by Allen, Dylan
“I don’t need a fresh start. This is my home. My whole future is here. And with James gone, he’s going to need me more than ever.”
She shakes her head and turns to face me. Her eyes are hard and glittering with anger.
“Is that what you think? Well, let me save you some time and heartache. If you stay in this town, all you’ll ever be is his daughter, and then, someone’s wife. Because that’s the only role he’ll ever let you play.”
I roll my eyes in dismissal of her words.
“Just because that’s all you ever were to him, doesn’t mean that’s all I’ll ever be.”
“Do you think that when I married him, that’s all I wanted? He took everything from me,” she says bitterly.
“He gave you everything. It’s not his fault you squandered it,” I remind her.
She narrows her eyes at me.
“I’m wasting my breath. One day, you’ll see I was right. The first time you want something that runs contrary to his plans for you, you’ll know him then.”
“Mother—”
“Mother. Who calls their mother mother?” she says and clutches her chest and looks forlornly at me.
My patience snaps and I whirl on her.
“A girl whose mother left her when she was only five to go live La Vida Loca in the South of France and didn’t show her face again for eight years. You don’t know anything about me. Or him.”
I say those words more to shut her up than because I believe them. I’m not sure that my father loves me. But I do know that he’s the only person I love who is still here.
She comes to stand beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn to look at her and this time, the sympathy in her eyes isn’t feigned.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You really don’t know your father, do you?” she asks softly.
I bristle. “That’s ridiculous. Of course, I do. Better than you do.”
She laughs softly. “You just see what everyone else does. What I did. He’s so charming. So handsome. So brilliant and confident and successful. Hmm?” She asks like she’s asking me to agree before she goes on.
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
She smiles and her eyes get a faraway look in them, like she’s remembering something wonderful. “When he smiles at you, it’s like the sun shining over you, yes? So much so that when he looks away, your world feels a little darker?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t have to.
She strokes the back of her finger down my cheek and then slides it under my chin to force me to look her in the eye. She scans my face, her expression full of regret. Something I’ve never seen her express.
“It was a mistake leaving you with him, I think,” she says.
I jerk my chin out of her grasp and glare up at her.
“I’m glad he raised me,” I say.
She smiles ruefully, her eyes full of sadness and then runs her other hand gently over my hair.
“Yes, I know you are. Because like everyone else in this town, you’ve been brainwashed into believing his bullshit.” She looks me intently in the eyes.
“I’m not brainwashed.” Indignation washes over me and I get out of my chair and walk over to the large bay window.
“I used to defend him, too. I made excuses for him, too. And then I fell in love. Love that set me free. It showed me what was missing. You should leave with me. Switzerland is beautiful; you’ll see. I couldn’t take you when you were a girl. I don’t know when they’ll let me come back. Please, if you left with me now, he couldn’t stop you. This place will suck all of the life out of you. Your father… He. Will. Never. See. You.”
She implores from behind me.
My heart is so heavy, that her words barely make a dent. She’s virtually a stranger.
I turn to face her. I try to see what James did. But all I see are the choices she made and how they affected my life. My father is the only person who hasn’t left me. I’m not going to jeopardize that for whatever pipedream she’s selling.
“There are so many rich men in that country, and we’ll make you so beautiful you’ll never have to work. And I’ve got so much to tell—”
Make you so beautiful.
Right then, I decide I don’t ever want to live with someone who feels like they have to make me anything.
Not ever again.
“Please leave. I don’t want to see you. You chose your life and left me to mine,” I say in a voice that’s as steady as I can manage.
“It’s too late for you to try and be my mother. I don’t want to come live with you and your criminal boyfriend that you loved so much that you left your family for him.”
“Oh Clover… I wish you’d let me explain.”
“I understand everything. I’m never going to forgive you.” I stand.
“Clo—” Her voice breaks, but I won’t look at her again.
“Don’t call me that.” It feels like an intimacy that we no longer share.
“I’m so sorry, Elisabeth,” my mother says quietly behind me. The sadness in her voice is unmistakable. I feel a wave of pity for her.
Impulsively, I walk over to sit in the seat next to her.
“Mother.”
She looks up at me hopefully.
Guilt makes her gaze impossible to hold. I look down at my hands.
“I know you lost James, too. I know that your loss is deeper and different from mine. I wish we had the kind of relationship where we could comfort each other. I could do with that, myself. But… I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I hope one day, that will change. Your being here is just making things harder. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I’m barely breathing.”
She grasps my hand hard. “Let me be here. If something happened to you, too. I know you don’t understand.”
I pull my hand free. “I think it’s best if you don’t come to see me again. There’s no point.”
A wave of dizziness sends me teetering. I grab the table to steady myself, and she rushes to my side and helps me down into the chair.
“You’re burning up,” she says.
“Come, chéri, let me take you to bed.” Her hair floats around, the smell of sunshine and flowers flings me back in time, and for a minute I’m six and her touch is comfort.
