23 Kierra
23
Kierra
Gabriel: Hey. Can we meet up to talk?
The moment Gabriel’s name appeared on my phone screen, I sat up straighter in my chair at the dining room table. I hadn’t heard from him in two weeks, since I’d told him everything about the accident. I didn’t think he’d reach out again, if I being honest.
I couldn’t blame him if he kept his distance.
Kierra: Of course. When and where?
Gabriel: Eight tonight at my place.
Kierra: See you soon.
***
I was nervous the whole time I drove over to his house, and when I showed up, he asked me if I wanted to sketch with him on the back patio. I agreed, and we walked around to where he had his sketchbooks set up.
We didn’t talk for a while. I wanted to give him the opportunity to speak when he was ready. Yet I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t holding my breath the whole time as I waited.
“What would’ve happened if you hadn’t left?” Gabriel asked after a while.
“What do you mean?”
“After it happened with Elijah…after the accident. After my mom pushed you away and I struggled to find myself. What do you think would’ve happened if you had stayed?”
My chest ached from the thought. I’d played that what-if game repeatedly for many, many years. I’d crafted images in my mind of what life could’ve looked like for us both. I visualized different scenarios. Ones where we baked fresh bread on Sunday mornings, and he attended my fashion shows on Friday nights. Ones where we laughed at stupid jokes over coffee and lay on the couch watching bad films. Ones where our kisses never stopped. Ones where forgiveness was possible. Ones where guilt no longer lived.
“We would’ve been happy,” I whispered. “Maybe not at first, but we would’ve found a way to be happy again.”
“I would’ve loved you through the dark days.”
I released a nervous chuckle because I knew that was true. Maybe that was why I left. I didn’t think I deserved the kind of love Gabriel would’ve given me. “I know,” I nodded. “You would’ve.”
“And you would’ve loved me through harsh nights.”
“Fully.”
He looked down at his hands sitting in his lap. He fiddled with his nails and shrugged. “I’m glad that didn’t happen.”
His words threw me off slightly and stung my heart. “You are?”
“I mean, sure. We would’ve had more years to love each other, we would’ve had more memories, but I’m glad you didn’t come back. I think we needed to be apart to really appreciate this now. Besides…you wouldn’t have Ava if we’d stayed together back then. What a crime that would’ve been.”
“She saved me,” I confessed. “I don’t think I would’ve made it through life without you if it wasn’t for her.”
“She was your foundation.”
I raised an eyebrow, wanting him to expand on that thought.
His smile slipped out. “The solid ground that you needed to begin again. Before her, things probably felt rocky and unstable. Ava’s your solid ground. She’s not your house; she’s your home.”
“ Home ,” I softly sang. “Yes. She’s home to me.” I shook my head, still feeling guilty. “I just feel as if it’s so unfair to you, though. You’ve missed out on so much. On your memories, on Elijah. And I still feel so awful, Gabriel, for not telling you.”
“Kierra,” he whispered, “stop.”
“I can’t. I am so sorry for everything I’ve done, Gabriel. I am so sorry for—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “And I forgive you.”
I looked up at him, shaking my head. “How can you forgive me for that, though?”
“Because I’m almost certain you’ve spent the last decade or two beating yourself up over the accident. You don’t have to carry that anymore, Kierra. I forgive you. Now it’s up to you to forgive yourself.”
I knew that would take time, and it would be hard for me to do so. Self-forgiveness was one of the hardest things to do. I’d watched my clients deal with the heaviness of guilt, and I worked endlessly to help them break through their past mistakes. Yet, as with most things in life, that was easier said than done.
“I’ll work at it,” I swore. “At forgiving myself.”
“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Can you do something for me, though?”
“What’s that?”
“Tell me about Elijah. Any and every little detail about him.”
I tilted my head toward him and smiled shyly. “Well, he loved superheroes. He hated cats. He thought Legos were the greatest invention ever. He always wanted a dog. He loved swimming and was a better swimmer than both of us combined. He refused to eat anything green but liked to eat onions like candy.”
“Weirdo,” Gabriel laughed.
“Total weirdo,” I agreed with a smile. “Our favorite weirdo. I have notebooks of letters I’d write to him every week since he passed.”
“Do you still write the letters?”
“Yes. No matter what.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Because I miss him,” I confessed with a slight nod. “Writing him letters felt like a way to still be connected to him. It’s silly, I know.”
“It’s not silly. It’s beautiful.”
I tugged on the edge of my long-sleeved shirt and shrugged. “In the early stages, I wrote down every single detail about who he’d been. I wanted to remember everything about him. I wanted a time capsule of sorts to hold on to the memory of him forever. If you’d like, you can read them.”
“You’d let me?”
“I’d let you do anything that made life easier for you.”
“I’ll take you up on that soon.” He turned toward me and raised an eyebrow. “Did I used to call you Penguin?”
I smiled. “Yes. Since we were kids. We got into a fight and you said I waddled like a penguin. It sort of stuck.”
“That’s why it keeps popping up in my head.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Well…” He took a deep inhale. “Thanks, Penguin.”
My heart wanted to cry at hearing the nickname. I wanted to fall apart in his arms and hold him for all the days I hadn’t gotten to hold him before.
Instead I simply said, “You’re welcome.”
“Friends again?” he asked.
I sighed.
I nodded.
“Friends again,” I agreed.
Even though, truthfully, all I wanted was more .