Chapter 8
EIGHT
DANI
He knows there is something I’m not telling him. He has since that day, when we both received our acceptance letters to Dartmouth College. Vic is perceptive and has become an expert at reading people, especially their hidden intentions. But I may be better.
Now the day I have dreaded has finally come.
The realtor was true to his word, and Brandon sold Vic's house for more than he expected, even after he took his commission. As I look around at the empty house, I can’t explain the undeniable sadness that overwhelms me.
It's as if our book was written without a conclusion.
What will happen to us now? Will Vic ever forgive me for what I am about to do?
I just pray with everything I have left in me that last night wasn’t our last. We slept on the inflatable mattress in Vic’s room that we once thought of as our sanctuary, the walls stripped bare and closed up boxes placed in a corner with the only remaining items Vic keeps.
I stared up at the ceiling, but only saw memories, so many that I lost count.
I couldn’t help but remember all the times we lay there together, making plans for the future.
We were so sure of everything, and now nothing is for certain.
We stayed that way as long as we could, both of us not wanting to surrender to this moment where he leaves me behind.
Vic’s car is packed to the brim, and every last item is loaded up.
The car waits, idling until he makes the drive across the country to New Hampshire.
He plans to drive most of the way, straight through whenever possible, until sleep becomes necessary, and only then will he stop.
There won’t be anyone to take the wheel when the highway begins to blur and his eyes grow heavy with sleep, because he will be alone without me to assist with the driving.
He also promises to call. And I promise to answer.
It shouldn’t feel like a question, but I think he can sense it.
The distance is already pulling at us, unraveling at something we don’t have the words to acknowledge.
He stares at me with a hip pressed up against the metal of his car, like its magnetic hold will anchor him in place, stopping him from coming at me and dragging me along with him.
The vehicle is loaded with his sole remaining possessions, except for one box of photos I kept for myself, so I can look back at all our memories, tying me to Vic after he leaves.
I stand there, looking up at him, small beneath the heavy weight of our goodbyes, with my thumbs in each front pocket of my cut-off jean shorts, as if I, too, need something to hold onto—to keep me grounded.
We are caught in a silent standoff, each of us unwilling to speak first, afraid to rupture the fragile moment with words.
His dark, black eyes are burning into me, holding me steady under the weight of his stare.
I can’t bear the weight of them, like he can see inside my mind and my heart.
But it isn’t the man I love that’s looking at me now, it’s his obsession bordering on madness.
His passion has always been dangerous, but now, under his intense scrutiny, it’s ravenous.
So I look away, coward that I am, because if I meet his gaze for a second longer, I’ll cave.
The words clawing at my throat will release with fury.
Please stay, don’t go, and I need you now more than ever.
But the problem is that I know what he’ll do.
He’ll abandon the future he fought for, thinking nothing of dismissing the rare opportunity he was given that waits across the country.
He may never forgive me if he stays, but I know for sure that I will never forgive myself for denying him this chance.
Vic is the most brilliant man I have ever known, with a sharp tongue, endless curiosity, and a mind that never rests. If anyone deserves a chance to begin a new chapter, it’s him. I love it for him, but it doesn’t make this any easier.
I swallow back the cry that threatens to rip free of my throat.
Instead, I close the few inches remaining between us as my body begins to shake uncontrollably, and throw my arms around him.
He catches me without hesitation, folding himself around me tightly and resting his chin on the crown of my head.
That’s all it takes for the dam to break, as I fall apart in his arms. I expel it all from my body, purging all thoughts.
For the uncertainty about our future. For the absence of his touch that I already mourn.
For the sickness devouring my mother from the inside out.
And worst of all, for the way everything I love is rapidly slipping away through my fingers, just like the tears from my eyes.
So I do the only thing I can do—I ugly cry into his chest with all the anguish I’ve tried to deny feeling.
And he just holds me in his steady, silent embrace—letting me grieve not just him, but what I know is my life collapsing.
He rubs my back in a soothing rhythm that speaks more than words ever could.
When I stop to pull back and look up at him, his eyes are red, too.
Tears are tracking along his cheeks that remind me of the way a hard rain looked against the windowsill as he took me like a man possessed in the backseat of his car while we waited for it to stop.
“I love you, Dani.” His voice is steady as he looks me in the eye with certainty.
“I love you,” I repeat, much like the vows we made together in the dark, “forever and a lifetime more.” I reach up, sliding my fingers behind his neck, pulling him down to me.
Our mouths meet in a desperate kiss. He kisses me like it’s his last breath, and I kiss him like it’s my last time I’ll ever feel this alive.
Because the truth is, it very well could be.
When he discovers what I’ve done, will he forgive me for lying even if I had the best intentions? Will he see the love in my lie?
He pulls away reluctantly with his hands lingering along my waist as if he is trying to memorize my face in this moment.
Then he lets go, turning to grab his bag off the cement driveway, and hurling it into the passenger seat spot that was supposed to be mine.
He turns back, his eyes sweeping over me one last time.
Then he gently places his fingers beneath my chin, almost reverently, his fingers caressing my cheek, catching a stray tear.
Too many fallen to count. He lets his hand fall from my face, bringing his fingers to his lips.
“Until next time, baby.” His voice is husky and low, but it rings loudly in my ears along with the rapid beating of my heart.
He walks over to the driver’s side of the car and opens the door.
He places one leg into the driver’s seat, and one hand rests on the top of the door.
For a brief moment, he watches me and smiles, albeit a sad but hopeful one.
Resigned, he hits the top of the car twice and disappears inside.
The car door closes with a loud thud, much like the finality of our future.
We stay there for what feels like an eternity, in the exact moment in time frozen, not wanting to accept our separation, and just when I'm about to cave and give up, telling him not to go and how I am unable to do this alone, he puts the car in reverse. When he turns around to wave, I lose my nerve. I don’t stop him, and lift my hand to do the same.
It takes everything I have not to crumple into a little ball right there on the cracked cement driveway.
I force myself to walk toward the end of the driveway and onto the street to continue waving until he turns the corner and I can no longer see his taillights.
I drop my hand in defeat, and stand there on the road feeling hollowed out, regretting what I had to do.
I hang my head in shame and want so badly to undo everything I have set into place.
I knew that I would feel this way, so I didn’t allow myself a moment to wallow in my pity party of one.
Instead, I am going to crush that job interview this afternoon, which will allow me to attend school at the community college and have great benefits, so that my mom can stop working and focus on getting better.
So I will carry this burden for us and do what she has always done.
Take care of us. And maybe, if there is a higher being, they will have mercy on us and allow me to have my future with the man who drove away with my heart, and hope he finds his way back to me.
As I walk past his home, it stands there dark and looming.
A reminder of all I lost. As of tomorrow, someone else will be the new owner, and it’s something I can’t imagine having to witness every day.
I walk into my house feeling more alone than I ever have felt since moving here.
I think back to that day, when a boy first waved at me from his bedroom window, and I smiled back.