“Come, my darling Clover—” And just like that the spell is broken and reality slams into me. She’s going to leave and I won’t see her again until there’s another tragedy or whatever.
I flinch away from her and stand. The cold I’ve been fighting all week is getting worse.
“I don’t need you.” This time I make sure I don’t look at her face. I’m not going to let guilt hold me here.
“Goodbye, mother.” I turn and leave.
12
HOLDING MY BREATH
CARTER
“Today, I was watching a group of boys, they were maybe ten years old, climbing up to the roof of the library. That building is four stories high. My heart was in my throat the whole time. But it was only when they made it safely to the top that I realized I wasn’t holding my breath because I was afraid they’d fall. I was holding my breath, because I was afraid they wouldn’t. That’s terrible, right?”
Beth turns to look at me when she asks. It’s the first time she’s looked at me since we got to the church where she asked me to meet her.
“Why are you smiling at me?” she asks. Her blue eyes narrow in annoyance when I laugh at her question.
“Were you hoping I’d be scowling?”
She looks away sharply, and I grasp her chin and turn her back to face me. Her eyes are shadowed by fatigue and narrowed by anger.
“Is that why you haven’t looked at me once since you got here?”
She pulls her chin out of my hold and faces me straight as a raised pulpit.
“You shouldn’t be nice to me.”
“I know. You’re awful, but I can’t seem to help myself.”
She snorts a laugh that she suppresses quickl
y. “I don’t want to laugh. I wished harm on those boys.” She smacks my thigh. I place a hand on the exposed plane between her shoulder blades.
“You’ve got a beautiful back. You should leave it exposed more often.”
She arches her back, pushing her shoulder blades together.
“I’m only wearing this because everything was dirty. I feel half naked.”
“Half naked is a good look on you,” I observe.
She turns her head suddenly; her face is puckered and so fucking cute. I smile at her.
“Stop flirting with me.”
“I can’t seem to help it. I swear, I’m not a flirt.”
She’s dressed in shorts and a loose fitting dark green tank top that’s almost completely open in the back. I lower my lips to the base of her neck and press a kiss there. I think you should wear a necklace that dangles down your back. One that I can only see when your back is bare.”
She looks nostalgic.
“My mother had something like that. At least, I think so.” She yawns and closes her eyes.
I place a hand on her neck and stroke down, pressing into the toned muscles of her shoulders. She feels warm to the touch, but it’s the middle of the afternoon in the middle of May in Texas, and this church is not air-conditioned.
She drops her head back and sighs in relief.
“You need this.” I dig my fingers in a little deeper and she hisses.
“I think I slept funny.” She winces as I press a tender spot.
“I’m surprised you’ve slept at all.”
“I’m so tired. That’s why I’m having such terrible thoughts.”
Bitterness makes her voice brittle and deep.
Self-loathing comes off her in waves, and I know exactly how she feels.
“When my father got sick, every time I sat across from some industry asshole who probably had raped more women than he’d hired, puffing away at an entire pack of cigarettes during an hour long meeting, I’d wonder why they didn’t have lung cancer, but my father who has only ever helped people, runs marathons, and hasn’t smoked a day in life—did. The world needed people like him. None of those assholes would have adopted a kid when they already had two. I’m not proud of thinking that, but I’m not ashamed either. I don’t wish death on anyone, but in that moment, it felt unfair.”
She nods vigorously.
“Exactly. My brother was careful and loving and honest. The world can’t spare that. I can’t spare it. I need him back.” She takes a breath that’s scalloped by sobs and lets her head fall back as she searches the sky for answers that aren’t there.
I watch her helplessly for a second and then pull her into me. She presses her head to my chest and cries so hard her whole body shakes. My shirt grows wet under her cheek, and I stroke her head and shoulders and back until her sobs quiet.
She pulls away, sniffling and wiping her face with the back of her hands.
“God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m just glad I could be here. I wish there was something I could do.”
The church’s hollow quiet fills the space between us. Suddenly, she sits up and turns her body to face me. Her eyes are intent on mine for the first time all evening. It’s also the first full-on view I’ve had of her and I’m taken aback.
She’s pale, her forehead is shiny with sweat, her eyes are feverish, and her lips are dry to the point of cracking.
“Why are you looking at me like that?
“Whoa, Beth. Are you okay?” I press a hand to her forehead and cringe at how hot it is.
“I’m fine. I’m just tired and the walk over was exhausting.”
I shake my head at her skeptically. “You’re not okay,” I say and grab my phone to text my mother.
She texts back right away. I scan it quickly.
“My mom is asking if you have a headache?”
“Your mom?”
“She’s a doctor, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Yes, my head hurts. But it has for days. And my ears hurt, too.” She rubs the side of her face next to it.
“Anything else?” I send the new symptoms to my mom.
“My throat is sore. But I thought it was from crying.”
