Chapter 57
FIFTY-SEVEN
SUTTON
“ E veryone’s gone now.”
Hugging my legs tightly to my chest, I lift my tear-stained face to look up at Mr. Robinsky.
“The guests, I mean. They’ve all left.”
“Is there anything we can get you?” Lena’s hand is comforting, rubbing soothing, small circles along my back.
I don’t have the energy to respond. There’s a numbness permeating my soul, a bone-deep weariness that is holding me down.
It takes all my effort to continue staring out the window, but from my periphery I can see Mr. Robinsky throwing a concerned look my way; I can only imagine Lena’s response.
Eventually, Lena’s soft voice murmurs something, and I vaguely register the weight of a blanket being draped over my shoulders, her placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.
. . like when we were young and I needed comfort after being teased by another kid.
It takes a while for me to realize that she’s left.
They both have. I’m alone, again. Alone.
Again. But that’s all I’ve ever really been, isn’t it?
Even with Lena here, when my parents were still -
No.
I wasn’t always alone. I used to have Cal. . . until I didn’t anymore. Until I pushed him away. He would have been here though. If he’d known. . . he would be here.
But he’s not. You’re alone, and this time, it’s your own fault.
Everything’s different, but is it really?
A buzz pulls my attention back to the present, and I force my eyes to focus.
Big Daddy J: I hate that I’m not there with you right now.
Big Daddy J: You need to eat something.
Big Daddy J: I’ll be out on the first flight in the morning.
Big Daddy J: I’m here if you need to talk. I love you.
My eyes water, and I have to blink back more tears as I blow out a shaky breath.
I don’t understand how it’s even possible for one person to produce so many tears when I swear I had to have cried out every last ounce of water in my body already.
Jonah’s coming . I just need to focus on that.
Jonah’s coming back and it’s going to be okay.
Still, there’s an ache in my chest, a hole in my heart where something’s missing. A piece of me is missing. He should be here. No, you pushed him too far. It’s been too long. Of course he’s not here. Why would he bother? It’s not like you two are friends.
Were we ever, really?
I’m alone.
But I won’t be.
Jonah’s coming. I can make it a little while longer. I can do this. It will be okay .
If only I believed that.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Lifting my head from where it was resting on my knees, I see Cal standing several feet away, hands buried deep in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.
He came. Even through the numbness, my traitorous heart does a painful flip at the sight of him.
There are shadows under his eyes, deep bruises that show he’s probably slept about as well as I have in recent days, and his hair is wild, as if he couldn’t help but run his hands through it, a telltale sign of his anxiety.
Pulling my gaze away, I rest my chin on my knees once more, not bothering to respond.
What could I say, after the way I left? After everything.
. . Even after almost two years apart, my body is unwavering in its devotion; the years spent attuning itself to whatever frequency this man is on have apparently remained dormant, but not forgotten.
I could feel him near before I ever heard him coming.
Damn it. I thought I had moved past this. Past him.
To his credit, he doesn’t try to say anything as he approaches.
Doesn’t demand answers that I can’t give about why I essentially ghosted him and blew off our friendship like it meant nothing at all, like he meant nothing, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Instead, I feel the comforting weight of him, his smell surrounding me as he drapes his jacket around my shoulders, enveloping me in his warmth.
Plopping down next to me, legs outstretched, he just sits with me, soaking in the night.
Whether it was minutes or hours, time eventually passes and the clouds shift, allowing me to see a hint of the starry sky and the luminous moon.
I lay back, uncaring that the grass is still damp from an earlier rain, or that my clothes may end up covered in mud.
Instead, I stare up at the dark sky, the sporadic starlight fighting to break through the clouds as they continue to slowly drift like the memories desperate to break through the all-consuming numbness that has overtaken me.
There’s a soft squelch of earth as he settles beside me, and for a moment, for just one single moment, I’m taken back to a different time.
Another night lying under the same starry sky.
An annual “team bonding” camping trip, the team, Cal, my Dad .
. . with his arm wrapped around me as we sat by the fire, showing Cal and I the various constellations.
“They’re gone . What am I going to do without them, Cal?” My voice is nothing more than a broken whisper. It’s probably the first thing I’ve said in days. . .
Cal doesn’t respond, of course. What could he possibly say that would make any of this better? But he’s here.
A tear breaks free, trailing out the corner of my eye, weaving a salty path into my hair.
And just like the tears that I tried desperately to keep at bay, once the floodgates are opened, there’s just no stopping the memories that wash over me in earth-shattering waves; just like there’s no stopping the sob that breaks free.
Without hesitation, Cal pulls me into his chest, squeezing me tightly, as if he could hold together all the broken pieces of me as they splinter and fall, lying shattered on the ground.
I cry for my parents, for all the pain I caused, for pushing them away after I was admitted for ED treatment; I cry for the man holding me, for the years of memories that were thrown away in one heated moment, the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘might-have-beens.’ I cry until I can’t cry anymore, until the crickets in the meadow drown out the sounds of my shaky breaths, my heavy eyelids closing as I’m soothed by the soft melody of his steady heartbeat.