Chapter 32 Stella
Stella
January
The new semester starts the week after New Year’s. I move into a new apartment with Nora as my roommate, finally getting away from Summer Hayden.
Colt is coming back from the mental health facility today, just in time for classes to start on Monday.
I’m at his apartment with Beau, waiting for him to come home. Booker and Drew wanted to be here, too, but we didn’t want to make him feel overwhelmed.
When he walks in the door, he looks so much better that I feel tears prick my eyes, but I hold them back.
His arms wrap around Beau in a crushing embrace as he apologizes to him over and over again. “I didn’t mean to scare you, B.”
Their reunion is so emotional, I retreat to Colt’s room in order to give them some privacy.
Eventually, Colt walks in, dropping his duffel bag on the floor.
I take in the sight of him. He looks like his old self again. He’s wearing the same black sweatshirt I saw him in at the bar the day of our first kiss. He looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“Hi,” I say, growing nervous.
“Hey,” he returns, softly.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I tell him.
“Me, too. I missed you.” He takes a step toward me, and then I rush to him, burying my face in his chest.
“I missed you, too.”
His arms come around me, holding me to him, pressing his face into my hair.
“I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry, Stella.”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize.”
“No, just…let me get this out. Please.” He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes, studying my face.
“I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I didn’t mention how bad things were getting in my head.
I’m sorry I didn’t listen when the doctor wanted to put me back on my medication after the accident.
It would’ve prevented all of this if I had.
But most of all, I’m sorry that I ever thought you’d be better off if I were dead.
” He chokes on the words as they come out.
“I talked to my old therapist, who had my notes from two years ago. He let me read some of them, and one of the things I remembered while reading through them was that I said I would never put the people I love through the same pain I went through.
“I’d lost so many people: My mom, my grandparents, my dad, Gracie. I saw how it affected the people who were left behind—myself included—and while I may have needed help getting better along the way, I promised myself I would never cause my loved ones that kind of pain.”
“That’s why you couldn’t make yourself do it,” I whisper.
He nods. “Even before I remembered, I knew I shouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. That’s why I was so confused by the scars. I thought I had turned into a completely different person after my father died, and I was having trouble trying to figure out who I was supposed to be.
“But with you, I knew. You showed me glimpses of who I was, even when I couldn’t remember. You may call me a protector, but Stella, you’ve been protecting me from myself this entire time, and you didn’t even know it. Every time dark thoughts started to creep in, you were there to pull me back out.”
His words make the tears I was holding at bay spill over. He reaches up and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping them away.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I remembered that I love you, and it’s even more true now. I was in love with you before that stupid game took my memories, and I was too afraid to say it. But I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll spend every day, for the rest of my life, telling you I love you.”
He pulls me in, kissing away my tears, and then kissing me so incredibly gently on the mouth, as if he was worried his touch would break me.
“I love you,” I say into his mouth, kissing him harder, running my hands up around the back of his neck.
He lifts me, wrapping my legs around his torso and holding me against his strong body, understanding my need to be close to him.
“I love you,” I repeat one last time. “Never try to leave me again.”
His smile heals all the cracks that had formed in my heart over the last month. His smile, free of the burden he’s been carrying, fights off all the worry and sadness I had been carrying for him.
He’s back. My Colt is back, for real this time.
Walking over to the bed, he lays me down, tugging my shirt off, and then my pants.
I return the favor, staring at his glorious body in nothing but his boxers.
We don’t rush. He kisses me like I’m a luxury he needs to savor.
Eventually, when he pushes himself into me, filling me, we both sense it’s different this time. We aren’t fucking.
This is love.
Colt asks me to come with him while he gives his final Lit presentation, saying it feels wrong to do it without me there.
The professor is waiting for us in the lecture hall.
“Mr. Crosby, I’m so glad your recovery has gone well. I was sorry to hear about your accident.”
“Thank you, Dr. Carter,” Colt replies politely. “Did you get the presentation file I emailed you?”
“Yes, I did. I was surprised when you asked me if you could turn in a separate presentation from the one Ms. Anderson submitted for you both,” Dr. Carter answers, pulling up Colt’s new presentation on the screen at the front of the room.
My brows knit in confusion. A new presentation? I have no idea what’s going on or what they’re talking about.
I turned in the essay report Colt and I worked on for all those months. I also gave the presentation we had prepared. Dr. Carter had said that all Colt would have to do is re-present it for her, and he would get credit. Why would he make a new presentation?
