32. Adaline
The ocean breeze has always seemed to calm me. No matter what. Whether it was the four hour long coastal noises I”d play into my room to help me fall asleep at night, or the days I”d spend listening to the waves as they crashed over my bare legs.
It was probably why Icraved to be there so much as a child… the calmness to counterbalance my life, which was chaos.
It was one of the only things I was thankful for, about where my sister lived now—the drive along the PCH highway. It holds so many good memories, this coast. The millions and millions of tiny grains ofsand are like those memories; they’re the first thing you see when you get here.
Surprisingly, whenever my mind wanders past this beach, the waves, it doesn’tautomatically go to the bad things that occurred here. Instead, I think about the day we came here as a family for the first time, it was the day Goldie took her first real steps. It was one of the few times I’d looked at my parents with any real joy. I enjoyed being in their company. Enjoyed being a family.
I think about the first time me and Nate were allowed here on our own, the day we, tried,to go surfing. It was like there was a chunk of sunlight that the sun had chipped off itself to spare us all day, letting us exist in eternal sunshine. Like it knew we needed it.
I let my eyes casually take in the sand as I drive past, the salt air whipping my hair behindme, sunshine coating my face.
But, like most beaches, the sand isn’t the only thing that sits here. Soon enough, as I turnthe bend of the highway, that’s neatly carved into the cliff face, I spy the rocks. Boulders, actually, that had fallen here years before this lifetime it seemed, from how you could tell their bodies went far below the surface. Like an iceberg.
The sunlight casting over my mind becomes clouded when I spot them, lurking along thebeach like the bad memories that existed here too. There are obviously not as many as the good ones, but you can’t look at the sand and not see the rocks.
But the number of rocks seemed to be growing these days, thanks to the landslides thathad rattled my world, and that was what I hated. Big ugly things that took away from the natural beauty of the beach. But what could I do? It wasn’t like I could move them, destroy them. They were there for the rest of time.
Seven years wasted.
Seven years of hating me for no reason.
Seven years of being made to feel like I was the villain.
My foot dropped down on the accelerator, trying to quicken the journey down the coast,until rows and rows of beach houses blocked the view, making me forget it was there.
It’s been three days since the day everything happened. Literally, everything.
I hadn’t known so much drama and sadness and revelations and kisses could happen inthe space of a few hours, but the universe always seemed to be finding ways to surprise me these days.
I hadn’t spoken to anyone, not since I left that hotel room. I wasn’t going to count therun-in with Amber I had in the lobby as I left as a conversation. She called my name, I looked back, her eyes ran all over my teary face and then I ran out of the doors, dodged the crowd of paparazzi that lingered outside the hotel, and drove.
All night.
I drove until I felt my eyes getting heavy and realised that crashing the car wasn’t a suresolution to fixing anything, so I went back to the hotel, hoping that the camera mafia had left. They had, luckily, and I slipped past the hotel doors and ran straight to my room.
I didn’t sleep that night, or the other two nights that had just passed, if that already wasn’tobvious from the blue-ish half circles that had formed under my eyes. I hadn’t left the room either, living off over-priced room service and reading on the balcony. Vitamin D exposure and a few uninterrupted days of reading smut were the least I deserved, so I didn’t feel guilty in the slightest. But I needed to get out today.
And there was only one person I wanted to see.
Neededto see.
The only part of unplugging myself from the world that I felt a slither of guilt towardswas not checking in on Goldie after everything erupted at dinner. She was a Moore, though, having time to herself to straighten out the mental timeline and make sense of everything was probably what she needed. What I’d needed, too.
I just hoped that things hadn’t been silent in that house since I left. I hoped there’d beprogress. I hoped they’d listened. But… I couldn’t be sure.I couldn”t be certain that people could just change overnight.
I shook the thoughts out of my head as I approached the gates and guard that blocked offthe street where they lived, passing her a friendly smile and being signalled right on in. The gravel on the driveway popped under my tyres as I pulled into the house, my eyes taking in the mansion where so much had happened, and I’d only spent a few hours here.
