by Jillian Dodd
Cooper flies in the room. "What the hell are you doing?"
I stand back slightly, giving way to him, and scream, "Punch it Cooper. Punch it!"
"You're hysterical and you need to calm--"
"Punch!"
"It!"
"Now!"
He shakes his head, but then stands back and hammers the wall with his fist, cleanly breaking through.
I see light and push him out of the way, shoving my arm through the hole and yelling, "B!"
All of a sudden a hand grabs mine.
I start crying.
And I know.
I am finally home.
At some point the firemen come into the room. I don't let go of B's hand until the wall comes down around us.
I start crying again when I see him.
His blond hair is matted, his skin looks pasty, his grip is weak, but those blue eyes reach way down and grab my soul.
Kiki jumps on B, showering him with wet, sloppy kisses.
And I wrap my arms around him and hug him with all my might.
"Are you okay?"
He hugs me tighter than he ever has before. "I am now. Is he really dead?"
"Yes. It's over, B. It's finally over."
Damian is crying too as he wraps his arms around both of us.
"I thought we were all going to die," he says. "Keats, you are absolutely crazy, but thank god you are."
The three of us continue our group hug and the rest of the world fades away.
"How did he get you here?" I ask B.
"I'm not sure. All I remember is walking to my bike. Then I woke up here. He's seriously deranged. And obsessed with your mom's movie. He talked about Lacey, Abby, and Keatyn as if they were one person. Did you see the walls?"
Brooklyn motions around to the walls of the room, which are covered with photos.
Stills from A Day at the Lake.
A poster of my mom.
Photos of her and my dad.
A newspaper article about his mother and stepfather's mugging and death.
A press release about A Breath Behind You Films.
A still shot of the ending of his grandmother's movie, where they are lying in the sand kissing.
Brooklyn points to an article about my dad's plane crash. "He admitted to tampering with your dad's plane. He wanted Abby for himself."
My eyes fill with tears again. "That's why my dad talked to me," I say out loud.
"What do you mean?" Damian asks.
"When Vincent tried to kidnap me, a voice--a voice that I recognized as my dad's--told me what to do. It was just a few words. But they calmed me and helped me get away from Vincent. And, today, it was the word ashes. Twice. Once to help me find B and again before I grabbed the bomb."
"How did the word ashes help you find me?" B asks.
"When Vincent's grandmother died, I helped him spread her ashes. He told me her love story and how he was buying the house up the beach--this one--for her. When it wasn't on the list of properties where they had searched for you, I knew it's where you were. And then when I heard it again, it reminded me of how he tossed the urn out into the ocean. I did the same thing with the bomb."
Brooklyn rubs his face, trying to take it all in.
"He drugged me. Told me about all the bombs. Are your mom and Tommy dead?"
"The bomb in France killed the girls' nanny, but everyone else is okay."
"And Tommy's trailer?"
"For a while we thought he and my dad were dead," Damian says somberly. "Fortunately, they weren't in it and there were only some minor injuries to a few people in the vicinity."
Brooklyn turns me around to face the wall dedicated to me.
Photos of my life.
A large poster made from the still of me turning around and blowing Vincent a kiss.
There are notes, scripts, character profiles, and story arcs.
"Right before he drugged me the last time, he told me he was going to get you. That if he made it back, I'd be famous. That we'd all star in the most epic reality movie ever. And that if he didn't make it back, I'd be famous too. Because I would die when the bomb went off."
Tears stream down my face, thinking of what he must have gone through.
He hugs me, says, "I love you," and kisses the top of my head.
Cooper says, "The medics need to check you out."
B shakes his head and says, "I wanna go home."
"We are home," I say. "Let's get you looked at."
"You too," Damian says. "You're bleeding again."
The medics check us all out. Brooklyn is still a bit woozy, but they determine it's just the lingering effects of the drugs and release him.
