by Kira Adams
We meet at a local Thai restaurant, one Ciera and I both enjoy. It looks fairly empty, just a few scattered patrons, but we don’t see any solo males. We take a seat at a booth, and Ciera is fumbling with her shirt.
I throw my arm over her shoulder, squeezing it. “You look fine.”
She shifts her eyes to mine quickly. “How did you know?”
I shrug. “After you spend enough time with someone, you get to know their ‘tells’.”
She smiles slightly, but her eyes look sad. I know what she is thinking, and my heart squeezes from the thought.
It doesn’t get any easier as the time nears. If anything, the pain inside both of us becomes that much more unbearable. Even the idea that she might not be here after next week sends goose bumps throughout my entire body. I don’t want to remember what life was like before her. I just want her.
I press my forehead against hers lightly.
“You’re going to be okay, you know,” she says softly, her lip trembling.
I shake my head against hers gently. “I don’t know if I will be.”
She takes a shaky deep breath in. “You’re stronger than you realize, Topher. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
I sigh, feeling the warmth behind my eyes. “I don’t want to know what life is like without you.”
She smiles, but it’s forced. “You don’t have to. I’m always going to be with you,” she whispers.
“Ciera?” I hear a deep male voice ask.
Our heads pop up and a tall, dark-haired man with a goatee and brown eyes stares back at us.
Ciera glances at me quickly and then back to the man. “You must be Paul.”
He nods, emotion filling his face and eyes.
I stumble out of the booth quickly, reaching my hand out. “I’m Topher, Ciera’s boyfriend.”
He gives me a once-over, taking my hand in his and shaking it firmly. I move out of the way so Ciera can scoot out of the booth and do the same.
His eyes continue to rake over her face. “You look so much like your mother.”
She blushes as she shakes his hand.
I can already see the resemblance. They have the same face shape and big eyes, even similar teeth structure.
He slips into the booth across from us as we slide back into place. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”
Ciera nods gently, remaining silent. I know this is difficult for her.
“Your mother told me about what’s going on.”
I glance at Ciera and then back to her father.
He looks pained as she continues to remain quiet. “Ciera, I’m sorry.”
She inhales deeply, and then she finally opens her mouth to speak. “Where have you been? I used to ask my mother about you and she just told me you left. I know you were around when I was a baby, but I don’t remember you.”
He sighs uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “Ciera, things between your mother and me…well, they weren’t exactly healthy. I left to make things better for all of us.”
“You left and you’re trying to justify that you made the right decision? I’m eighteen years old! You couldn’t call or write for eighteen years?”
The pain Ciera has kept bottled up inside is slowly seeping its way out of her body.
He runs his hand over his hair, seemingly frustrated. “It’s not that easy.”
She stifles a laugh. “So, what, now that I’m dying it’s suddenly become a piece of cake to reach out to your own daughter?”
I shoot a worried glance her way. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
“I was young and naïve,” Paul says softly. “I didn’t know how to be a father.”
A tear slips down her face. “You didn’t even try. You just gave me up. I don’t know who you are, and soon it won’t even matter anymore.”
His face contorts as her words wash over him. “Ciera, you matter. You’ve always mattered. Did your mother ever give you the birthday cards I sent?”
Ciera looks back at him through narrowed eyes. “What cards?”
He exhales deeply. “Figures.”
“What cards?” she asks, more forcefully now.
The waitress is nearing our table, but I lock eyes with her to silently communicate that now isn’t the best time. Luckily, she catches my drift and approaches another table.
“Every year, in December, I mailed a birthday card to you. It wasn’t much, but it was my way of trying to reach out, trying to build a relationship. I never heard back from you, but I figured you were still angry with me for not being an active part of your life. The thought never occurred to me that she might not be showing you the cards at all.”
My stomach drops. Her mother kept the cards from her all these years. I’m not sure why she did it, but I assume she must have had a good reason.
“Ciera, I left when you were a baby, but I wanted to know you. I realized that a few years after I left. I made attempts. I guess I just didn’t try hard enough. I’m so sorry.” His eyes are watering up, and I can tell he is genuine.
Ciera is having a hard time with everything; it’s evident in her breathing. I rub her back softly, attempting to soothe her.
“I guess you should have tried harder,” she says bitterly.
He sighs. “You’re right. I should have, but I can’t change what’s happened in the past. I can only try to make up for it now, with the time we have.”
The air falls silent between the two of them as the waitress approaches our booth once more, and we finally order. As we wait for the food to be delivered, Paul breaks the silence.
“So, tell me about you.”
Ciera rubs the back of her hand against her forehead, shifting her blond locks out of her eyes. “What do you want to know?”
He smiles gently. “Anything. Everything. I want to know what you’re like, what you enjoy doing.”
She sighs, locking eyes with me.