Again, I shook the thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t here to dwell on what hadhappened… I was here to see what the future held, what the plan was.
I straightened the fabric of the white skirt that I’d found at the bottom of my luggage thismorning, my windswept hair doing whatever it wanted as it flowed down my back, as I approached the door, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the huge silver keypad that was bolted to the front door.
My finger doesn’t hesitate before it presses the buzzer, and like he knew I was out herealready, the door swings open to reveal my dad. The rush of air as the door opens knocks the breath out of me, and my head cranes up to meet his eyes.
Tired. I’d never seen him look so tired. So rugged, unkept. I don’t think I’ve ever seenthis man in anything other than a shirt and tie, so seeing him in plaid pyjama bottoms and a sweatshirt was… unnerving.
“Adaline,” His voice was as rough as he looked, like the gravel I’d just driven over. Hestared at me for a second or two, before dropping his eyes to the floor, almost with shame coating them, before he muttered to the tiles, “Come in.”
He stepped aside so I could, the only sound being the tap of my high tops on the tiles.It was so quiet. Deadly so. I suppose that for a house this size and the lack of people whodwelled in it, it should feel this empty. But still, something felt off. Like whatever energy had existed here got swept out of the door the night I left.
I spun around to face him again as he closed the door, his hands fidgeting and nervesseeming to overcome him. He truly did look ashamed, and considering that before me was one of the most confident men I knew, I wasn’t sure how to feel about the paler-than-pale complexion that had possessed him, and the way he looked like he hadn’t slept since that night.
“Is everything okay?” I had to ask. I was going to eventually, anyway.
His nod was solemn. “I suppose,” he brought his eyes to me. “The past few days havebeen… enlightening. For all of us.”
He could say that again.
And, like he knew why I was here, his chin tilted towards the stairs. “She’s in her room.”
But before I could let my feet take me away, his voice stopped me. “Before you go up,” I turned back to him. “I want to talk to you.” I think he saw the hesitation on my face, his head tilting and muttering, “Please, Addy.”
My dad had never, ever, called me Addy. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
But I nodded, slowly. “Okay.” And then his arms stretched out to the side, guiding metowards the sun terrace.
The sun seemed harsher out here, if that was possible. More direct, less whimsical. Icouldn’t explain it, and perhaps I was just trying to think of things to distract me from whatever my dad wanted to talk to me about.
I had to get this over with though, but as I turned around to face the house, and looked back atthe door I’d just come from, he wasn’t there.
“Dad? I called, pulling my brows together. No sign of him. I tried again. “Dad—”
Suddenly he was there in the doorway, a box of something in his hands, and my mom,hovering behind his right shoulder.
They both emerged from the house and out into the sunlight, the breeze knocking mymom’s hair, the same golden shade as Goldie’s, over her shoulders, as her arms wrapped around her waist, covered in a white linen jumpsuit.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, like a mouse trying to tame a cat that was sure it was about todevour it.
“Hi,” I whispered back, my focus solely on my dad and whatever he was carrying.“What’s that?” I had to ask, before the suspense and curiosity devoured me.
He placed whatever it was on the glass table where we’d eaten and argued three nightsbefore, a sigh slipping from his stubbly mouth, my mom stopping by his side.
He reached my eyes as he finally said, “After we spoke with Goldie the other night, afterthings had calmed down, your mom and I went through some of the stuff in the attic, stuff we haven’t seen since… well, forever.” He looked down toward the box, a hint of a smile creeping up his mouth, before he turned his head to my mom, a matching smile, equally sorry as it was pure, resting on her face, too.
“And anyway,” Their eyes were back on me. “We came across a box of some of your oldthings, and we found… the original copies of some of your books.”
My mouth popped open, drying instantly. Then my stomach dropped, right to the depthsof somewhere, my arms tingling and my spine straightening, but not with fear, with something else entirely. A hopeful fear, if something like that even existed.
“Oh,” was all that fell out of my mouth.
I hadn’t seen the originals in years. All I took with me the day I left were copies,photocopies that lacked all my spelling mistakes and annotations and drafts of stories I’d conjured out of frustration and hope.
