Dear Tori

by Renee Fowler

  “I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t ride out on your motorcycle.”

  I look at the sky before climbing in my truck. “I thought it was supposed to rain.”

  “If it does, maybe we’ll see a rainbow after it passes and the sun comes back out. We can knock out two charms in one day.”

  I start to crack up. “Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

  Tori gives me a warm, teasing smile as she settles in beside me. “I just like to be efficient.”

  “You did pretty good out there on that horse, Tori. Better than me by a mile.”

  “I managed not to fall off anyways.” She lets out a soft sigh and pulls on her seatbelt. “I used to compete in shows when I was younger, but… it was still a lot of fun today.” Tori paints another smile on her face, but it’s not quite as bright as before.

  As we drive back out to her place, I’m remembering Tori when we first met, the sweet but anxious fifteen year old girl who was a total perfectionist. She was so high strung and determined to do everything right.

  She had loosened up a lot during the time we were together. I guess you could say we rubbed off on each other, because when we first met, I didn’t give a shit about anything.

  But in Tori’s mind we never met.

  I’m starting to think at her core, she’s a lot more like that little-miss-perfect, overachiever I first knew than the girl she grew into, the one I lost that night at the falls.

  By the time we get back to her place, the rain the weatherman was calling for pours down in sheets, and jagged lightning flashes in the distance. “You ought to come in and wait out this storm,” Tori says.

  We run through the rain, but still end up half soaked by the time we reach her porch. Tori shirt clings to her like a second skin, and her nipples pucker from the cold rain. It takes everything in me not to gawk as she unlocks the door and pushes it open.

  “Where’s everybody at?” I ask.

  “Maggie might’ve taken Brandon to see her sister. They’ll probably be back before long.”

  Tori has me wait in the front hall while she goes to grab us each a towel. I dry off a bit, and toe off my boots my the door.

  She leads me through to the kitchen, and asks if I want something to drink. Before long we are both settled in on the porch swing out back, and I take a long drink from my glass. “I forgot about Maggie’s iced tea. I don’t know what she does to make it taste like this.”

  Tori shrugs and laughs. “I keep forgetting you knew her. You might know her better than me.”

  “I don’t know if I’d say that. You two seem pretty close now.”

  “We’ve gotten closer since I moved back.”

  It doesn’t seem real that Tori moved off from her family and barely kept contact, but I guess she’s not the same person I remember. Maggie said that to me years ago, just a few months after she came out of that coma. Tori was different.

  Something has changed about her, but it’s hard to put my finger on what exactly. She still has that same pretty smile, but it doesn’t light up her face as easy as it used to. When she laughs, it’s a bit quieter.

  Tori sets her tea on the porch rail, and grins at me. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I watch the storm rolling in across the fields for a few moments. Swirling black and grey clouds carry in a cool wind that makes the trees sway and flattens the tall grass against the earth.

  The screen door bangs shut behind Tori, startling me. She’s changed into a dry top, but her hair is still hanging in damp tendrils around her face. The rusty chains holding up the porch swing squeak as she settles in next to me.

  Grinning from beside me, Tori opens up her hand to reveal that bracelet, and she’s already fixed the little horseshoe charm on one of the links. Without being asked, I work the clasp at the inside of her wrist.

  She pulls out the folded over and crinkled envelope containing the other charms, and begins to sort through them. “So which one are we doing next time?”

  I shrug. “What’s wrong with me surprising you?”

  “I hate surprises.”

  “Since when?” I ask, barely able to hold back a laugh.

  Tori blinks at me a few times. “Did I used to like surprises?”

  “Nah, not really. You always liked to plan things out ahead of time.”

  “How about we compromise? We can pick one at random now, but I’ll know what to expect.”

  “We can do that if you want.” I start to brush aside a piece of her damp hair, and stop myself when she stiffens slightly. Being this close to Tori again and not touching her is almost impossible. I remind myself for probably the hundredth time that I’m practically a stranger to her.

  Tori holds the envelope out towards me. “You pick, but close your eyes. No peeking.”

  I clamp one hand over my eyes, and plunge my hand into the envelope to pluck out the first charm my fingertips brush up against. Tori lets out a nervous chuckle, and I open my eyes to see the infinity symbol pinched between my thumb and forefinger. “Maybe I better pick again,” I suggest.

  Wearing a small, embarrassed smile, she nods.

  I try again, and this time I grab the tiny fish charm. “You’re the one who taught me to fish.”

  “Me?”

  “Yup.”

  “How old were you when we met?” she asks.

  “Almost sixteen.”

  Tori frowns.

  “It’s not really the kind of thing my old man did,” I explain.

  “I guess we grew up really different.”

  “That’s one way of putting it, and it’s not like there’s a lot of good fishing spots where I lived.” Some parts of Detroit aren’t too bad, but the part I lived in was complete and utter shit, and if not for Tori, I would’ve ended up right back there.

  When I first landed in Brockton, I hated it. I hated Buck, and the fact that he expected me to actually go to school, and come home at a certain time. I didn’t know anyone here, and I had friends in Detroit. My dumbass actually wanted to pick up where my dad left off. I had connections, and I knew how to hustle. I planned on scraping together enough money, and running away back to where I came from at the first available opportunity.