The words that pull up on the screen cause my breath to hitch in shock. Colt has not only made an entirely new presentation, but he’s chosen two new stories to present on.
The title of his presentation reads “A Comparison of Romeo and Juliet and Annabel Lee: Which is the true tragedy?”
Colt begins his introduction, using a voice I’ve rarely heard from him. His intelligence is on full display, sounding professional and sophisticated.
The screen changes; the presentation continues into a summary and analysis of each story. I listen with rapt attention as my boyfriend explains the minutiae of these two literary masterpieces, wondering when he’s going to make his point.
“Romeo and Juliet is only labeled a tragedy because of the ending. At it’s core, the story itself is one of love, acceptance, freedom, and passion.
“Annabel Lee is a tragedy from the beginning; not because she passed away, but because of the mental state of the narrator.
Many literary scholars believe that the narrator exaggerated his relationship with Annabel Lee in the poem, because how could they have possibly been so in love at such a young age?
“I like to believe their love was not exaggerated in the slightest. The true tragedy of this story is not that she died, but that they were separated, causing the narrator’s psyche to fracture to the point that no one believed what they had was real.
“Romeo and Juliet were also young, yet no one doubts their love for one another was real. Their story is known boldly as the greatest love story in history.
“While both of these pieces have been labeled as tragic, I implore you to look a little bit further into the emotions of these characters to find the true devastation. Romeo and Juliet will forever be known as a love story for the ages while Annabel Lee will always be seen as the ramblings of a mentally ill man on the verge of suicide. But…just because he may not have been in his right mind does not mean that their love was not just as strong, just as fierce. The narrator’s mental state does not make their love any less real.
“Society is quick to judge—quick to label—mental illness and write it off as negligible. This is the true tragedy of Annabel Lee: that their love story will never be taken as seriously as the others.”
Colt concludes his presentation, earning a round of applause from Dr. Carter.
“Mr. Crosby, that was magnificent. I’ll go ahead and tell you that you passed with flying colors, and I’ll get your final grade back to you within the week. I must say, young man, I am very impressed that you were able to put together such a thought-provoking presentation while injured!”
“Thank you, ma’am. I had a lot of spare time on my hands while on bed rest,” Colt replied, blushing slightly at her praise. He may be used to getting attention, but it’s rarely for his intelligence.
“It’s a shame you’re set on playing hockey. You would be a wonderful scholar, dear.” Dr. Carter pats him on the shoulder and walks away toward her office door.
Alone in the lecture hall, Colt looks at me sitting in the front row, waiting for me to voice my thoughts.
“Colt…that was incredible,” I say softly, standing up and making my way toward him. “When did you make this?” I ask.
“Last week, when I was gone,” he says. “I had a memory of you snooping around my room that first day you came over to work on the project. I cracked the door and watched you look at the books on my shelves. You were holding the Edgar Allen Poe book.”
“I didn’t know you were watching me,” I whisper. “I thought I had done a good job of being inconspicuous.”
He laughs. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you were the opposite of inconspicuous. But I didn’t mind. I liked that you were interested in my things. And, truthfully, I snooped around your bookshelf when I was using your phone charger that day, so we’re even.”
I smile and roll my eyes. “So, what made you create a whole new presentation? Just because you saw me reading Poe for a second?”
“No. Part of me felt guilty about giving a presentation that you’d already given. Like I wasn’t doing my fair share.”
“Colt, you practically created that entire first presentation, as well,” I argue, finding his reasoning both charming and exasperating.
“Yeah, but I don’t remember making it, so it doesn’t count,” he retorts, and I scoff out another laugh.
“Besides, I needed something to do while I was in there, and thinking about you helped. I thought…I don’t know…
that maybe this presentation could help explain everything that was going on in my head a little bit better.
” He takes both my hands in his and fixes me with a serious expression.
“Just because I wasn’t okay doesn’t mean I loved you any less.
I know I scared you, and you have every right to be mad at me for it.
But even with all the clouds fogging up my head, you were the light shining through.
“The parallels between us and a story about dead people may not be exactly there, but I needed you to know that I loved you even when it seemed like I had…forgotten.”
I reach up and push his hair away from his forehead. “I love you. I know it wasn’t really you. We talked about that when you got back. You didn’t need to explain anymore.”
“Maybe I just needed to do it for myself,” he says, kissing my forehead.