When I came back that day, the day I was supposed to meet… you know… I wanted tofind the originals and take them home with me. But I couldn’t see past my tears to say a proper hello to Goldie, let alone go exploring in the attic for my books.
I peered into the box on the table, and now that I’d angled my head, the black scribbles on theside clearly read ‘Adaline’s Things’. I saw the curled corners of stapled-together manuscripts, dust coating them, imperfections from being forgotten for years clearly showing.
I think I gasped when I saw the title of the book on the top of the pile, trying to rememberthe last time I’d taken the time to sit and read it.
I stepped closer, reaching for it. I was gentle, as my hands fell onto the ageing paper, likeit would crumble in my hands if I gripped it with the urge I had, like it would disappear for another decade if I wasn’t careful. But it was in my hands before I knew it, the breeze from the waves crashing not too far away rustling the papers. It only made my hands grip the precious thing tighter.
Suddenly I was thirteen years old again, holding my very first completed story that Ithought could be worth something. Pride and longing swelled in my heart, like if I clung to these pages tighter, I could somehow hug that girl existing in the past; a sign to her that things would be okay.
“You found them,” I said without realising, not taking my eyes off the papers.
“We spent all weekend reading them.” My dad blurted out, and it took a while for me toregister what he’d said.
They’d read them. My parents. They’d read the stories that I wrote to help deal with the effects of their pushing and control over my life. They’d read them.
“What?” I asked, my head aching as it met my dad’s eyes, then falling to my mom.
She let out a little laugh. “We didn’t leave the attic for about three hours, we just satthere, reading.”
I tried to picture it: my mom in her finery, sitting on the attic floor, surrounded by boxesand memories, with a copy of my book in her hands. Then my dad, probably perched on a box, turning over the pages of some battle scene, or another scene that was never meant for his eyes. Not when his daughter had written it.
“You did?” I asked, my eyes diving between the two of them.
I got a nod from both of them, but it was my dad who spoke. “Yes… and they are just…Adaline, they are amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the words,” The crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. My mom seemed to hear it too, reaching a hand up and squeezing his forearm. “And then I turned to the front page and read your name again. My daughter’s name. And…” I don’t think I’d even seen my dad cry, but I felt like I was about to, as his eyes grew glassy. “I’ve never felt like more of a failure in that moment, that I—”
“We…” My mom interrupted.
My dad nodded at her. “Right… that we didn’t see what you were capable of. The talentyou had when you weren’t reading someone else’s words.”
My mom took a step forward. “And you are a wonderful actress, Adaline, you really are.But this?” She stepped out of my dad’s shadow, her steps taking her to me, as she grabbed my hands and smiled the most motherly smile I’d seen in a while. “It’s the talent the world should know you for. They should know you for your words, not the people you pretend to be.”
I stared into my mother’s eyes, watching the fire dance behind her irises, the same way itdanced in mine, and Goldie’s. Then I looked over at my dad, the man who I’d once upon a time been too frightened to speak up to, and he smiled at me.
Goldie had that smile.
I’d always wondered whether that was why I hadn’t been as afraid to talk to my mom.Still nervous, but not scared. I used to think that was because I was like her, the fire that lived behind our eyes, our personalities, but more our ability to hide behind the powerful ones.
That would explain why my dad and I clashed. Two halves of the same deadly flame.
But right now, as he smiled down at me, I’d never felt like his daughter more. I”d never felt our flames collide so softly. Which was sad,but… I didn’t want to cling to the sadness of us anymore—the warped family portrait we would have made. I wanted to see the good, what we could be.
I looked between them and let a laugh slip past my lips. “A night reading and now youboth sound like you were written by Shakespeare.” We all chuckled at that, the lightheartedness mingling with the salt in the air, the charm that the bright sun now adopted.
“I’d rather be written by you, I think.” My mom said as she squeezed my hands, and Icouldn’t explain the way my heart sighed. I couldn’t find the words to explain how it felt like it had been painted the shade of pink that I was always drawn to, the pastel kind, dotted with sparkles and wrapped in rose-covered vines.
