Elias steps up to me and fits his hands on my hips. “The dress is perfect for the occasion. Just so you know,” he says with a smile in his voice.
I smile and look down at it briefly. “Really?”
He nods and then kisses my forehead.
“OK, well let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing my purse from the cabinet. “Plane leaves in an hour.” I drink down my juice and leave the glass on the counter.
We fly to Athens, and my sister picks us up from the airport and drives us to my parents’ house. Dad is sitting in the living room watching old reruns of Cheers, trying to look casual, when we walk through the front door.
When he gets up from his favorite chair, I walk straight over and hug him tight. “Hi, Dad.”
He kisses the top of my head and rubs my back with both hands. “It’s good to see you,” he says and then squeezes me a little tighter. It still feels awkward when he treats me with such fatherly kindness, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Rian moves through the room and heads straight into the kitchen. She had been talking about leftover homemade cheesecake that Mom had promised to save for her, on the ride here. She was worried dad might’ve eaten it before she arrived.
“And it’s good to see you, Elias,” Dad says with a welcoming nod.
A smile breaks out on my face. They actually get along now, though in the beginning it felt like walking on eggshells every time we’d visit my parents. Gradually, the two of them shed their grudges and came to an understanding.
They exchange a few more words, and then my dad steps up to Elias and reaches out both hands. “And how’s my favorite grandson doing?” he says with a big, awkward smile, looking down at our son in Elias’s arms. He never was good with children.
Elijah, a year old in a few days, with dark hair and bright blue eyes just like mine and his daddy’s, makes a timid face and recoils against Elias’s chest.
Dad’s hands drop to his sides. He makes a face, too, though it’s funny to me because he seems more afraid of Elijah than Elijah is of him.
“He doesn’t like me,” he says, nervously fondling the thick silver watch on his right wrist. “Maybe you should wait until your mom gets here before you head back to Savannah.”
I reach out for Elijah, and he practically leaps into my arms. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Dad. He’s just not used to you. Only sees you once a month.” I put Elijah into my dad’s arms.
Dad holds Elijah, keeping his little butt (dressed in OshKosh B’Gosh blue jeans) propped in the bend of his arm. He looks nervous.
Elias glances over at me, an uneasy yet laughable look on his face.
Just when Dad thinks he might be able to pull this off, Elijah bursts into tears, reaching out his little arms to me.
Dad uses the opportunity and immediately hands him over.
Rian comes back into the living room holding a slice of cheesecake on a small white plate. “He’s walking now,” she teases dad, then takes another small bite off the end of her fork. “You think you can keep up?” She glances at me, and then Elias, trying to contain her laughter.
I pass Elijah to Elias and open the diaper bag on the couch. I explain everything Dad needs to know to hold him over until Mom gets here.
I know Dad can handle it. And Elias isn’t as afraid to leave him with dad as he pretends to be. According to Mom, Dad does a much better job with Elijah when there’s no one staring at him, or teasing him about changing diapers and whatnot.
Elias and I stay for only a few minutes, then Rian drives us back to the airport so we can make our return flight to Savannah. I’m so excited. And nervous. Whatever this surprise is that Elias has for me, it must be pretty special, because he’s been walking on air for the past three weeks. He was even the one who called my parents up and made the arrangements to have Elijah spend the weekend with them. Neither I nor Elias like leaving our son overnight anywhere, even with family, but we know that for some occasions we just have to let go. Apparently, this was one of them.
“I miss Little Man already,” Elias says on the plane.
I look at him. “Are you really worried?”
Elias laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Maybe only for your dad.”
I laugh, too.
Silence lingers between us for a moment as we both look out in front of us.
“Elias?” I ask quietly, looking over again.
“Yeah?” He smiles softly at me with the back of his head pressed against the seat.
“Do you remember that night at Jen’s house? When we talked about whether or not we’d go back in time if we could?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he says. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine.
“Well, you were right,” I say.
“About what?” He raises his head from the seat.
I squeeze his hand. “You said that when we were free to live our lives and enjoy our time together that I wouldn’t feel the same way. That I wouldn’t want to go back to our childhood. You were right.”
His blue eyes brighten. “I’m glad that I was,” he says and kisses my knuckles.
Elias
We make it back to Savannah by early evening and drive our car from the airport to the place I’ve been wanting to take her for weeks. I took a risk doing this without her, especially since it’s not something small and inexpensive. And a part of me is still worried that the whole idea might backfire, that instead of making her happy, it might bring back bad memories instead. But I have to go with my gut. With my heart. And my heart tells me that there were many more good memories than bad and that she’ll love it.
“Are you ready?” I ask, taking Bray by the hand to help her out of the car.
She raises the other hand to her face and adjusts the blindfold over her eyes.
“Now don’t try to peek,” I say.
“I’m not!” she laughs. With my help, she stands up beside the car door, curling her fingers over the top of the door to have something to hold on to. “It’s not even my birthday.”
I shut the car door and pull her carefully beside me as we step onto the grass. “It doesn’t have to be,” I say and squeeze her hand.
