Chapter 24
Hayes
My mind is in rapid fire mode as I walk quickly toward the bus station on the other side of campus at the town center. A movie reel of memories cycles through my head on fast-forward.
Kevin and I laughing together at the party the night of the accident.
Holden, in critical condition, lying in the hospital bed.
My reluctant, but necessary decision to play football.
Going to Paris.
The first time I saw Kelsie.
The fear that consumed me the entire flight back from Paris.
Unexpectedly seeing Kelsie again.
I give my head a quick shake, trying to clear it as angry tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I wipe them away with the back of my hand and walk faster down the side streets toward town.
I inhale a deep, cleansing breath, but instead of feeling better, it makes me feel worse. I have a thousand excuses why I didn’t think Holden should go out alone on that road trip and he didn’t deserve the outcome of my call to our parents. I should have just asked him to wait until my spring break and offered to go on the trip with him.
It’s my fault my parents sent him to the psych facility. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with my text messages.
Fuck. I can’t get anything right.
I stare down the block as the busy bus station comes into view. It’s behind the train depot at the end of Main Street and there is a row of benches outside along the brick wall. Taking a seat to wait, I scan the area in search of something…searching for what, I don’t know.
I drop my bag to the ground in front of my feet and stare down at it, examining the lumpy, dark canvas material like it holds all the answers to this terrible situation.
The bag belongs to Holden. I grabbed his by mistake when I packed for school in a hurry after returning home from Paris. It had been a whirlwind of chaos before I had to get myself out here to CFU for the new semester.
Holden’s name is visible on the tag, written in his perfect handwriting. He always had nicer handwriting than I did. He was always better at everything. I take another deep breath. In and out.
I feel out of control. Everything feels out of control.
The only thing that grounded me is the woman I just walked away from. Again. The woman I still love and can’t stop loving, but now I’ve ruined the second chance I was given with her. I’ll never get another one. Kelsie will never forgive me.
“Fuck!” I spit out harshly, the unexpected noise surprising an older lady who suddenly appears in front of me on one of those motorized scooters. She makes a small noise of disapproval.
We catch eyes and I mutter my apology. “Sorry.”
I drop my head in my hands, threading my fingers through my hair that curtains around my face. I want to pull it all out, mired in this hopeless feeling.
“Are you all right, my dear?” the lady asks, tentatively approaching me.
I shake my head, not bothering to look up.
She directs her scooter next to me at the end of the bench. “You don’t look okay” she says blatantly with zero tact.
Thanks a lot, lady.
“Why don’t you tell an old lady your problems? I’ve got nothing left but time,” she offers kindly.
I slowly raise my head, swiveling my neck to face her. She must be in her eighties with white hair, a pair of wrinkled hands that grasp the handle bars, a bag with bread sticking out from the top in the front basket.
“I’m Ruth,” she says by way of introduction, taking one of those hands and holding it out to me.
I accept it, shaking it gently. “Hayes.”
“Hayes. That’s a nice name for such a troubled young man. Are you going somewhere? Are you a student at CFU?” she asks. “My grandson attends CFU.”
I nod. “In answer to your questions, yes.”
“Well, Hayes, tell me your story. I’m a very good listener and I’d love it if you’d share it with me,” she says, brooking no argument, as she folds her hands in her lap.
I don’t know why, but I tell her everything, and I mean everything. From the night of the party with Kevin and Holden, all the way up to today. We sit there for at least an hour and when I finish, I look into Ruth’s wise eyes. I expect to see pity, but instead she wears an expression I can’t quite read.
“I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” I finally state, breaking the silence between us, knowing she must think I’m awful. Because I certainly do.
“Oh, honey, you aren’t horrible. You’re human. And I think that girl, what’d you say her name is?” Ruth asks with a wave of her hand.
“Kelsie.”
“Yes, Kelsie. I think you’ll be making one of the biggest mistakes of your life, one you’ll regret forever, if you don’t go back and tell that girl what she means to you.”
I contemplate this for a moment, remembering the heartbroken expression on Kelsie’s face when I left.
“I know you may be right, but Holden needs me. I need to fix that first,” I explain adamantly. I’m not sure if it’s to get her on board with my plan or to reassure myself.