I know he isn’t addressing the question to me, but I can tell she needs me to step in, so I do. “She’s a wonderful student. Before she had to stop going, she was one of the top students in the entire school. She made the honor roll.” I pause as she squeezes my hand lightly. “She works at the local theater to help out with the growing stack of bills, and she is the best big sister anyone could ever ask for.”
Paul’s eyes widen. “You have siblings? How old are they?”
Ciera speaks now. “Four and seven.”
Paul shakes his head slightly. “What happened to their father?”
“Motorcycle accident. They never got a chance to know him.”
Ciera has never shared this information before, and sadness washes over me. None of it seems fair.
“I’m sorry,” Paul says quickly.
Ciera shrugs. “It was very hard on my mother, but I did the best I could.”
He shakes his head. “You are so much stronger than I imagined.”
I squeeze her inner thigh reassuringly. “Yes, she is.”
“What do you like to do?” he asks.
She shrugs, a cynical look taking over her face. “It doesn’t really matter anymore.”
He straightens up. “It matters to me.”
“She likes to write,” I throw in. “She’s very talented.”
“Really?” His eyes light up as he examines her.
She averts his gaze. “It’s nothing really. Just a silly dream.”
“I’d love to read some of your writing sometime,” Paul says warmly.
“Yeah, maybe,” she replies, taking a sip of her water.
We spend the next hour at the restaurant, and then it’s obvious that Ciera needs her rest. Although I don’t understand fully why Paul never took responsibility as a father, I can’t fault him for trying now. He plans on staying in town for the next week or two. Ciera is hesitant to spend more time with him, but when he asks to exchange numbers, she does.
By the time we make it home, Ciera is spent. She makes her way up to the bedroom as I head to the kit
chen, hoping to grab a cup of tea. I’ve invited Madalynne and Mack over tonight, and I’m hoping Ciera can stay awake long enough to see them both. For some reason, the fact that they are coming feels so final. It makes everything that much more real. As I wait for the tea leaves to soak into my scorching hot water, I hear footsteps heading into the kitchen.
“She in bed?” my father asks as he takes a seat at the island. He removes his suit jacket, laying it onto the counter beside him.
I nod, blowing on my hot mug.
“How did it go with her father?”
Ever since Ciera has been staying with us, I’ve felt closer to my own father. I feel comfortable talking with him again, and when he doesn’t work late, we even share meals together some days.
I shrug. “As good as it could, I suppose.”
He locks eyes with me with a forlorn expression. “How are you doing?”
I inhale deeply. “I’m fine.”
My father’s eyes narrow. “How are you really doing?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been better?”
He exhales. “That’s an understatement.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask in an irritated tone.
My father’s face falls. “I want you to talk to me, Topher. I know it’s been a difficult year all around, but I want you to know you can trust me.”
What do you want me to say? I want to scream. My girlfriend is dying. My life was flipped upside down just by having her in it, and now it’s being turned around once again because I’m losing my reason for breathing.
My eyes well up with tears as I clench my fists tightly.
My father slips off the stool gently and takes a few hesitant steps toward me. When he reaches out for me, I break. The tears come out like a floodgate has been opened. I feel him pull me in close, his hand gripping my shoulder tightly. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just lets me cry.
I haven’t hugged my father since before I found out about Clarke and his sexuality. It feels strange, but comfortable.
“She’s the best person I know,” I choke out.
I can feel him nodding. “I’m so sorry, Topher.”
It’s the first time I’ve cried in front of anyone. It’s the first time I’ve let my emotions take over me in the presence of another person. Every night when I lay my head down, I am reminded that we are one day closer to losing her forever. I’ve soaked my pillows for a while now, drowning in my sorrows.
When I finally compose myself and pull away from him, he doesn’t let me go far. “I’m going to be here for you, Topher, every step of the way.” I nod gently as he presses his forehead to mine. “I love you and I am so proud of the man you have become.”
I pull back gently and look up into his eyes. “I’ve been a son of a bitch—how can you even say that?”
He shakes his head softly. “No, you just didn’t understand. But I can tell you’ve changed, and I know a lot of that has to do with Ciera.”
I nod. “I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for her.”
“You’d just be a little lost is all,” my father says softly.
I don’t know why he’s letting the way I treated him slide. God knows I don’t deserve it but I am thankful, nonetheless. I know I am going to need him more than ever in the coming weeks. I’m just happy we are on speaking terms.
When I finally make it back upstairs, I am surprised to see Ciera wide-eyed and awake. She is licking an envelope as I walk into her bedroom.
“I’m happy to see you’re still awake,” I say as I eye the clock on the nightstand: 9:26 p.m. “Madalynne is going to be here any minute. Mack shouldn’t be too far behind her.”
She finishes closing the envelope and then hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, a grin pulling at my lips.
Her expression is heartbreaking.
I take a seat softly on the bed next to her.
“I want you to read this, after I’m gone.”
I glance at the letter and then back up to her face.
Tears are beginning to slowly slip down her cheeks. “Promise me you’ll wait.”
