The Words We Leave Unspoken

by L. D. Cedergreen

  Before long, the seconds are ticking by on the television screen with one minute to go. A sudden knock on the door startles me. Who in the world could that be? I peek out the front window but cannot see a car that I recognize on the crowded street. I open the door with the chain still in place and my heart stops when I see Grey’s face. I close the door and pull open the chain before opening the door all the way. Grey steps inside, invading my space just as I hear the countdown in Times Square chiming from the television. Ten, nine, eight, seven... seconds tick by although it feels as if time has stopped completely. I hear fireworks on the television simultaneously with the crackle of fireworks outside, most likely coming from the Space Needle in Seattle Center.

  Grey whispers, “Happy New Year, Charley” and then engulfs me in his arms, lifting my feet inches from the floor as his lips crash against mine. My hands go to his hair as I pull him closer, breathing him in, relishing in his familiar scent and the feel of his body pressed against mine. He takes another step inside without letting me go or interrupting our kiss, I hear the door slam closed as “Auld Lange Syne” plays in the background. I pull away when I remember the blonde and her painted lips.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, looking into Grey’s warm eyes.

  He shrugs his shoulders, his arms still around me. “I got your text.”

  “What about the blonde?”

  “What about the tall, Antonio Banderas?”

  I smile. Marcus kind of does look like a younger, taller Antonio Banderas.

  “You first,” I say.

  “Last minute date. It never would have worked out,” he says with a sexy grin, still so close to me I can smell peppermint on his breath.

  “Gay,” is all I say in return, staring into his eyes.

  “So, where does this leave us?” he asks. His easy tone is underlined with so much more.

  I stand on my tippy toes and press my lips back against his as I slip my hands up underneath his shirt, feeling the smooth, cut planes of his back with my fingertips. Grey’s hands are running down the bare skin of my back, where my dress leaves me exposed.

  “God, this dress. Are you trying to kill me?” he murmurs against my lips as he walks me backward toward the bedroom. Once we are inside the door to my room, he slips the dress from my shoulders and steps back to watch it fall to my feet, leaving me standing in only a pair of black lace panties. He takes a moment to admire me but I can’t wait another second. I practically lunge at him, kissing his cheek, his neck, as I unbutton his dress shirt. I slip it from his shoulders, down his arms and let it fall to the ground. He undoes his own belt and slacks, letting them fall and then he steps out of them all while I kiss him senseless.

  He pushes me back on the bed and crawls over me, kissing his way from my belly to my lips, slowly. That familiar dizzy high comes over me as I anticipate what is going to happen next, but then I find myself with my hand against Grey’s chest, holding him back as my eyes shoot open and look into the depth of his own.

  “Grey,” I whisper. All at once, I want him to know what this means to me. That this isn’t like before. I want him to know what I feel for him. I can’t lose him again. But once I’m staring into his eyes, the words get caught in my throat. I am so far out of my element, I’m not sure what to say or do. My heart is thrumming in my chest as his eyes search mine, questioning.

  My heart is full of so many words that I long to convey, but they remain unspoken, as if they are trapped inside, locked away with no will to escape. I avert my eyes, feeling on the verge of tears.

  Grey gently, sweetly presses his lips to my temple and whispers against my ear, “I know, Charley.” And then he kisses me. And it feels weighted with a promise, loaded with meaning. Grey draws out every touch, every kiss, taking his time and I stare into his eyes as he takes me to new heights and, for the first time ever, I feel like we’re making love, something I have never experienced before. A new high that leaves me so full that I feel like my heart might burst. Such an obvious contrast to the dizzy void, the emptiness I normally crave.

  When we are done, Grey pulls me close and tears roll one by one down my cheeks. Overcome with emotion, I lay in Grey’s arms in silence until I feel his breathing even out and his arms grow limp around me. I watch his sleeping face, memorizing every detail, and before I can stop them, the words, “I love you, Grey,” tumble softly from my lips. It surprises me that they come with such ease, but then again, Grey’s asleep. I close my eyes and nestle my head into the crook of his neck, feeling so content in his arms.