  Then I met Tori, and I found a reason to stay.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tori

  It’s warm and beautiful the day Noah picks me up to go fishing. He’s driving his truck again, and this time he brought along his dog Lola.

  “We could just go to one of the ponds on the farm,” I suggest.

  “Nah. I was going to take you somewhere we used to go sometimes.”

  “The falls?”

  Noah shakes his head fast towards the windshield as we start to drive.

  “Maybe we should go back there together sometime. I haven’t been back for years, not since a little bit after my accident.”

  “I haven’t ever been back.” His knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, and his posture is rigid.

  “It was just a suggestion.”

  Noah shrugs and throws me an uneasy smile.

  “So where are we going?”

  He laughs. “You’re just gonna have to be patient.”

  “Is it far away?”

  “You really don’t like surprises, do you?” He reaches over, like he means to grab my hand, then thinks better of it. Noah gives Lola an affectionate pat, then turns his attention back to the road. “It’s not far. We’ll be there before you know it.”

  I swallow back an impatient sigh. For some reason I wanted Noah to touch my hand. I want him to touch more than that, which is confusing and weird. I barely know him.

  Christian is the only man I’ve ever been with, I think. Maybe not for all I know, but he’s the only one I remember, and I made him wait an inordinate amount of time before we took that step. I’m fairly certain I wasn’t a virgin when we met, but I sort of felt like one. Without those memories, I was as good as one, skittish and unsure. I’m kind of surprised Christian stuc
k around that long. Shaking my head, I scratch behind Lola’s ear, and try to put him out of my mind. It’s silly to waste time thinking about him now. With me here, and him in Miami, I doubt I’ll ever see him again.

  Lola is stretched out on my lap, her head half hanging out my open window as Noah steers us down a series of winding, country roads. Before long I spot the glimmer of water through the trees, and realize we’re heading to the river.

  I wonder why we used to drive all the way out here to go fishing, then I remember what Maggie said. Dad didn’t like Noah. That fact alone makes me uneasy because my father always seemed to like everyone.

  We pulled onto a rutted, narrow lane that led right down to the river. There is a small, empty gravel lot and a boat ramp. We both get out, and Lola clings right by my side. “Need me to help you carry something?” I ask.

  “Nah, I got it.” Noah throws me a big smile that has me breathless and flush for some reason.

  Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I try to rationalize the butterflies in my stomach and the sudden wave of prickly heat across my body. It’s warm out, and maybe I’m nervous. I probably should be nervous. I don’t really know Noah, and I let him take me to this secluded spot? Even though Maggie remembers him, she hasn’t seen him for years. I’m usually a lot more cautious than this.

  Noah hoists the fishing poles and tackle box out of the bed of his truck, and freezes. “What’s wrong?”

  I shrug, and blink a few times as I get a very vivid image of a much younger, bare chested Noah standing with the muddy river to his back, perhaps in this same place. He was holding a fishing pole then too. “We have been here before.”

  “We sure have.”

  Relaxing a degree, I go up on tiptoes so I can reach into the bed of the truck for a small cooler he brought along. “You had longer hair,” I say.

  Noah runs a hand through his short, dark hair. His smile this time is a almost sheepish. “I eventually came to my senses and got a real haircut. I looked like a fuckin’ idiot.”

  “I bet it was long enough for a ponytail,” I say with a teasing laugh. The sound dies out as another vague impression washes over me. “You let me french braid it once.”

  Shaking his head towards the sky, Noah laughs and rolls his eyes. “Of all the shit you remember, it had to be that?”

  I’m trying and failing to hold back a huge grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll probably forget about it again soon.”

  The smile winks out on Noah’s face, and we fall into a somber silence as he leads me along a narrow footpath that trails away from the parking lot.

  “This used to be our spot,” Noah says, dumping the fishing poles and tackle box on the ground. He grabs the woven throw over his shoulder and spreads it out on a flat spot near the river bank. Lola circles around a few times, and plops down, taking up half the space.

  That sounds so strange to my ears—Our spot.

  We get settled in on the blanket. Thanks to Lola, we’re forced to sit close enough that our thighs touch. I sweep my hair over one shoulder, lifting it off my neck and trying to cool off. “Do you have any old pictures of us together?” I ask.

  “I’ve got a few back at my place.”

  “You’ll have to show them to me sometime.” Despite the letters, and the fact that Maggie remembers him, there’s a part of my brain that can’t make sense of it. Noah is ridiculously good looking. He could probably get any girl he wants, which makes all the trouble he’s going to now so perplexing. Maybe he is really just trying to help me regain my memories.

  “Did you do any fishing while you were down in Florida?” Noah asks, flinging open his tackle box.

  I shake my head.

  “Never? I thought you lived down there for years.”

  “I didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

  “What about prince charming? He never took you?”

  The thought of Christian fishing makes me laugh so hard my shoulders shake. “He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty.” I pause to peer down into his tackle box, then look around at everything else he brought. “You didn’t get any real bait?”

