Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Travis
PRESENT DAY
Being consumed by work lately has made me appreciate the simple pleasures, like going out with friends or visiting family, more than ever. I do my utmost to value those moments and bring them about as often as I can. So, once again, I opted to go see my mom today. It’s like stamping a passport.
Of all the things I love about my brother, nothing tops his jokes. And the one I enjoy the most is seeing him try to do push-ups and flexing muscles that are barely there. It’s like an addiction of his. His slim figure doesn’t make it better either, which is some complexity he aims to enhance. I’ve told him multiple times that, with time, puberty will do its work, but he insists on accelerating the process.
Simon whispers numbers as he pushes up and down on the flaming hot grass. “Twenty,” he finishes before standing back up.
I confess. I can see a faint visible line on his abdomen, showing a sign of abs. I won’t tell him, though. The last thing I need right now is an overconfident Simon.
He flexes his right arm again, frowning. “How about now?” he asks.
It’s been an hour since this question has been popping up. I can’t believe this is how I chose to spend my Friday late afternoon. In my mother’s garden, pretending to be impressed by my little brother’s physic. Life is sometimes weird.
“Keep going, buddy, you’ll get there soon enough.” I chuckle. “By the way, how did…” I stop and turn back to see if the tigress is around.
“How did it go with your classmate?” I ask. He falls to the ground and sits, clearly exhausted by his intense workout.
“Don’t tell Mom, okay?” I nod, inaudibly agreeing. “Seriously, if you tell her, I’ll no longer consider you my brother.”
I roll my eyes to the back of my head, calling his bluff. Nevertheless, I say what he wants to hear. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. So, tell me, what happened? Did you reject her?”
“I—” He runs his hands in his hair. “I told her I like her too and that we should?—”
“My boy!” I shout, interrupting him.
I walk towards him and he doesn’t waste time shushing me, putting me to a halt. “Sorry. I’m just so excited for you. So, do you have a girlfriend now?” I ask, still excited. I struggle to keep my voice as low as possible, but I don’t think we’re in danger of my mother hearing us.
“Yes.” He beams.
“Is that why you’re working out?” I laugh.
He looks down at his body, his hands caressing his abdomen. Seconds later, he plunges for another set of twenty, then fifty, and so on. Practice makes perfect, I guess. I go back to sit on the veranda facing the garden, shielding myself from the scorching sun. The glass door behind the chairs leads us directly to the kitchen, and I see my mother cutting up some fruits. Her hips move to the sound of faint music I can barely make of, and I sigh.
This is a normal day for me.
I’ve been avoiding the talk about my career for a while now, but I think it’s time I tell her. It’s not as if I’m completely stopping or anything. I just want to take a different path. One that doesn’t include staying in the dark and forcing myself to create. It undermines the purpose of why I wanted to remain anonymous. I wanted freedom, creativity, and choices of my own. It was me and me alone. Until I aided in an auction event, which launched my career and changed my perception of art. And now, all I do is work with the eyes of others. Mine doesn’t count anymore, and I abhor that.
“Are you staying for dinner?” The glass door slides open, and my mother walks out of it, holding a tray of perfectly cut fruits.
“Not tonight. I’ll be at Dan’s,” I reply, getting up to take the tray off her hands and on the table.
“How is he, by the way? I heard that curly-haired girl had rejected him,” she says.
Calling Raina, a curly-haired girl, is the closest thing to ignorant my mom could be. But I don’t blame her. She’d never made the effort to embrace the people the way I have, so it would make sense if she didn’t know in depth who she was. I don’t even think she knows we have a mayor.
But she knows how to gossip, though. Dan hasn’t been keeping his courtship a secret from anyone, that’s a fact, and even if he wanted to, it would be impossible to. But having to sit here and witness my mother gossip about one of my best friends wasn’t on my bingo card. But, I’d admit, Dan seems to be serious about her and would do anything to make her his. For him, that’s a first. He usually either gets what he wants, or gives up after the first rejection, but he’s still playing this game. Now, the entire town is watching to see if he gets the girl, including me.
“Word travels fast, I see,” I say. “He’ll be fine. It’s not as if it’s his first time.”
She sits next to me and places her legs on the table. We both watch Simon as he works out, his headphones boxing him and blasting music this time. I fancy the perfect picture painted in front of me. Casual moments like this are the reason I can’t stay away from this house and always come back, especially when Angelo is out of town for some business.
“What about you?” she asks, her gaze still stuck on her little one. “Any girl you have your eyes on?”
“No,” I blurt.
