Chapter 31 #2
It’s so damn unfair. You’d think I’d at least look decent in a forever sleep like in Sleeping Beauty or some other fairy-tale shit. But nope, I look more like someone you’d want to shut the door on and forget. And it seems like my family did just that.
Left me to my sorry state.
If they had been around more in the past seven years, maybe I would’ve caught a glimpse of myself and had some inkling of what was happening to me. But no, they weren’t there. Not when I was around, and I feel like I was around a lot.
Or at least, I think I was. Wasn’t I?
“You okay?” Sloan’s voice breaks into my thoughts, her concern evident.
No, no, I’m not okay.
How can I be? But what can I say?
“I’m fine,” I lie because that’s what you do when you’re not fine at all. I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace.
I look out at the ocean, its vastness a mirror to the emptiness I feel inside while the sun dips lower on the horizon.
I’m stuck in this limbo, not dead, but not really living either.
A part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, to crack a joke or make a sarcastic comment.
But the laughter dies in my throat. This isn’t just about me.
It’s about my family, about Sloan, and about everything we’ve lost and might never get back.
What a shit show.
“And how do you really feel?” Sloan asks again, her hand laying over mine on the rocks we’re sitting on, tingles spreading in its wake.
I could feel her touch me while she did it. And even though it should make me happy, it made the longing for her even worse.
I turn to Sloan, trying to find words that don’t come.
How do I tell her how much this has fucked me up?
The frustration, the helplessness, the sheer incredulity of finding your life has slipped through your fingers like sand? If I were dead, at least I would know my life ended. My time did come. Now, it feels like I just missed out on the years I had.
It’s a theft of time, of experiences, of life. Seven years gone, just like that.
Poof.
The wind picks up, ruffling Sloan’s and Hunter’s hair, reminding me of how different I am. I run a hand through mine, almost expecting it to fall in place as it used to, but it doesn’t.
Nothing does anymore.
The irony isn’t lost on me—the loudest of the bunch, always with a quick comeback, now rendered silent by my own bizarre reality. It’s like a cruel joke, and I’m the punchline.
But there’s also a flicker of something else—determination, maybe? A resolve not to let this be the end of my story. I look at Sloan, her eyes full of a pain that mirrors my own, and I feel a surge of something like hope.
Maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out.
Maybe there’s a way.
But I just shake my head at her, not in the mood or the ability to talk right now.
I feel too much.
She nods as if understanding, and we all look back out at the ocean as the sunset paints the sky with hues of gold and orange.
I’m lost in the beauty of the moment, yet my heart aches with a pang of longing.
This used to be my drug, chasing the light and the stars, capturing every subtle change of color with my camera.
It’s a beautiful sunset, and I know the sky will burn in a few minutes.
Watching how nature changes, ensnaring every little color change just to take pictures that make people gasp and feel, being the only one to witness such beauty but freezing it in time for others to admire, I miss that.
I’d run over to the beach when I saw the sky turning pretty to set up my tripod and camera, and I would forget everything else for the next few minutes because it’s a fleeting feeling to witness a sunset like this.
It’s magic that’s only there for a short time, when the clouds are hit just right by the sinking sun.
You have to catch the perfect moment and, if you’re lucky, the perfect subject—a foreground that complements the magic in the sky. It’s a blend of luck, skill, and passion.
I fucking loved it.
“I still see you in every sunset, in every starry night,” Hunter whispers, and my head turns to him, but his gaze is on the horizon.
“Every time the sky is painted in pretty colors, I hear your laughter and feel your joy. I feel a surge of excitement for you. And when I’m home and see the sky burning through the window, I glance at the front door, expecting you to rush past me with your gear, yelling that you need to catch it.
” He breathes out a small laugh, but there are tears in his eyes.
“It feels like the sky is torturing me,” he continues, a tear escaping his eyelid and running down his cheek while his voice almost breaks.
“When it rains, I’m back in those waves, fighting for breath.
When the sun shines, it’s Jessie smiling down on me.
And when it’s a beautiful sunset or a starry night, I see you.
The only reprieve is the cloudy, overcast days.
But even then, I find myself missing the sun and the colors, missing you guys. ”
Sloan’s arm wraps around Hunter, offering comfort, while her other hand remains gently over mine.
I felt like crying before, but now I feel wrecked.
“Hunt,” I whisper, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. The pain of seeing him like this and knowing what he’s been through without me, is almost too much to bear.
“I talk to you so much when I’m around your stuff, when I see something that reminds me of you. When I hear a joke and know you would have told it better.” His voice cracks with emotion, each word a testament to the bond we shared.
“I know, and I always answer you, Hunt,” I reply softly, wishing more than anything that he could hear me. That he could know I never really left him.
Sloan intertwines her fingers with Hunter’s and turns her other hand for me, letting me set my hand in hers. It’s as if she heard my thoughts, felt my longing because she starts speaking what I can’t say aloud. “He answers you, Hunter. You just can’t hear it.”
Hunter turns to look where I sit, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though he can see me. “I know this all is so messed up, and I should have been there more. I should have never lost hope for you. I’m so sorry. I’m a coward. I just couldn’t keep hurting myself with it.”
I nod quickly, even though I know he can’t see it.
“He knows, Hunter. He doesn’t hold it against you,” Sloan reassures him.
“It hurts so much because I lost my best friend that day, and two years later, I lost the friend who stepped in for you, who kept me afloat. I-I was too weak to handle it all on my own, even though I should have come and been there for you.”
I want to tell him that he was there, that he was the reason I didn’t go insane from being all alone for so long because he still acknowledged me, thought about me, talked with me, and still missed me. But I can’t seem to speak around the lump in my throat.
Sloan’s voice is gentle, “You were there. He was with you every day. He told me about how he always hung around you guys, watching over Lio, listening to your conversations, hanging out with you during movie nights.”
I can’t help but chuckle despite the ache in my heart. “I did. And just so you know, Nash’s movie choices are getting progressively worse.” I shake my head in mock exasperation.
“Although he’s not too thrilled with Nash’s movie selections,” Sloan adds with a light snicker, trying to bring a bit of levity to the moment.
“Right? Oh my God…” Hunter manages to laugh through his tears. “You have no idea, Say. That guy is so into chick flicks now. I’ve got no one to watch action movies with anymore.”
Hearing him like this, responding to my thoughts as if I’m right there in the conversation, it’s a bittersweet feeling. For a moment, it’s as if the barrier between us thins, allowing us to connect.
She allows us to connect.
The longing in my heart is overwhelming, a deep-seated yearning that’s been gnawing at me for seven long years. Tears stream down my cheeks, the emotion too intense to contain. “You should have taught him better,” I jest, half-jokingly, half-seriously, my voice watery.
“He says it’s your fault. You should have taught him better.” Sloan smiles sadly at me.
Hunter, wiping away his tears, manages a wry smile. “Bro, I was too busy trying to keep him from getting a new STD every week.” His voice is a mix of humor and exasperation, a throwback to the times we used to rib each other mercilessly.
I can’t help but let out a loud, unexpected laugh. Hunter looks at Sloan again, who’s trying to suppress her laughter, her nose scrunched up adorably. “That was too much information.”
“Sorry,” Hunter apologizes, but his eyes are dancing with mirth.
“No, I’m sorry, we should have done this much sooner. I should have let you talk to each other way sooner. I’m so sorry, I was… scared. But I’m more than happy to be your voice now, Saylor.”
I know what it costs her, where she came from, what this means.
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
With the sound of the waves in the background and the fading light of the sunset, it feels like I’m part of Hunter’s world again.
I have wished for this for seven years.
And she gave it back to me.