"We'll handle everything here," Cooper tells me, nodding toward Garrett. "You guys go home. If the police want to question Brooklyn, they can make an appointment."
"That sounds good," B says.
Damian, Brooklyn, and I make the familiar walk down the beach with Kiki in tow. She's running ahead of us, prancing through the waves and digging in the sand.
It's a beautiful day and it almost feels normal, like we're walking home after a day of surfing.
We walk by B's house and down to mine, file up on the deck, collapse on the day bed, and stare quietly out into the ocean.
Each of us lost in our own thoughts.
And happy to be alive.
It doesn't take long for our few moments of solitude to be interrupted.
Brooklyn's mom and dad arrive together, whatever issues they had in the past seemingly forgotten amidst concern for their son.
The police have lots of questions.
Tommy and Matt arrive from New York.
Cooper contacts the reporters from the dance, who hop on planes immediately.
I do their interviews as promised, telling them everything up until the point when Vincent died.
The best part, though, is late at night when Mom, James, my grandparents, and the girls arrive home from France.
Brooklyn, Tommy, and I get hugs and kisses, but the girls seem even happier to see Kiki.
"My bad Kiki! I'm home! I was on an adventure just like you!" Gracie yells.
"A little too much adventure," B says to me under his breath.
"You can't call her Bad Kiki anymore," I tell them. "She's a hero and a very lucky dog."
"Let's call her Lucky!" Avery suggests.
Gracie gives the dog a strangling hug. "Bad Kiki, do you like the name Lucky?"
The dog gives her a sloppy kiss up the side of her face.
"She likes it!" the girls shout.
"Lucky! Lucky! Lucky!" they yell.
"I like that name. You girls are pretty wound up."
"They were awake the entire flight," Mom tells us, looking exhausted. "We need to get them to bed."
Gracie pulls on my hand, leading me toward her room. "I show Kiki something!"
"I wouldn't show her, Gracie," Avery says. "She's gonna be mad at you."
Grace sticks her tongue out at Avery, then turns to me with a grin and pulls me through the living room, down the hall, and into her closet.
She waves her hand at five pairs of my high-heeled shoes.
"Why do you have my shoes in here, Gracie?"
"Cuz when Kiki went on adventure, I go in Kiki's closet. These shoes missed you."
"We never told Mommy on her," Ivery confides.
"I took care of Kiki shoes," Gracie tells me. "I pet them. Talk to them. Wear them."
I give her a big hug. "Thanks for taking care of my shoes, sweetie. I really appreciate it."
She gives me a satisfied grin and says quietly, "They want to live with me now."
"Hmm," I say, pretending to deal with her. "Is it okay if I borrow them sometimes?"
She nods, her little curls springing around her face. "I let you wear them. I told Mommy I want to be on TV. That I promise to be good." She picks her Pooh Bear off the floor. "Watch." She sets Pooh on her bed and says, "Mr. Pooh, I think you should change your name,
because it's like dog poo. And dog poo is yucky." Then she pretends to be Pooh, holding him up in front of her face and talking in a deeper voice. "I don't want to be named Pooh. I want to be called Mr. Bear." Then she puts Pooh out in front of her and replies in her voice. "I think Mr. Bear is a lovely name."
She shakes Pooh's hand and turns toward me and bows.
Of course, I clap.
"You will be a brilliant actress, Gracie, if that's what you want to be."
She gives me a neck-crushing hug, then screams when Brooklyn brings the triplets in to get ready for bed.
"Tell us a story!" Avery yells.
"Yes! We missed your princess stories," Emery agrees.
"Fine. Everyone on the bed!"
I smile at Brooklyn as Gracie sits on his lap.
Then I start telling the girls our story.
"Once upon a time, there was a girl."
"No!" Ivery says. "She can't be just a girl."
"Yeah," Emery chimes in. "She has to be a princess."
"Okay, fine. She was a Hollywood princess."
"Like me?" Gracie says.
"If that's what you want to be, Gracie, sure."