“Open up,” I say after reading my mother’s text.
“Huh?” she asks and brushes a hand over her forehead.
“I’m texting my mom. She said I should take a picture of your throat.”
She opens her mouth and I aim for the back of the throat with the flash on.
“Oh my God, don’t look at the picture.” She tries to take the phone from me.
“This is kind of the wrong time for vanity.” I hold the phone out of her grasp and press send.
“I felt okay when I left the house. Maybe I shouldn’t have walked.”
“You walked?” I gaped. It’s at least two miles, and it’s very hot outside.
“I don’t have a car. It’s easier to get away unnoticed that way, anyway.”
I glance at my watch. My dad needs the car back in an hour, but I can take her home at least.
“Is your dad gone?”
“Yeah.”
My mother’s next text comes in.
“Let’s get you home. Can someone there get you antibiotics if she called them in?”
“My dad’s doctor makes house calls. He’ll come. What does she think is wrong?”
“Strep throat.”
Her eyes widen in alarm.
“Oh no.”
I start to google strep throat.
“Let me get you home, see you up—”
She puts a hand on my arm, and I look up from my phone. Her eyes are serious. "You can’t walk me up. My father…he’s very strict. If he found out I was seeing you, he’d find a way to stop it.”
I frown at how extreme that sounds.
“Wow, is that a religious thing?” I look around the church.
“No.” I wait for her to expand on her answer, but she doesn’t.
“Okay…I’ll just drop you off.”
She nods.
“Outside the gate will be fine.”
I try not to take her clear reluctance to be seen with me personally. This is her life and I’m not going to be here to help her deal with whatever the fall out may be.
She sneezes.
“Bless you.”
“Sneezing is never a good sign,” she mutters and runs the back of her hand under her nose and grimaces.
There’s a box of tissues in the back of the pew in front of us. I hand her one, and she gives me a grateful smile and blows her nose.
“Thank you. It’s been creeping up on me. But, I couldn’t miss seeing you,” she says from behind her tissue. Her eyes water as she blows.
“I want to kiss you,” I say when she lowers the napkin.
“You’re turned on by the weirdest things.” She wrinkles her nose and I lean forward and drop a kiss on the bridge. She leans away.
“Carter, you’ll catch this whatever it is.”
“I just hate that I’m leaving and you’re too sick to do anything but lay in bed.”
“I’m not. I can come meet you again tomorrow,” she says and wraps her arms around herself.
“No. You can’t. You’re sick and you’re going through something really rough.”
“But…we’re not going to see each other again? This…is goodbye?” She searches my face.
“Hell no. You’re the cheesecake.” I say it without thinking. But as soon as I do, I know it’s true.
“Did you say cheesecake?”
I stroke her face and smile.
“I mean that we’re just getting started, and I’m nowhere near ready to say goodbye. I’ll call you. Text, whatever. We’ll stay in touch.”
She fixes me with a skeptical look. “While you’re on the Appalachian Trail?”
“Yeah, our carrier apparently has great service. And, if it’s not, I’ll call you when I can. And when I’m back from that trip, maybe I can come back for a couple of d
ays before I leave for my tour. Either way, we’ll stay in touch.”
She smiles and then winces. “Oh, God. My lips are so chapped, they hurt.” She runs her tongue over them.
“Here.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my Chap Stick. I spread it on her lips.
“Mmmm, that feels so good. Thank you. But now it has my germs.”
I put it in her hand and squeeze it.
“Keep it. A little something to remember me.”
“So…are we, like, going to be like… boyfriend and girlfriend?” Her eyes are expectant.
And suddenly, breathing feels a little harder. Those words make me think of things like explanation and disappointment.
I’m not sure that I can be intimate with anyone. And what happens when she finds out about everything? She’ll be horrified. Or when I start back on the show and that whole world crowds in on us. She’ll get tired of it and walk away. Or I’ll be weak and break even more of my own rules and end up hurting her.
I smile and say, “Let’s not put any labels on it.”
Her eyes lose some of their sparkle, but she smiles gamely.
“Well, no matter what we call it, the last few days have been awesome. I know a side of myself that I didn’t before.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, now I know, that given the chance, I can sit down with people I don’t know and have a great conversation. I’ve never been anywhere, but here. And now I’m going to get to travel with you—even though I’ll be seeing it through your phone’s camera. Meeting you was really good luck.”
Oh yeah…The cheesecake. I’m ruined.
I brush my lips very lightly across hers and smile when she whimpers.
God, I’m going to miss her.
“I promise, I’ll call.” It doesn’t make my heart race to say it.
“Don’t promise, Carter. Promises are bound to be broken. Just do it.” Her eyes turn solemn and I see that she and disappointment are intimate friends. I want to break them up.
“Okay. I’ll show you.”
13
GENEROUS
ELISABETH
My phone buzzes somewhere in my bed. I fumble around for it, but I’m too tired to sit up.