I nod, tears welling up in my own eyes for the second time tonight. “I promise.”
I was one hell of person before Ciera, and after a few weeks of chipping away at my tough exterior, she was able to bring out the real me. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to open up to someone again like I have with her. I don’t know that I’ll ever want to.
I hope she’s right about us meeting in another life. I would find her a thousand times over if it meant we might get a better chance.
It’s funny that the girl I barely knew existed changed my life in ways I could have never imagined. I thought I knew where my life was headed, but she opened my eyes, showed me the potential I have inside.
I’ll probably never meet another person as incredible as her, but now that I’ve had a taste, I’ll never settle again. I’ll never stop searching.
28
Madalynne pokes her head into my bedroom, a hesitant look upon her face. “Can I come in?” she asks. She seems uncomfortable, as if she’s overthinking everything she says.
I nod, patting a free section of my bed.
Her facial expression grows serious. “Topher filled me in on everything. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It’s not exactly an easy thing to talk about. Oh, hey Maddy, I’m dying,” I joke, smiling slightly.
Madalynne’s face falls, her eyes sad. She lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my body tightly. “It’s okay to be scared,” she whispers.
Chills run through my body and tears begin pooling in my eyes, blurring my vision. Oddly enough, I’m not as scared for myself as I am for everyone I care about. I don’t know how my mother will handle it. I know Rose and Wes will be okay, but it will take time to heal. Mack and Madalynne are going to be sad for a long time, but they will be able to move past it. I’m most concerned with Topher and how he will act. I remember what he was like before, and I’m nervous he will revert back to his old ways. He’s come so far; I don’t want that for him.
Madalynne releases me and pulls back. There are tears rolling down her cheeks. My stomach clenches. “So,” she says, smiling and wiping the tears away with her fingers. “What do you think your last meal will be?”
My eyes widen, surprised by her question.
“What?” she asks. “We know it’s coming, it’s not something we can ignore any longer—so why not talk about it?”
I nod, surprisingly understanding what she is saying. “I don’t know, probably something fancy like a steak and maybe some lobster.” I chuckle. “You know Topher, he’ll go all out and probably have it flown in from Alaska or something crazy like that.” My heart tightens more, thinking about my looming deadline.
Madalynne grins, bobbing her head in agreement. Her eyes shift to the door, which is slightly ajar, and then back to me. “How is he taking it?” she asks.
I inhale deeply, my breathing becoming labored. “He’s taking it as well as anyone would after falling in love with someone.”
She nods in understanding. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to him. He changed, and for the better. He just found you, and now he’s losing you. Make sure you don’t miss your chance to tell him exactly how you feel about him,” she warns.
More tears are trailing down my cheeks. “He is the best thing that ever happened to me.” I barely get the words out.
Madalynne wraps her arms around me again in a comforting hug. “I’ll check in on him from time to time, make sure he’s not being a lame-ass punk.” She rubs my shoulder soothingly.
I bite my lip to fight back more tears and pull away from her.
Topher pops his head in the door. “Mack is here.” He locks eyes with me.
I nod.
Madalynne jumps up from the bed. “I should probably go.”
“Maddy,” I call out to her back.
She stops walking and spins around,
her eyes inquisitive.
“Why didn’t you ever judge me? Your entire group hated me, but not you. Why?” I ask curiously.
She scrunches up her nose as if she is thinking. “You were just another human being. I never judge anyone before experiencing them in their entirety. We had no classes together, and I didn’t even know who you were that day in the bathroom. I just wanted to treat you with the same respect I would have wanted.”
I swallow, taking it in. “Thank you.”
She smiles sadly. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.” One single tear trickles down her cheek and then she spins on her heel and bounces out the door.
Topher looks at me, his eyes glossy. He takes a few strides toward me then joins me on the bed. “What are you doing?” I ask, eyeing his body language.
He sighs, his breath shaky. “There are not enough apologies in the world for what my friends and I put you through. You didn’t deserve it, any of it. I shouldn’t have played a part in it. I am so, so sorry.” His words are genuine, and I know his heart is pure.
“People make mistakes,” I reply before he presses his finger against my lips, silencing me.
“That wasn’t a mistake—it was a monumental fuck-up. I promise I will never put anyone through what I put you through. That sounds so messed up, but I mean it,” he says.
I smile. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of the man you’ve become?”
He squeezes his eyes shut, but a tear escapes, sliding down his cheek. He presses his head into my shoulder, and I feel his breathing, which is uneven. I lift his face up so he is staring me in the eyes. His eyes are hollow and dark, sadness emanating from them. “I don’t want to remember what the world was like before you,” he whispers.
I exhale, letting his words wash over me. “In one year, I felt every emotion imaginable: sadness, hopelessness, happiness, even guilt. In one year, I kissed a boy and fell in love. In one year, I was able to realize the reason for living. It’s love, and it’s you. Hold on to that. You did that for me. You were selfless.”