She sighs, and like that, I know whatever comes next will push me to not want to come back again. “Do you remember Emily Wilson? The young girl with a dysfunctional family in New York? She planned the Johnson’s wedding,” she begins.
Here we go again.
Whenever that name comes up, I know where things are headed.
“Mom!” I roll my eyes. If she considers Emily’s family as dysfunctional, then ours is mental with sprinkles on it.
“Anyway, she’s getting married to a prince in a few weeks. Her . A prince, Travis. A damn prince.” She emphasizes as if she’s trying to convince herself it isn’t true. Or at least, to convince me it is true. Honestly, I don’t know.
“And how does that concern me?” I pick a watermelon with a tiny fork and into my mouth. She pauses, and I get the message.
“I’m not getting married anytime soon, Mom,” I say, already exhausted.
“I’m not aging backward, Travis. I need grandbabies. And soon,” she hisses.
“Should I go impregnate some random girl, then?” I ask. A joke that doesn’t earn me a single laugh or smile from her.
Every year, we have this conversation, and every time, I stand my ground about the topic. It’s miserable to say this, but the marriage doors and whatever comes with it burned down immediately after the one I wanted to do it with lit it up and left. It’s done.
“This is not a joke. You’re in your late twenties without a wife, not even a girlfriend. You don’t even have eyes for a girl. What do you do in your free time, then?”
“Anything but this,” I answer.
She goes silent for a while. She should be able to predict my answers by now. Everything is like a routine with her, going back and forth, and eventually feeling bored. I love my mom, but sometimes I would like her to let me live my life at my pace, and not at the one she’s designed for me to follow.
“Are you still thinking about her?” her voice coldly drops.
“Who?” I devour another watermelon, gulping it with an audible sound from my throat.
“I know she’s back, Travis.”
I pause. My body tenses as I feel her gaze on me, piercing every piece of flesh on my body. She was bound to know eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. I haven’t even processed it yet.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I say, sternly shutting down the conversation before it even begins.
Her body shifts as it faces me, her legs off the table and knees pointing at me. Fuck . “You haven’t answered my question yet. Are you still thinking about her, Travis?”
“No. No, I’m not. We’re done, remember? She broke up with me a long time ago. I’ve moved on,” I dictate, keeping a level of nonchalance I never thought I had in me. Typically, my expression dulls whenever she’s brought up, but this time, I hold myself together.
Maybe I have moved on, after all.
“Wrong answer,” she says before getting up to head back inside. How’s there even a right and wrong answer to the way I feel? God, she’s something else.
I’ve moved on. That’s it. There’s no right or wrong about it. It’s the truth. I’ve moved on.
I didn’t stay as long as I had wished to at my mother’s. I couldn’t tell her about my break, either. That would have been fuel on the fire, and I couldn’t sit through another of her scoldings. Besides, I have all the time to tell her.
So, I ride my black pickup on the way to Dan’s. I’ve had it for a while now, basically a few months after Isabella had left. I don’t know why I even got it since everything is within walking distance, but I still love it.
Out of the four of us, Dan’s house is the furthest from everything, and every time I have to go there, I get excited. It’s close to having a road trip. A really short one, but still one. It drives me insane not being able to travel since I have a lot to do here, including keeping my mother down on earth and not somewhere reminiscing about her old life. An arduous task at hand.
So of course, I never say no to his invitations. And in addition, he knows how to cook a tasty meal.
I turn up the stereo for some ambiance as the road is chill and deserted, marking my presence. As I get closer to his crib, a familiar figure piques my attention. It’s not as if I was on some lookout or anything, but it automatically became my focus, like a magnet.
I slow down a little, driving behind her. Her back faces me, and her hair… her marvelous hair swings from right to left with every step she takes. My heart somersault for a second as I realize what I’m doing. What am I even doing? Following her like a stalker, and unable to do otherwise.
She gets intercepted by Morris, one of my former classmates’ father, and she loses balance. He seemed to come from thin air. I immediately halt, watching the scene before me. I shouldn’t be here. At all. I should put my hands back on the steering wheel and drive off to dinner. I should, but instead of doing that, I lower my window.
“Isabella?” Morris’ hands land on her shoulders as he stabilizes her, so she doesn’t fall.
“Oh, hi.” She sounds merry.
“You’re back! How are you?”
His hands still lie on her, and a sudden heat overwhelms me.
“I’m good. How about you?” she replies, slightly shifting to the side so his hands fall. Good, because I was seconds away from getting out of the car and doing who knows what.