"Wait," she says as she leaps off his lap. "I need something!" She digs in a toy chest, pulls out a pink-jeweled tiara, and puts it on her head. Then she runs out of the room and comes flying back in with one of Mom's faux fur vests.
She does a little bow. "Okay, I ready!"
"So the Hollywood princess went to school, where she was popular, dressed nice, and dated the perfect boy. But the princess was sad."
"Why was she sad?" Avery asks.
"Because the princess worried too much about what everyone thought about her and not enough about what she thought of herself. And sometimes the princess was kinda mean to people."
"Was she a bad princess?" Ivery asks.
"Princesses can't be bad," Emery says sarcastically, shaking her head at her sister.
"So, one night after a big ball--"
"Was Prince Charming at the ball?" Gracie yells and does a twirl. "Did they dance and kiss?"
"Did she lose her shoe?" Avery asks seriously.
Gracie turns and looks up at Brooklyn. "I hate when I lose my shoe. Bad Kiki chewed up my red glitter shoes and I was very mad. I say, Bad Kiki! But, now, Kiki--I mean Lucky--is a good puppy. She very brave."
"I agree. She's very brave. But, no," I continue. "Prince Charming wasn't at the ball. And the princess was sad, so she went outside and sat on her beach. She wondered where her prince was. Sometimes she almost felt like she could feel him. So she made a wish on the moon. She wished she would find him."
They all speak at the same time:
"Did a bad guy keep them apart?"
"Was the prince in a dungeon?"
"Did she go rescue him from a dragon?"
"No, silly. The prince is supposed to rescue the princess."
"Well," I say. "There was a very bad man. He wanted to lock the princess away in a tower and keep her all to himself."
"Like Rapunzel?" Avery asks.
"Kinda. The princess was afraid of the bad man, so, to protect her family and her adorable little sisters, she ran away and hid."
"Where did she go?"
Emery raises her hand. "I know. I know! She went on an adventure!"
"She did. To a school where no one knew she was a princess."
Gracie grabs my face in her little hands. "Did she lose her crown?"
"Kinda. But she found herself."
"What do you mean?" Ivery asks, looking perplexed.
"When she didn't have to behave like a princess anymore, she got to just be herself."
Brooklyn touches my hand and says, "And she learned that she was smart, and strong, and a good friend."
"What about her prince? Did he rescue her? Did the bad man find her?"
"Well," Brooklyn says. "The bad man kidnapped the prince, so the princess rescued him."
"No," Emery interrupts. "That's not how it works. The prince rescues the princess."
B looks at me and grins. "Maybe the princess knows how to kick ass."
Avery pulls on Brooklyn's sleeve and whispers, "Ass is a bad word."
"So, did the princess give the prince true love's kiss?" Ivery asks.
"Under the stars?" Avery continues.
"No, I like it better when they kiss during the day. That's what makes the birdies happy. They chirp and fly around their heads," Emery says.
"Let's just say the story is still being written," I tell them. "But what's important is that the princess vanquished the bad man and now she's back home. With her little sister princesses."
The triplets leap on me in a group hug.
"Time for sleep," I tell them. "I love you."
As I kiss them each on the forehead, I'm overcome with emotion. This is what drove me. This exact moment. My sisters safe, happy, and home.
B grabs my hand and leads me out of their room. "So, would kick-ass princess Keatyn like to go out on the beach with me?"
"Princess Keatyn would love that," I tell him.
"I'll grab a couple beers. You go find us a good spot."
I go out the back door and wander down to the beach.
They're all good spots, but I'm drawn to one place.
The place I sat that night.
The night that seemed to set everything in motion.
The night I believed in true love and fate.
The night I wished for my perfect boy.
A lot has happened since then and I know I'm not the same girl. But, as I look up at the moon, I know that I got my wish.
B plops down next to me and hands me a beer.