She shakes her head and then extends a shaky hand to grip my forearm. “I know it’s a tough love thing to do, but he’s not in the proper frame of mind right now. Only time will heal him. Then he will hopefully see you did it from the heart. But right now, he won’t be able to hear you over the pain he’s in.”
My chest squeezes with a sharp stab of regret knowing how much pain he must have endured and suffered these past three years.
Ruth continues. “The silver lining is that he’s still a young man and has plenty of time for road trips and other things once he’s better. Let him work on himself without you for a minute. He needs time to heal and deal with that grief on his own, just like you do.”
Wow, I’ve never thought of it that way. This woman is wise and perceptive.
“Thank you, Ruth. You’re very good at doling out advice. Were you a therapist at some point?” I ask, curious because she seems to have such wisdom about my situation.
Ruth laughs lightly, a small rasp to her voice, and clucks her tongue. “Oh, no…I’ve just lived a life well-versed in grief, love, and regret. Thankfully, with time, it heals. And your pain will too.”
“I hope so,” I add, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.
Leaning closer, she presses her bony shoulder against mine, her eyes staring at me intently. “But don’t wait, Hayes. If she’s the one, then tell her everything. Women need to know what’s in your head and in your heart. Don’t lose Kelsie because you are too afraid to talk about your pain.”
“What if it’s too late?” I whisper as I feel those tears welling again, hating myself for being so vulnerable in front of this woman I just met.
Ruth turns her torso toward me, extending her arms to hug me. I bury my face against her shoulder as she pats my back and lets me cry it out.
“Kelsie reached out to Keaton, right? There’s always hope, right?” she points out as she strokes my back.
I nod a little. She’s not wrong. Pulling back, I wipe my tears and look into her kind eyes.
“Thanks, Ruth,” I whisper.
She smiles and gives my cheek a little pat. “You’re welcome, Hayes.”
Then she motions to a house down the street. “I live over there in that blue one. You can stop by any time. And maybe you can come over with my grandson, Emmett Hudson.”
I manage a laugh. “Really? EJ’s one of my teammates.”
“Well, isn’t that a lucky coincidence.” She motions for me to get up. “Now go on! Go get that girl.”
I grab my bag and stand, tossing it over my shoulder before offering Ruth my hand to shake.
“Thanks again, Ruth. I’ll definitely stop by sometime.”
“Good, good. I want to know what happens. You take care, my dear.”
Giving her a wave goodbye, I rush back to the house, going from a quick walk to a jog in hopes with every step that I haven’t completely fucked things up with Kelsie and she’ll be willing to forgive me.
When I reach the door, I pause and swallow nervously before opening it. I see Eleanor in the living room with her headphones on and Parker is in the kitchen, but no Kelsie.
I head down the hallway to her bedroom where the door is shut, calling out her name. “Kelsie! Are you in there?”
Opening the door, I find an empty room and no Kelsie. I spin back around on my heels and out to the kitchen.
“Hey, Parker, have you seen Kelsie?”
She lifts her head and turns to look at me over her shoulder.
“Yeah, she said she was going to some ceremony at the Center for the Arts.” She shrugs, taking a bite of something from her plate. “Don’t know what it is, but she was all dressed up.”
“Thanks,” I say, waving a hand and taking off in a sprint out of the house again.
I try to come up with an answer why she’d be attending some ceremony at the arts building and then it dawns on me.
It’s the art contest I mentioned to her and pleaded with her to submit the painting she’d been working on of the two of us.
The last I knew, though, she said she wasn’t interested in sharing a piece of her heart with the public.
But maybe…just maybe she ended up doing just that.
I stop at the end of the walkway and shoot off a couple of texts, but don’t wait for the reply as I make my way to campus to find the arts building.
In the event she’s there, I can finally tell her everything. I’ll put it all out on the line—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the godawful truth—and if she’ll still have me and wants to be with me like I do her, then we can move on.
Because I’ve learned a lot about myself this semester.
I might wear the scars from the accident forever, but that’s all they’ll be…scars. Little reminders of who I am and the experiences I’ve had.
I’m not the boy who caused an accident. Or the boy who lost his friend. Or the man who can’t help his brother or the football player who never dreamed of playing the game.
I am a man who can forgive himself for things that were out of his control and move on to live a life that has meaning and purpose.
And right now, my purpose is to find the woman I love and tell her everything.
To tell her she is my everything.