It was my dad whose voice broke the silence. “Anyway, we’ll let you go see Goldie, shecan explain everything.”
My mom nodded. “Yeah, go up and see her.” Her smile was more than promising. As wasdad’s.
“Okay.” I smiled, so deeply.
I went to walk away before my dad reached for me. “Addy?” I lifted my eyes to him.“We are sorry. For everything.” He said, like he meant it, and not like a man with another agenda.
I nodded at him. “Thank you,” I looked at my mom. “Both of you. Thank you forlistening.”
And with that, we went our separate ways, and I ran back into the house, practicallygalloping up the stairs and over to Goldie’s room on the opposite end of the house.
Her door was open just a slither, music from the record player I bought her for herfifteenth birthday, the same sage green shade as mine, echoing out into the hall. We were both old souls when it came to music, so it didn’t surprise me when I heard the familiar tones of Dolly Parton as I nudged her door open and headed inside—
My eyes immediately snagged onto Goldie, her sundress-covered body arched over asuitcase, hills and mountains of clothes perched on either side. I felt my breath catch as watched her pick up a white t-shirt, roll it up and slot it into one of the compartments.
Suddenly my mind went cloudy, the image of Goldie being dragged onto a jet heading forLondon the only clear thing up there.
She wasn’t supposed to be leaving for four more weeks, and our parents had just said… Ithought things had changed. What was going on?
My feet felt foreign to me as I practically ran to her side. “Goldie… what?—”
“New York,” she said to my face, turning to see me beside her, her eyes wide… but notwith fear.
“What?”
She smiled up at me, her blonde braids shifting as she shook her head. “I’m… I’m comingto New York!”
All I could do was stare down at her as I muttered, “What?”
She let out a sigh as she perched on the end of her bed, making me do the same, her righthand holding my left. “The morning after you left, I went downstairs to make some breakfast, and they were both sitting at the table. When I saw them I turned around as fast as I could but they noticed me, and asked me to sit down with them.”
Her left hand found its way to the tuft of hair at the end of one of her braids. “Dad lookedlike he hadn’t slept… neither did Mom. I don’t think I’d ever seen them so… exhausted.” I nodded, I’d just seen firsthand what she meant. “Anyway, they started talking, apologising over and over again for putting their wants, and dreams, before my own. I obviously wasn’t going to let them get away with it that easily,”
“I’d never suspect any different,” I laughed, before she smiled and carried on.
“I told them how abandoned they made me feel, and while I knew they were putting medown a path that I know some people dream about… it wasn’t my path.” Her cheeks were painted the most gorgeous shade of pink, only popping the more she smiled.
“They asked me what my path looked like, and I felt very grown up when I looked themboth dead in the eyes and told them that they should already know what it looked like, considering I told them every time I mentioned how I hated acting.” Her head shook, her eyes burning straight ahead as she muttered. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the regret on their faces.”
I squeezed her hand at that, pride rippling through my pulse. I knew that, in a moment where itfinally felt like she was on top of the world, that haunting image would probably do just that… haunt her. It was a small price to pay for standing up for herself, but I guessed that she’d pay that debt a million times if it meant she never had to step foot on a film set ever again.
“And what happened after that?” I urged her, nudging her shoulder slightly, the glarefrom the sun beating down on the house casting over the tops of our knees.
“Well, after I let what I’d said sink in, for dramatic effect,” A chuckle slipped from mymouth. “I told them what I wanted to do with my life. That I wanted to go to college. That I’d been accepted onto a psychology course at Liberty Grove. Everything. I told them that New York meant being closer to you, and that it was one of the reasons I’d applied to study there… well, that, and also studying in Central Park during the springtime just sounds heavenly, to be honest.”
I nodded, “Well, I wouldn’t know about the studying aspect of it all, but the park is greatduring spring, and fall… but Flo can tell you all about that—”
“Oh yeah! And New York means finally meeting her… and Jacob, and going to herbakery!” she laughed. “Perhaps you can all give me a tour?”