  A few moments later, just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, I feel Grey tighten his embrace and then he whispers, “I love you too, Charley.” For a moment I think that I imagined it, that he really didn’t hear my words or say his own. But I feel his lips lift into a smile against my temple as he presses his lips there softly.

  I wait for the fear to settle in, take its hold and darken the blinding light that is exploding inside me like the fireworks that lit up the sky at midnight.

  But all I feel is love.

  Epilogue: Five years later

  Gwen

  The horn of a ferryboat bellows in the distance as I watch it glide across the dark blue waters of Elliott Bay. The sun is high in the clear sky, the rising temperature breeding beads of sweat along my brow. Escaping the heat of the balcony, I step back inside the cool, air-conditioned hotel suite as I raise my phone to my ear just in time to hear Charley’s voice chime, “Leave a message.” The same words I have heard nearly twenty times in the past hour. Where could she be?

  I hear a knock on the hotel room door and scurry across the plush carpeting, hoping it’s Charley at the door.

  I find John and Grey in the hallway wearing only their black pants and white dress shirts, their ties and suit jackets missing.

  “Any luck?” John asks as they step into the room.

  “No, nothing. She’s not answering her phone,” I say. I glance at Grey, armed with an apology at the concern etched into his brow.

  He holds his phone up, showing me the screen. I stare at it, dumbfounded, until I recognize the map of downtown with a flashing red dot, pinpointing Charley’s location.

  I look up at Grey then, my mind full of mixed thoughts. Relief that we have found Charley at last, but disappointment that Grey has the ability to track my sister like a lost dog.

  The disappointment must have won over the expression on my face because Grey shrugs and says a bit defensively, “You do realize that your sister loses her phone more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  A small smile forms on my lips as I realize that Grey’s tracking app has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with Charley’s absentmindedness. I snag the phone from his hand and try to make sense of the address. She is somewhere close to the hotel, but nowhere with a distinguishable landmark.

  I step away, slip on my heels and grab my purse.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” John asks.

  “To get my sister,” I say with my chin up, stepping around both of them toward the door with Grey’s phone still clutched tightly in my palm.

  Grey grabs my arm gently, holding me back from the door. “Whoa, don’t you think I should be the one to go?”

  I turn to look at him and say as lightly as possible, “No offense, but I’ve talked her off way more ledges than you. I’m going.”

  John clasps his hand on Grey’s shoulder. “She’s right, man. Let Gwen go find her.”

  I pause while Grey releases my arm and then add, “Don’t worry. She probably just needed some air. We’ll be back in time, you’ll see.”

  Grey reaches into his pocket and hands me a valet ticket. “Here, take my car.” I take the ticket from his hand and rush out of the room, trying to ignore the look on his face. The look that says what my heart fears.

  As I wait for the valet to bring Grey’s car around, I send out a silent wish. I wish for this to be some crazy misunderstanding with a very logical explanation. Like m
aybe Charley ran out to pick up a last minute gift for Grey. Or maybe she had a sudden craving for Mexican food from a street vendor downtown.

  I slip behind the wheel of Grey’s sporty car, feeling cramped in the small space, a strange feeling in comparison to my oversized SUV. I follow the signal from Grey’s phone as it leads me south along the waterfront, deeper into the city. I pull the car over on a rundown street, beneath the freeway. A yellow cab is parked nearby and I can see Charley in the backseat. She turns and spots Grey’s car and I watch the initial shock register on her face. A moment later, she is walking toward me wearing a long, white terrycloth robe with the hotel’s logo on the breast pocket and flip-flops. She climbs into the passenger seat, closes the door and lets out a loud breath through her mouth.

  “What are you doing here, Charley?” I ask, clicking the door locks in place as I take in our sketchy surroundings. Her eyes are scanning a crowd of homeless men and women that are lurking a few yards away.

