
I exhale. “Lit, I didn’t run away. I moved away. You knew that.” I notice his body tense up, and Gunner lies down beside him.
“Whatever you want to call it,” he says, his voice sounding cold.
“I had to go.”
“Yeah, you had to go, but you didn’t have to disappear.”
“I thought it was best.”
He quickly stands up and walks over to me. I move back as his hand loudly slams above me and he leans in. “I called you more times than I could keep track,” he seethes, his teeth bared. “I fucking tried my best to find you!” I flinch at his raised voice and swallow at his proximity.
He moves back and lifts his hat off his head, running a hand over his buzzed hair. He tosses the hat into the wall and scrubs down his handsome face in frustration. His hands go to his hips, and he stares out at the other boats.
“I would have moved with you if I could,” he says more softly. “I would have left everything to be with you.” My eyes go to the floor, and my heart pounds in my ears. He loved me even before I knew what love was. I had never felt it before, not from my parents, not from the nannies they hired, but Lit. I felt it from him, and I pushed it away.
“You left me without so much as a glance back,” he says, and my eyes shoot up because that’s just not true. I looked back. Boy, did I look back, but I was messed up.
“We were so young, Lit.”
“Yeah.” He nods his head and looks over at me. “But love is love. And I fucking loved you.”
My eyes dance around the four walls that surround me. Loved. But this boat.
“What were you hoping to get out of this?” he asks.
I bite my lip. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You have no idea?” He looks skeptical.
I peer down again. “Forgiveness, maybe? To see if you were okay.” I swallow and focus back on him. “To see you again.”
He ignores the last sentence. “Forgiveness?”
“Yeah.”
“You gotta say sorry first, baby.”
I push myself up from the bench seat and walk over to him, looking him directly in the eyes so he’ll know I mean it. “I’ve never been sorrier,” I say, and my wall crumbles. My emotions come full force with him standing before me. He was always the best-looking boy in school to me, not only on the outside, but where it counts—deep on the inside. My eyes water, and I try with everything in me to keep the tears from falling, but one slips and he notices. I quickly wipe it away, embarrassed for getting emotional.
“How long has it been since you’ve done that?” he asks.
“What?”
“Cry.”
I shake my head and shrug. “I don’t know,” I say, disconcerted.
He nods once as though he figured that’d be my answer. “Well, I forgive you,” he says. He
walks over and scoops up his hat, placing it back on his head carelessly. “So you can go.”
I look down and fold my arms, my heart falling to the pit of my stomach. This is what I was afraid of. This feeling. Rejection. The same thing you did to him? Yeah. That.
“Okay,” I say. I take a step toward the door before I look back. “By the way, I live in North Carolina in a small town called Sea Harbor.” I continue to the door. “Take care,” I mumble as I step out, not caring to shut it behind me. I make a beeline for the dock and walk as fast as my wedges will allow. Maggie and Charlotte jump up from the bench.
“Cynthia?” Maggie says, looking at me with concern. I told them this would happen.
“He wants nothing to do with me.” I wipe the tears away from my face as they look at each other.
“I’ll go and tell that young man a thing or two!” Maggie says as she starts to pull Archie with her. I hold out my hand.
“Don’t, Maggie. It’s okay. I deserve this. What? Did we all really think he was just going to forgive and forget? Just come back into my life as though I didn’t leave him like garbage on the side of the road?” I shake my head and look up. “Not everyone gets a happy ending. I mean, look at you two.” I exhale and stare up at the sky as a small airplane flies above us, a banner trailing behind advertising a local restaurant. “Let’s just go home,” I say, defeated.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Charlotte Harris
We’re less than halfway home now, all of us in a mood because things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to with Lit. And honestly, Cynthia’s comment about us not having a happy ending kinda stung a little. But mostly, I’m puzzled about Litton. Why would the boy name his boat after her if he wants nothing to do with her? I think he just needs some time to think, and I’m praying he’ll come around. Cynthia is more crushed than she lets on, hardly eating anything when we stop for lunch, but we let her handle her emotions the way she sees fit. She stirs from the back seat, and I look up in the rearview, seeing her grab her notebook and pen from her pink polka dot bag.
If I'd Known Page 19