Once the cloud of pastel yellow I felt my brain was bathing in settled, the light bulb inmy brain flicked on. “You know, I actually know some girls who would probably be better at giving you the whole college student tour of the city.” I only felt sorry for Flo, who’d have to deal with Cora and Rory’s squeals when I introduced them to Goldie.
“But… everything sounds like you’ve got it all planned out, Goldie. I’m…” I swallowed,ignoring the lump that had formed in my throat. “I’m so happy for you.”
She smiled up at me, and I didn’t worry when her eyes got wide this time, because sheonly clocked the amount of tears that had fallen down my face in the last two seconds, the cocktail of emotions that had been swimming around me these past few days finally overflowing.
“Hey… this is supposed to be a happy thing,” she reminded me, stretching her legs andmoving in front of me. “Why are you so— ohhh.”
I looked up at her face, all-wise and knowing, more than it usually was. I shook my headat her. “What?”
Her arms become folded, making me feel like I’m about to be scolded. And the look onher face doesn’t help with the impending telling-off either. “You owe me an explanation.” Oh no. “For whatever the hell was going on between you and Nate, what Dad was saying, all of it.” I dropped my head. “I just… what happened, Addy?”
I didn’t know where to start. Didn’t think I could look her in the eyes when I told her.
Didn’t think I could tell her, period.
“And if you deny it I’ll throw one of my psychology books at you.”
That made my head spring up. “Goldie, I—”
“Saw how big they were? Well, then maybe you’ll finally stop keeping me in the darkabout you and Nate and tell me the truth.”
Oh, she had a fire alright, and I wasn’t about to find out how bad it could burnme when she put her mind to it.
I think she saw the look on my face finally, and put two and two together: that demandingthe truth, though she deserved it, was a lot easier than it would be to hear it.
She was by my side again, a hand smoothing my hair, as I dared a look at her. “I canhandle it, I promise.” She muttered.
I took a deep breath, taking in as much air as my lungs would allow… and I told her.
Everything.
I told her about how Nate and I fell for each other, that it was a love built of helping eachother deal with our realities that we couldn’t handle on our own. I told her about Asher and the waves he’s crashed onto us, washing away the flaws and making that love become a whole lot clearer. How it made us realise that there was nothing that could tarnish it, drown it. Destroy it.
I told her about the deal, about taking a year to see the world on our own, learn how tosurvive without each other and prepare us for adulthood where moments like that would arise. I told her about the way he didn’t cry when he left for college, and how I knew something was different about him. Knowing what I know now… I knew I was right.
I told her about what it was like never hearing from him again, as though he’d vanished,as though he’d never really been there. I told how I’d held out hope, that it was just my mind playing tricks on me. That come the day we were going to see each other again… it would be like time hadn’t passed at all.
I told her about that day… when he never came.
That was where she chimed in.
“But… he was there that day. I saw him.”
I just blinked at her, catching my breath.
“Yeah, he came by the old house and told me that he needed to find something.” Her eyesaverted, like the memory was playing out in her head. “He took something with him… Oh God, what the hell did he take—”
The book. That was how he had the last book. He’d come back for the photo of me andAsher, that was what he’d told me. He must’ve taken the book while he was there.
“Yeah, well,” My voice brought her eyes back to me. “That would be the plot twist itseems. He actually did come that day. But… he only told me that the other night.”
“Oh,” was all she said, and I carried on.
I told her about the first time I saw him again at the table read from Defenders Of Time. Itold her how I felt like I was seeing a ghost, as he walked towards me, as I noticed how the countless years apart had been more than kind to him. I told her that that was how we’d figured out that staying silent was the only way to exist around each other; because there was far too much to say.
I told her all the little moments in between when I thought things could be differentbetween us. I told her about the wrap party last year, and how we almost kissed. I told her about the day after the wrap party when I’d been sent the script to Forever and Always by my agent. I told her that I didn’t mind the look of it, considering how much I loved the book. I told her about the day Nate came up to me and asked if I’d accepted the role, how I asked him how he knew about it, how I practically felt the world stop spinning when he confessed he was playing Harry.
“Why did you still agree to do the movie even though you knew you’d have to see him,and pretend to be in love with him.”