We clink our bottles together and he says, "To being home." He looks out at the ocean for a moment and when he turns back to face me, his eyes are shimmering. He clinks my bottle again and says, "And to you. Thank you for saving my life."
"You're welcome," I say with a smile.
He shakes his head. "I still can't believe you picked up a live bomb and threw it in the ocean. Do you have any idea what it weighed?"
"It wasn't that heavy; like, five pounds, maybe."
"More like twenty."
"Hmm. Must have been the adrenaline."
"You didn't just save me, you know. They say that had the blast happened in the house, it would have taken out at least three homes--possibly more from the fires. Have you seen the crazy throng of reporters outside the gates? My dad says we should be out there talking about all of it. That you can't buy publicity like this."
"And how do you feel about it? Do you want to be interviewed?"
He shakes his head. "No. I don't."
"Other than the story I owed those reporters, I don't want to talk about it either, B."
"Were you serious about sponsoring me?"
"Absolutely. In fact, I have this production company. We're looking to sponsor a hot young surfer. Although, I seriously have to come up with a new name for it."
"What's it called now?"
"A Breath Behind You Films. The acronym of which is Abby."
"Pretty creepy."
"Exactly. I think the new name should remind us of this. Of all we went through. Of how we've both changed. I don't ever want to lose sight of what's important in life again."
B reaches in his pocket and pulls out a joint. "Haven't had one of these in a while; what do you think?"
"I think I love you."
"I love you too." He lights up, takes a few puffs, and passes it to me.
"Ahhh," I say, relaxing completely.
We don't say anything.
Just smoke in a comfortable silence.
"Captive Films," he finally says.
"Captive?"
"Yeah. Vincent held our lives captive."
"And we wanna hold our audiences captive."
He grins. "Exactly."
"That's perfect. You cool with having that name on your surfboard?"
"I'd be honored." He laughs. "You know, tonight reminds
me of that night. Your prom night. A lot has happened since then."
"I'm so sorry for everything, B."
He shushes me. "Stop feeling guilty. Vincent screwed up our lives, not you."
"I know. But you managed to get through it and become an amazing professional surfer."
He shakes his head. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? I can't wait to share it with you. Will you come to my next tournament?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
He looks at me wistfully. "You always look so pretty in the moonlight." He reaches out and touches my face. "Want to hear something silly?"
"Yeah," I say, leaning my cheek into his hand. His touch feels like it always has. Gentle and sweet.
"Remember your prom night?"
"Yeah."
"I'll never forget seeing you sitting here in your beautiful dress. The breeze blowing through your hair. You were staring at the moon, and I stopped right then and made a wish on it. I wished for you. Wished that you and I could end up here on the beach together."
Hang on.
I'm trying to process this.
Just give me a minute.
Two boys.
A country apart.
Who share the same birthday.
One whose name means fire.
The other, whose name means water.
Both made a wish when I did?
Except that B actually wished for me.
And, really, even though I wished for my perfect boy, technically, I was thinking of B when I made that wish. He was who I wanted to be my perfect boy.
"We've been through a lot to get back here, huh?" I say.
"Yeah."
He wraps his arm around me and I lean my head on his shoulder.
Like I've done so many times before.
He lifts my chin and kisses me. It's a good kiss. A kiss that speaks to me. A kiss full of what ifs. A kiss full of love and regret. A kiss that sums up our entire relationship.
A million emotions run through me. Each one hitting me like a wave. Happiness, sadness, regret, hope, and love. Lots and lots of love.
"I need you in my life, B."
"I need you, too," he says, wiping tears from his own eyes. "We've been given another chance at life, Keats. Let's do it right this time."
TUESDAY, JANUARY 10TH
Good to be home.
6:45am
I wake up to my alarm, wrap a blanket around my shoulders, and go out onto the deck.
The sky is still dark, but you can just see the sun's rays peeking up behind the house. I love the way the ocean looks as the sun rises, splashing color across it.
There's something so peaceful about this time of day. Something that calms me.