Her lips spread into an even bigger smile. She grabs me with her free hand when her heels go over a bump in the ground. I cup her elbow in my hand to steady her walk.
“Well, you could’ve told me not to wear heels,” she says as she struggles to stay upright.
“Sorry, I didn’t think about that,” I say with a hint of a grin in my voice. “But something tells me you won’t need any shoes.”
It’s a hot summer evening, just like we like it. The night is approaching, but the light of the day is still barely holding on as the sky transitions into twilight. The fireflies are already out, twinkling off and on all around us. I walk with her hand in mine, guiding her farther out onto the land. I can feel how excited she is the way she clutches my hand. That huge, toothy smile beaming under the fabric of the blindfold. The joy in her voice.
When we get to a good distance, I stop and walk behind her, fitting my fingers on the blindfold knot.
“Oww! Be careful.”
“Sorry, babe,” I say and try the knot more carefully so I don’t pull her hair.
Finally, the knot comes loose, and I let the blindfold drop from her eyes. She gasps and stares unblinking out at the massive field with trees on all sides. A large pond with a dock sits off to the east with a cluster of trees behind it. Her fingertips dance over her lips.
“What…” She looks over at me. “What is this?”
I smile. “It’s ours. I’ve been saving up for a down payment since the day I started my roofing job three years ago. Got a bank loan for the rest. It’s all ours. All thirty-two acres of it.” I point in the distance toward the woods. “And just over there is a creek.”
Her fingers begin to tremble, still resting over her lips.
“I’m going to build our house here,” I add, taking her into my arms, wrapping them a
round her from behind.
Her tears start to flow and she makes a cute snort-choking sound when she tries to force them back. I turn her around and pull her into a hug.
“A new beginning, remember?” I say and squeeze her gently within my arms. I kiss the side of her head and rub the palms of my hands up and down her bare arms.
She sniffles and wipes the tears away from her eyes. “I can’t believe you did this.”
A little worried she isn’t reacting the way I had hoped, I ask, “Are you… upset?”
She lifts her face away from my chest and looks into my eyes, shaking her head as a few new tears roll down her cheeks.
“No,” she says with a faint hint of disbelief in her voice. “This is… it’s… I just love you so much!” She jumps into my arms, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck, her thighs wrapped around my waist. Her lips kiss my face all over, even my eyelids and the little hollow under my nose. I squeeze her tight.
“You were right again,” she says and breaks the hug, setting her feet back on the ground. She bends over and grins at me.
“About what this time?”
She slips off her heels. “About not needing shoes.”
Then she shoves me in the chest with the palms of her hands and knocks me right on my ass in the grass, then takes off running. The sound of her laughter carries on the breeze.
For a moment I just watch her, a brief moment suspended in time that I want to cherish forever. I watch as her dark hair wafts behind her and bounces majestically against the back of her thin white dress. The way her soft, lithe legs run gracefully over the tall, prickly grass, and the brilliance of the fireflies blinking all around her. I watch how the twilight casts shadows on her smiling face when she looks back at me, and I get lost in the moment just before I take off after her.
Sometimes life takes you off course
He was taking the long road, she was taking the road to nowhere. Just so happens that they lead to the same place …
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One
Natalie has been twirling that same lock of hair for the past ten minutes and it’s starting to drive me nuts. I shake my head and pull my iced latte toward me, strategically placing my lips on the straw. Natalie sits across from me with her elbows propped on the little round table, chin in one hand.
“He’s gorgeous,” she says staring off toward the guy who just got in line. “Seriously, Cam, would you look at him?”
I roll my eyes and take another sip. “Nat,” I say, placing my drink back on the table, “you have a boyfriend—do I need to constantly remind you?”
Natalie sneers playfully at me. “What are you, my mother?” But she can’t keep her eyes on me for long, not while that walking wall of sexy is standing at the register ordering coffee and scones. “Besides, Damon doesn’t care if I look—as long as I’m bending over for him every night, he’s good with it.”
I let out a spat of air, blushing.
“See! Uh huh,” she says, smiling hugely. “I got a laugh out of you.” She reaches over and thrusts her hand into her little purple purse. “I have to make note of that,” and she pulls out her phone and opens her digital notebook. “Saturday. June 15th.” She moves her finger across the screen. “1:54 p.m. – Camryn Bennett laughed at one of my sexual jokes.” Then she shoves the phone back inside her purse and looks at me with that thoughtful sort of look she always has when she’s about to go into therapy-mode. “Just look once,” she says, all joking aside.
Just to appease her, I turn my chin carefully at an angle so that I can get a quick glimpse of the guy. He moves away from the register and toward the end of the counter where he slides his drink off the edge. Tall. Perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Mesmerizing model green eyes and spiked up brown hair.
“Yes,” I admit, looking back at Natalie, “he’s hot, but so what?”
Natalie has to watch him leave out the double glass doors and glide past the windows before she can look back at me to respond.