  “I just wanted to see him,” she says. And immediately it hits me. She came here to find our father. My eyes instantly settle on each face in the distance, frantically searching the crowd for him. I don’t see anyone I recognize, but it’s been so long. Would I know him? Would I recognize his face after all these years?

  “You’re not running away, are you?” I ask, needing to know what’s going on in her head. “Because Grey loves you so much, Charley. It’ll break his heart if you don’t go through with it.”

  She turns to look at me and I can see the tears pooled in her eyes.

  “He’s not here,” she says. “I just thought if I saw him again, I would know what to do.”

  “What do you mean, Charley? Are you having second thoughts? I thought you wanted to marry Grey? I thought that you were finally ready?”

  “I was ready. I mean... I am ready. But I just don’t know... I don’t know if I can do this.” She turns away from me, scanning the crowd again.

  I take a deep breath and twist my body in the small seat until I’m facing her side of the car. “Charley, Grey loves you. He’s not going anywhere. I know that you’re scared but he’s been waiting for you, waiting to marry you for five years. Trust me. Trust in Grey.”

  “I’m pregnant,” she blurts out as she faces me again. As soon as the words leave her lips, her tears slip down her cheeks.

  I’m stunned but elated all in the same breath. “Oh, sweetie,” I gasp, reaching out for her and drawing her into my arms. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I’m scared, Gwen. I’m so afraid that I’m going to screw this up,” she mumbles against my shoulder. “I don’t think I can be somebody’s mother.”

  I pull back and grip her shoulders. “Look at me,” I say and she looks up at me with sad, puppy dog eyes and swollen lips. “You’re going to be an amazing mom. And you’re not alone. You have Grey. And you have me. And you have Mom. You have a full support system.” Tears are pouring down her cheeks and she closes her eyes. I gently shake her. “Look at me, Charley. You are not him. You are nothing like him.”

  She sniffs and nods and we look at each other, our eyes locking as if a silent pact passes between us.

  “Now let’s go get you ready. You’re getting married today,” I say with a smile, my mind whirling with Charley’s pregnancy news. An odd sense of relief lodges itself in the pit of my stomach knowing without doubt that Charley is going to need me now more than ever. I almost feel ashamed at the things that bring me comfort. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispers. I hand her a tissue from my purse, rev the engine, and take off back toward the hotel. I glance at the clock on the dashboard, thinking that we just might make it in time.

  I stand stiffly in my long dress; its light, sheer fabric blowing in the breeze as I watch Olivia and Max walk down the white carpeted aisle toward the arch where Grey and Charley will be exchanging their vows shortly. The bay sits in the background, bustling with sailboats, creating a view so sharp and flawless it’s as if someone painted it for this very occasion.

  Olivia’s blonde hair is swept up off her shoulders, showcasing her olive skin and the sharp angles of her arms and back. She looks beautiful and so grown-up in her steel-blue dress that matches my own. It calls to mind the passing of time.

  Time has slipped away, although I can’t say that it has gone by unnoticed. Each morning I wake and take in my surroundings, thankful for another day. It hasn’t been easy. Illness looms constantly; a simple cold lands me in the hospital for days. I endure blood tests, scans, doctor appointments, and the sixteen prescription medications that line the counter in my bathroom, out of my children’s sight. But I do it all for them, and I’d do it all over again if I had to. I move forward, taking one day at a time with the notion that none of us know what lies ahead. Anything could happen to any one of us at any time. And so I do whatever it takes, whatever buys me another day or another year to watch my kids grow, to be with John.

  I’ve learned to let go. To ask for help. To love without condition. To say aloud the words that I normally would keep to myself, knowing that I might not get the chance to say them tomorrow.

  Olivia and Max reach the front and veer to their respective sides. I can see the hint of Max’s dimples as he straightens his tuxedo jacket and gazes over the small crowd that has gathered to witness this special day. Even at ten, Max seems grown up, older than his peers, and every bit as handsome as John. Olivia stands confident, holding her small bouquet of lilies.