A good question, one I thought I knew the answer to when I opened my mouth to reply,when another set of words, ones different from the sentence I had lined up, casually spoke themselves between us.
“Because I didn’t have to pretend to love him.”
I almost laughed as I said that, realising how funny it sounded. Admitting that I perhapsstill loved Nate in my head was one thing, but admitting it out loud, with my sister in the room, it sounded real.
My sister could probably tell from the look on my face that I needed a distraction, so shegrabbed my hand and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? Any of it?”
I turned my head to face her, ignoring what I’d just said. “I thought… I thought nottelling you would protect you. I didn’t want you to think of him as anything other than the boy who was practically an older brother to you. Despite what he did… he was good to you, and I didn’t want that to change.”
She shrugged. “I suppose he was always good to me… but now that I know what he did,that he went about it the completely wrong way… I hate him a little more than I did last week.” She shook her head. “I just… I can’t believe he did that to you.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I guess I thought keeping the truth from you was better thanyou know the truth.”
“No, I get it. I appreciate it.” she lifted her eyes to me. “But protecting something sotightly is the first way you’re gonna lose it.”
I pulled my brows together. “What do you mean?”
She sighed. “I mean, like… your books for example.” I blinked at her. “You’ve kept themso close to your heart, hidden away from the world for so long that if you don’t let go, it’s the only place they’ll be comfortable. And… keeping what happened between you and Nate to yourself for so long, not talking about the obvious, it’s no wonder that you both crave the silence around one another… right?”
“Yeah…” I breathed.
“So, I guess I’m saying that I don’t want you to protect me from the hard things anymore.Not too long ago you were in my shoes, seeing the world for the first time on your own without two shadows over each shoulder.” She held my stare, our matching fires catching on one another. “If I’m going to survive, you need to let me see the world for what it truly is.”
She was right. She was everything right with the world. Goldie Moore was all thesunshine and happiness and wise thoughts of the world compacted into a tiny body. I had no doubt that she’d survive just fine on her own, where she’s probably always dared to be.
She’d walk the world like it was a three-step journey.
“Okay.” I nodded, tears I hadn’t realised had slipped from my eyes now skating down mycheeks, one landing on our intertwined hands. “I promise, no more protecting.”
“Thank you.” she whispered, silence gracing us for a few seconds before she launched toher feet, shaking herself like she was shaking off the emotions of the conversation and stood tall.
“So… what are you gonna do?”
“About?”
My sister rolled her fiery eyes. “The polar ice caps melting.” she said bluntly.
“What?—”
“About Nate!! What are you going to do about Nate?” She laughed, stomping her feetwith gleeful annoyance.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, my head falling along with the sighI let slip. “I have no idea, Gold’s.” I straighten up, palming my hands on my knees this time. “I have no idea.”
“Well you’ve got to think of something,” My sister said, turning around and headingtowards one of the windows, cracking it open and letting the breeze sneak in, before angling her head over her shoulder to face me. “You’ve got weeks of filming to endure with him, not speaking to him, ignoring the obvious is only going to make things worse.”
“Oh I don’t know,” I said as I stood to my feet, rounding the bed and distracting mytwitchy hands with one of the piles of clothes Goldie had left out, idly folding a t-shirt of hers. “Avoiding each other is what we do best.” I let a sarcastic smile possess my mouth.
Goldie let out a sigh as she joined me, standing opposite me on the other side of the bedwhere an identical pile of clothes lay. “Doesn’t mean it’s what’s best for you though.”
I found a rogue sock from the pile and threw it at her head. “Hey, if I’m leaving you tothe harshness of the world, then you leave me to deal with my own heartbreak.” She rolled her eyes once more, so I found the matching sock to the one I had just thrown and it met that knowing face a second later. “Nosey.”
She busied herself too, folding a pair of jean shorts and laying them flat in the suitcase.
“Well if you won’t let me meddle, maybe channel one of the many women you’ve written about… they’re brave.”
I lifted my head to meet her eyes, an effortless smile tugging at the corners of my mouthas I said, “I know real women much braver.”