  Noah gives an embarrassed chuckle. “I don’t always like to get my hands dirty either.”

  I hoist myself up, and wander close to the shore. Lola pads over and sniffs as I overturn a handful of small, flat rocks until I find what I’m looking for. When I return with two, fat, writhing earthworms Noah eyes me warily. Choosing not to give him a hard time, I go ahead and bait his hook too.

  We fall into a relaxed silence as we cast our lines. Usually this type of silence unnerves me with another person, but it feels natural with Noah. Then I notice him staring at me out of the corner of his eye with a faraway look I can’t quite place. He looks sad, I think.

  Maybe he’s sad because he’s starting to figure it out. I’m not the person I used to be. I’m nothing like the old me.

  Ugh. This is precisely why I left in the first place. I never have to worry about things like this when I’m around people that didn’t know me before.

  Noah’s bobber splashes along the surface, distracting me from the pathetic pity party I’m throwing for myself in my own head. Standing near the shore, he reels in a smallmouth bass.

  Lola takes notice of the commotion, standing up and wagging her tail expectantly as he removes the hook cleanly and tosses the fish back into the gently flowing river.

  My mouth falls open. “I thought you said I taught you how to fish?”

  “You did.”

  “Noah, you can’t just throw the fish back like that. It’s bad luck.”

  He starts to crack up. “There’s no fucking way I’m kissing a fish. Go ahead and call me a pussy if you want, but it’s not happening.”

  “Well, we better start looking for that four-leaf clover then. Otherwise there’s no telling what might happen. That’s terrible luck. I think you just cursed us.”

  “There you go again. Trying to earn two charms in one day.” Noah sets his pole down, and settles himself down beside me. “I really do think you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  Our shoulders are pressed together. His leg is flush against mine. “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” I say quietly, all the laughter draining out of my voice. I pull my legs up and hug around my knees to keep from touching him.

  There is something almost scary about Noah. It’s not him specifically, I guess. I think it’s my reaction to him. Pressing my lips together, I try not to think about how close his mouth is to mine, how easy it would be for one of us to lean over and close that small space between us. Clearing my throat, I turn my attention back towards the river and a small speedboat zipping past near the other shore.

  I almost want to ask him if I was always this awkward and strange around men, around him, but it’s too embarrassing so I keep that question to myself. “Did we really find a four-leaf clover before?” I ask.

  “Yup. We were at… I think we were out behind the school. I can’t really remember now. You said you were going to save it forever.”

  “It might be pressed in the pages of one of my old books.” There’s still a bookcase full in my room. My dad really did like to save everything. “But it doesn’t count unless we find a new one.”

  Noah grins at me and nudges his shoulder against mine. “Are there any other rules to this game you’re forgetting to tell me?”

  I shake my head quickly. Game? I guess it does all feel a little like a silly game, and I feel a little silly and out of my element seated beside Noah. We aren’t even pretending to fish now. Both of our poles lay nestled in the weeds.

  Lola sits up, and lays her head on my knees. I brush my hands along her sides.

  “You’re sad,” Noah says, out of the blue, completely catching me off guard.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Lola thinks so. She can always tell.”

  Am I sad? Maybe a little. Noah seems so nice, like a nice, normal guy, one who just happens to be handsome and down to earth. When he figures ou
t that I’m not the person he remembers, he’ll make some excuse to never see me again.

  “Tori?”

  “I’m not sad,” I state plainly. “But this probably isn’t going to work, you realize that right?”

  “What isn’t going to work?”

  “My memories aren’t going to come back like that.” I snap my fingers for emphasis.

  “They might. You’re already remembering some little things.”

  I almost want to laugh. I’ve seen those movies, and maybe Noah has too. Someone gets bonked on the head, and near the end of the film there is this magical moment set to the tune of dramatic music when everything lost gets returned. They’re fixed in an instant. Fairytale amnesia. “I’ve been remembering little things, and forgetting them again for years now,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t have asked you to do this, Noah.”

  “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “Ask Lola. She’s been my plus one to all these fishing outings for a while now, and she’s never bothered to scrounge up worms, or bait my hook for me.” Noah stretches back, reaching towards the little cooler. His shirt rides up a few inches, and I’m treated to a view of his midsection before I turn my head. He grabs two beers, shakes off some of the melted ice clinging to the sides, and hands me one. “It’s about the journey, not the destination, right?”

  “You’re full of inspirational quotes, aren’t you?”

  “It’s better than being full of shit.” Noah smiles at me, and I feel my lips forming a smile too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Noah

  “No offense man, but that sounds cheesy as fuck,” Trevor polishes off his beer, and motions for the bartender. “You ready for another?”

  I shake the half full bottle that’s gone warm, the same one I’ve been nursing for an hour. “Nah.”

  “She’s gotta be fine as hell if you’re going to all this trouble.”

  “She is, but it’s more than that. Tori is…” I let my words trail off. God knows why I’m telling my cousin any of this. We reconnected a few years ago, when he rolled into town looking for a place to lay low. He never knew Tori, and I guess to the casual observer, the whole thing does sound cheesy. The old letters. The charm bracelet. Taking her back to all the places we used to go.