57. Something to Remember Me By
fifty-seven
Something to Remember Me By
H e pulls away and brushes the hair away from my face. “That wasn’t the only time I wanted to kiss you.”
“Hmm?” I’m still in a trance.
He strokes my cheek. “I wanted to kiss you after your class, on the way home.” He kisses me.
“When we played paintball.” He moves to my cheek.
“In the car on that long-deserted road.” He slides his nose along my cheek and then starts on my neck.
“In the middle of the flour fight.” More kissing.
“After your spin class. On your couch whenever your parents were gone. When they were there too.” He finds my lips again. I force him to stop talking.
He pulls away and looks into my eyes. “Every time another guy touched you, it made me crazy. I’ve never wanted anything that Nate had until the night I saw him kiss you. Every time you were hurt, or scared, or sad, I wanted to take you in my arms, take away your pain. Protect you.”
He traces the scar under my chin, “And that night, when I found you in the barn, when I was almost too late, when I almost lost you—”
I don’t let him finish. I pull his lips to mine and kiss him, harder than before. More desperate. Trying to put a whole year’s worth of longing into one kiss. I put my hands on the back of his head and hold his face close to mine. I don’t want to let go.
When he pulls away, I’m out of breath. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heart pounding.
His phone buzzes. He clasps his hand over it and then reads the text. “Bryan,” he explains. “He wants to know if I need a ride back to base. I was planning to leave my car here. Your dad said he would store it for me while I was gone.” He slips his arms around my waist. “What do you say?”
I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “Tell him you have a ride.”
We sit outside the barracks in his car, holding hands and watching the rain fall for a long time. I’m torn. I want to go in with him. Stay with him and feel his arms around me as long as I can until he’s gone. Let him hold me while we sleep. He doesn’t ask.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “Are you going all the way back to school tonight?”
“That was the plan. I have an eight o'clock class tomorrow morning. My first test.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “When do you?” I swallow again, the lump is getting bigger. “When are you leaving?”
“We have to be on the transport by 0400.” He grips my hand. “Four a.m.” I look at the dashboard clock in his car, less than five hours before he leaves.
“I could stay with you until you go,” I breathe in. “Go home tomorrow morning. It’s okay if I miss my classes.”
He traces little circles on my hand. He looks into my eyes. “I won’t ask you to do that.”
I take in a breath. I'm not sure what to say.
He’s shaking his head. “I won’t ask you to do that.” He cups my face with his hands. “Not because I don’t want you with me tonight, but because you mean too much to me for me to ask that now. Does that make any sense?”
I put my hand on his chest so I can feel his heart beating. “Actually, it does.” I lean in to kiss him again. He pulls me across the gearshift and onto his lap.
We kiss for a long moment before he finally pulls away. He takes a ragged breath. "Maybe you’d better go now, before I change my mind. And before it gets any later.” He holds me against his chest. “Please drive carefully Jess, I can’t lose you.”
I shake my head at the irony. He’s the one who is going to war. That thought hits me hard. I hold onto him fiercely. Tears cloud my vision. “You,” I whisper in his ear. “Take care of yourself over there. I can’t lose you either.”
He pushes me to arm’s length and brushes his hand against my cheek. “No tears, Jess, please. I’ll be okay.”
He reaches over and opens the door. Reluctantly, I get out. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, like I can hold him here with me. He leans into my ear. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
I bury my head in his chest. “Never.”
He presses his lips to the top of my head. “I left something for you in the glove compartment of my car. In a white envelope.”
“What?”
"I wasn't sure when you'd be home again, or when you'd get it.
I'm glad it's now. Open it as soon as you get home.” He sets me down and kisses me, one last time, soft and gentle. Too short. Then he presses the locket back in my hand. “I know you don’t need this anymore, but I hope you still want it.”
I squeeze it tightly in my fist. “I do.”
“I love you, Jess,” he says.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
It takes all of my strength not to go after him as he walks away. Make him stay with me, or go in with him. At least hold him one more time.
I start his car. The familiar roar of the engine is both comforting and excruciating. I feel safe in Jacob’s car, like his arms are around me. The rain is pelting the roof harder and harder. I turn on the windshield wipers and put the car in reverse.
I manage to hold it together until I get home. Then I park by the barn, cross my hands over the steering wheel and let the tears come.
My heart is full. Bittersweet. Joy and pain all mingled together.
Finally having him. Losing him. All in one day.
Just a couple of hours.
I press the locket against my lips.
Then I remember what Jacob said. I reach over and open the glove compartment. Inside is a white envelope with my name on it.
I trace his handwriting and then open the envelope with trembling fingers. The first thing I find is money, the same bills I gave him the night of our fight. The twenty-dollar bill is here too. Below the note I wrote that said, “For breakfast.” He added, “I still intend to collect on this.”
The last thing in the envelope is a little silver ring. A key ring, with keys that are identical to the ones in the car ignition except for a little silver heart that says “Jess”.
The note attached is simple.
“Something to remember me by.”
THE END