“Oh. My. God,” she says eyes wide and full of disbelief.
“He’s just a guy, Nat.” I place my lips on the straw again. “You might as well put a sign that says ‘obsessed’ on your forehead. You’re everything obsessed short of drooling.”
“Are you kidding me?” Her expression has twisted into pure shock. “Camryn, you have a serious problem. You know that, right?” She presses her back against her chair. “You need to up your medication. Seriously.”
“I stopped taking it in April.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s ridiculous,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’m not suicidal, so there’s no reason for me to be taking it.”
She shakes her head at me and crosses her arms over her chest. “You think they prescribe that stuff just for suicidal people? No. They don’t.” She points a finger at me briefly and hides it back in the fold of her arm. “It’s a chemical imbalance thing, or some shit like that.”
I smirk at her. “Oh, really? Since when did you become so educated in mental health issues and the medications they use to treat the hundreds of diagnoses?” My brow rises a little, just enough to let her see how much I know she has no idea what she’s talking about.
When she wrinkles her nose at me instead of answering, I say, “I’ll heal on my own time and I don’t need a pill to fix it for me.” My explanation had started out kind, but unexpectedly turned bitter before I could get the last sentence out. That happens a lot.
Natalie sighs and the smile completely drops from her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling bad for snapping at her. “Look, I know you’re right. I can’t deny that I have some messed up emotional issues and that I can be a bitch sometimes—”
“Sometimes?” she mumbles under her breath, but is grinning again and has already forgiven me.
That happens a lot, too.
I half-smile back at her. “I just want to find answers on my own, y’know?”
“Find what answers?” She’s annoyed with me. “Cam,” she says, cocking her head to one side to appear thoughtful. “I hate to say it, but shit really does happen. You just have to get over it. Beat the hell out of it by doing things that make you happy.”
OK, so maybe she isn’t so horrible at the therapy thing after all.
“I know, you’re right,” I say, “but …”
Natalie raises a brow, waiting. “What? Come on, out with it!”
I gaze toward the wall briefly, thinking about it. So often I sit around and think about life and wonder about every possible aspect of it. I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. Even right now. In this coffee shop with this girl I’ve known practically all my life. Yesterday I thought about why I felt the need to get up at exactly the same time as the day before and do everything like I did the day before. Why? What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?
I look away from the wall and right at my best friend who I know won’t understand what I’m about to say, but because of the need to get it out, I say it anyway.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to backpack across the world?”
Natalie’s face goes slack. “Uh, not really,” she says. “That might … suck.”
“Well, think about it for a second,” I say, leaning against the table and focusing all of my attention on her. “Just you and a backpack with a few necessities. No bills. No getting up at the same time every morning to go to a job you hate. Just you and the world out ahead of you. You never know what the next day is going to bring, who you’ll meet, what you’ll have for lunch or where you might sleep.” I realize I’ve become so lost in the imagery that I might’ve seemed a little obsessed for a second, myself.
“You’re starting to freak me out,” Natalie says, eyeing me across the small table with a look of uncertainty. Her arched brow settles back even with the other one and then she says, “And there’s also all th
e walking, the risk of getting raped, murdered and tossed on the side of a freeway somewhere. Oh, and then there’s all the walking …”
Clearly, she thinks I’m borderline crazy.
“What brought this on, anyway?” she asks, taking a quick sip of her drink. “That sounds like some kind of mid-life-crisis stuff—you’re only twenty.” She points again as if to underline, “And you’ve hardly paid a bill in your life.”
She takes another sip; an obnoxious slurping noise follows.
“Maybe not,” I say thinking quietly to myself, “but I will be once I move in with you.”
“So true,” she says, tapping her fingertips on her cup. “Everything split down the middle. Wait, you’re not backing out on me, are you?” She sort of freezes, looking warily across at me.
“No, I’m still on. Next week I’ll be out of my mom’s house and living with a slut.”
“You bitch!” she laughs.
I half-smile and go back to my brooding, the stuff before, that she wasn’t relating to, but I expected as much. Even before Ian died, I always kind of thought out-of-the-box. Instead of sitting around dreaming up new sex positions, as Natalie often does about Damon, her boyfriend of five years, I dream about things that really matter. At least in my world, they matter. What the air in other countries feels like on my skin, how the ocean smells, why the sound of rain makes me gasp. “You’re one deep chick.” That’s what Damon said to me on more than one occasion.
“Geez!” Natalie says. “You’re a freakin’ downer, you know that right?” She shakes her head with the straw between her lips.
“Come on,” she says suddenly and stands up from the table. “I can’t take this philosophical stuff anymore and quaint little places like this seem to make you worse—we’re going to The Underground tonight.”
“What? No, I’m not going to that place.”
“Yes. You. Are.” She chucks her empty drink into the trash can a few feet away and grabs my wrist. “You’re going with me this time because you’re supposed to be my best friend and I won’t take no again for an answer.” Her close-lipped smile is spread across the entirety of her slightly tanned face.
Song of the Fireflies Page 28