The conversation cuts short for whatever reason and Isabella continues her path. I also do, as I keep a safe distance behind her.
I want to make sure she’s okay, even from a long reach.
As expected, she heads to the lake. The same she always finds herself at, either clearing her head from something or going for a naked swim. That routine never perished, even when we were seeing each other. I’m curious as to which one she’ll be going for this time.
Her legs barely keep up with her, making her look tipsy. I really shouldn’t be here. I can’t be here.
Huh. I stop on the side of the road and get out of the car. Shit. Shit. Shit. I seriously can’t be doing this tonight, but she doesn’t look like herself. Like my Bella.
I know I told her she wasn’t her , but I couldn’t be more wrong. No matter what, she’ll always be my Bella. My first love. The only one to not make me feel in control over myself. Like now.
I slowly walk behind her with my arms behind my back. I watch her go as her legs sway up and down like a kid. She hasn’t changed one bit.
“What is wrong with me? Why did I agree to come back here?” she speaks to herself. For the first time in about five minutes, I hear her voice. “This is far worse than torture.” Her tote bag swings along with her. She spots a tiny rock and plays with it on the pavement. “ ‘Isabella, how are you?’, “ ‘Isabella, welcome back.’ Never, Isabella, we’ve missed you, or you look prettier than when you left,” she continues.
I listen, and without even realizing it, a subtle smile forms on my face.
She halts, and the action stuns me. I quickly search for anything that can shield me. The pole, yes, the pole.
“Fuck these people. Pretending to care while gossiping behind my back. And it’s so obvious, too,” she says out loud this time as I hide. I don’t think she saw me.
She turns right to where the lake is, and I finally get out of my hideout. This is so ridiculous. What am I even doing?
I lose sight of her for a second, but then—“But you , I can trust you. You listen and don’t talk back. Thank God, too, because a talking lake will be the last straw to make me go insane,” she says. Her tone dims down in isolation, almost as if something is bothering her. I guess I never really thought of how she’d be feeling coming back to town like this. No, she’s fine. She has her friends to lift her up like in the old days. Colin and James are like her anchors. More so, I could never compete with them. She’s fine.
“Huh, I’ve missed this place. The calmness, the security, the stagnant waters.” She stands on the dock hovering over the indeed stagnant lake.
The surrounding lacks light as the sun slowly disappears. I swing my left wrist to check the time, and it’s past eight. I’m supposed to be at Dan’s by now. I should go. Yeah, I must go.
I turn on my feet to do so, but then her voice flows by me like the wind. “At least one thing hasn’t changed.”
Seconds later, the sound of the water splashing takes over. I turn to face her again, and nothing. The dock is unoccupied, and the sun completely runs off. The closer I get to where she was a second ago, the faster my heart beats. I don’t know what I’m scared of. The thought of her never being there in the first place or her plunging into the lake with thoughts no one wishes to have.
A deep breath escapes from my lips as I encounter her belongings at the edge of the dock. She might be on a naked swim, after all.
Maybe now is the time I should go.
But the surface of the lake is too calm. Way too calm for me to ignore.
“Isabella?” I yell over the vast and lonely waters. “Isabella, are you there?” My voice imprisons fear as I continue.
A second passes, then another, and another. No Isabella.
Fuck this.
Moving quickly and unsteadily, I unbutton my shirt, missing one button in between. I’ve never felt like this before. Like my entire world is collapsing like a flood over a land and I don’t know what to do to fix it. It’s unsettling. I lose patience and rip the button off, rapidly freeing myself from the shirt. Then I dive. Pants, shoes on, and a million worries.
My thoughts get filled with the last conversation I had with her and the things I had said. God, Travis! I shouldn’t have said those things to her, no matter how strongly I was thinking ofthem at that moment. I didn’t mean them.
I swim, searching for a sign she’s in here. None. This feels like the longest time of my life and it doesn’t seem to end.
As I attempt to swim back up to the surface to catch a breath, a hand grabs my belly and lifts me. I have no time to think and I let it control me back to the surface.
Air. Droplets of water slide down my face as I try to catch my breath and wipe some off from my eyes.
“Travis!” she says, a tinge of surprise in her voice. “Oh my God, what were you doing down there?” her voice is loud and full of worry, but I can barely focus on it.
Without even processing the fact that I’m in a lake with a very naked Isabella and with my torso on display, my arms wrap around her. I pull her in closer to my chest, placing a hand on the back of her head and the other on her back. Relieved she’s okay, and most of all, relieved my world didn’t collapse tonight.