  Mrs. Preston walks down next, flanked by Grey’s brothers, as they escort her to her seat beside Grey’s father. John follows, escorting my mother to the front row, where she sits alone but without care. My mother has never looked more exquisite, happiness replacing the fine lines that once carved out her features like a road map of her past. As if the truth really has set her free.

  “Ready?” I hear from behind me and turn to face Charley. She is gorgeous in her white strapless gown that gathers tightly around her tiny waist, hugging her flowing curves at the hips where it bells slightly and stretches elegantly to her feet. She is radiant, timeless really, with her hair swept up save for the few curled tendrils that fall gently around her face. Although I see the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty that lies beneath her beauty, the vulnerability.

  “You look amazing, Charley.”

  “Thank you,” she says, blowing out a long, shaky breath through pursed lips. I watch her eyes flash past me and something settles over her face. An ease, a confidence that was not there moments before. And when I turn to follow her gaze, I see Grey standing under the arch with John beside him, fulfilling his best man duties. Grey is beaming at Charley with liquid eyes and Charley is wholeheartedly gushing. And all at once it hits me that Grey is Charley’s home. She has finally found her constant, her star to guide her, her true self. A lone tear slips from the corner of my eye as I feel the curve of a smile stretch across my face. Standing here, watching everyone I love bathed in happiness on a beautiful, sunny day fills me with a sense of peace, a fulfillment that I find hard to describe.

  I reach over and grab Charley’s hand and whisper, “I love you,” not wanting to hold anything back, wondering if I have ever told her.

  I feel her squeeze my hand and whisper back, “I love you too.” And then on cue, I grasp my bouquet, step forward and begin my walk toward everything that I love, feeling overwhelming gratitude that I’m here, that I get to be part of this day, that I am surrounded by so much love.

  Four Years After That...

  Charley

  The end came two weeks after Harper’s third birthday. As hard as Gwen fought, it was a moment of utter peace. Knowing the end is coming and the actual second that it does are two very different things. We are all holding up as best as can be expected.

  I see Gwen with each glance in the mirror, as if her hazel eyes are staring back at me. The one feature we have always shared, our one physical link. In the end, I struggled with the guilt of moving forward, the guilt of feeling so much happines
s in my life, a life that was only just beginning when Gwen’s own life was slowly fading to an end. Knowing that Gwen was fighting so hard to freeze time, to live in the moment, to never think of what lie in wait around the bend. But I see now that guilt is useless, a waste of time. Instead, I try to harness Gwen’s strength and live each day like she would, to be the kind of mother to Harper that she would be proud of.

  And when I feel as if it is all too much, I remember Gwen’s wish, to be fearless. And I imagine her flying in the wind, arms outstretched without a care in the world, feeling many things but none of them fear. And I think, I can do this. I can be strong for her.

  I’ve come to realize that love comes in all different sizes and shapes, all different faces. For my mother it looked like an ultimatum, a choice, a sacrifice. For Gwen, it came in the name of courage and surrender. And for me, it came through forgiveness. It came when I needed it the most, and fought it the hardest. They say that sometimes you don’t realize your own strength until you come face to face with your greatest weakness. I believe this to be true. Love came when I was most fragile, lifted me up and made me whole. I was wrong about love. It doesn’t rob you of your strength, tear you down, and leave you vulnerable like I had feared for so long. Love comes from within, builds you up. Love is my strength and I feel stronger than ever.

  Note From The Author

  This story was never intended to be about Gwen’s cancer or her battle with the disease but rather about what happens behind the scenes. It is about how people react and change in the face of devastating circumstances. Although I researched Metastatic Breast Cancer and different forms of treatment, Gwen’s experience is a fictional account and any mistakes are my own. I have met so many women, many of them young mothers like Gwen, who are fighting cancer or in some instances, living with it. I am in awe of their strength and their positive energy. And I am always surprised when I learn their story, because from the outside you would never know their internal battle. Out of respect for these women and anyone battling a life-threatening disease or accepting a terminal one, I leave that part of Gwen’s story to them. Because it isn’t my story to tell.