Chapter Forty-Two
“Hi,” I say, my eyes lifting to meet John’s. His eyes shine, despite the darkness of the night sky.
“Hey.” His smile is so wide that little crinkles form around his eyes, making him look slightly older.
I want to ask him so many questions. I want him to wrap his arms around me. I want to walk out of Theo’s yard with John and go somewhere only we know.
“Are you here to take me home?” I ask.
John nods as he brings a hand to my face, stroking my jawline with his thumb. My knees buckle at his touch, both foreign and familiar. “If you’d like.”
“I would love that.”
For the millionth time tonight, my eyes burn.
Luckily I don’t need to worry about mascara running down my cheeks, since I’ve spent most of the day in the pool.
It’s only now that it occurs to me how rough I must look, as I run a hand through my frizzy hair.
But you wouldn’t know it from the way John is gazing at me.
His smile is small and bittersweet now. My heart aches as I watch it fade.
“Can we make one stop first?” he asks.
I only nod, because my throat is tight. We both know we’re going to have to say our goodbyes soon. It feels like all we ever do is say goodbye.
As we walk to his car, there’s a part of me that is tempted to navigate the hard conversation we need to have by bulldozing over it with small talk—“How was your summer?” “Your family?” “What did you do last year?”—but we both deserve more than that. We deserve closure.
At his car, we stand in silence for a moment. Space and time between us. He opens the door, and I get inside. His eyes latch onto mine. My heart races, trying to think of everything I want to say to him, but there’s not enough time. There’s never enough time.
He gets in and turns the ignition. An old, familiar song plays in the background as he shifts his car into drive. I look back at Theo’s home one last time before facing forward.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I say. The air between us is so thick my words struggle to cut through.
“I know,” he says, then he clears his throat.
“I’m happy for you. And I’m so proud. I’m not sure how you convinced your parents to let you go,” he says with a small laugh.
He comes to a red light and turns to look at me.
“You know, despite all the differences your father and I have, we both share a deep love for you. And I think,” he glances at the street before turning his gaze back to me, “part of me felt comforted in the fact that, because of how protective he is, you would never be too far from me. His little bird.” John shakes his head.
The light turns green, and he continues to drive.
“I hate the fact that part of me wanted to keep you caged up so I would always know where to find you.”
“It took me a long time to realize that when we said goodbye last October it really was goodbye. I’d gotten so used to all our back-and-forth that I almost expected you to come back for me. But then you didn’t,” I say, around a tight swallow.
He doesn’t respond, just keeps driving. Every now and then the streetlights we pass briefly spotlight his face, like he’s a still image in one of those old black-and-white silent films. He turns the car into a subdivision, driving past cookie-cutter homes and fire hydrants painted like little people.
My heart clenches at the simplicity, a view that will be foreign to me for the next four years.
You really never know what you have until it’s gone.
Or until it’s taken away from you. The finality of losing something or someone never hits until it’s too late.
You always believe there will be at least one more time.
A moment when you’ll be able to say everything you want to say perfectly.
So you hold back. And then, just like that, you’ve reached the end and there are no words left to be said.
No moments left to be had. Only memories.
Along with would-haves and should-haves.
Regrets, they slice sharper than a knife.
John pulls into a small parking lot and turns off the engine. He rests his arm on the center console and it bumps mine. I breathe in the feel of his warm skin pressed against my arm.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asks.
I remain still, afraid to blink for fear he’ll be gone again. “Yeah.”
We get out of the car and he takes my hand as we walk along a gravel path. “I kept my distance in part because it was practically impossible to reach you,” he says, finally responding to my words from earlier. “But also because I needed time to figure things out for myself.”
“And did you?”
“You want the truth?” John asks.
We’ve come to a footbridge, and we stop halfway across. He drops my hand before leaning his elbows on the railing. It’s hard to see past our own noses in the dark, but every so often the glow of the moon lights up his face, and I fall in love with him all over again.
“Yes. The truth,” I say, matching his pose.
“Okay,” he says, blowing air out of his mouth and nodding.
“The truth is, I was completely lost after what happened between us in New York. I felt terrible, like I’d messed up your life and taken something important away from you.
I didn’t feel worthy. And that’s always been my issue, it wasn’t fair to make it yours.
I hated that I couldn’t protect you from what happened.
Even worse that I had something to do with it.
” He pauses, shaking his head. “A silver condom wrapper broke us apart.”
I clasp my hands, looking down at the water below us.
“You’ve never given yourself enough credit for what an amazing person you really are.
You made it through high school while your home life was falling apart.
You were the glue that kept your family together.
You’re the one who got your father the help he needed, time and time again.
You raised your little brother when you needed someone to raise you.
And you,” I touch his face and turn it to mine, “you made me feel like I was the most important person in your universe. You saw me in a way no one ever has before, or since. You have this ability—you’ve had this ability, since day one—to peel back all my layers to get to the real me.
You have been my safe place, and I have zero regrets about letting you into my life.
” I straighten and take John’s hands so that he’s facing me.
“Being with you in New York was a fairy tale. I would never take back that moment. It was perfect. You were perfect. We were perfect.”
John releases my hands and pulls me into a hug. My cheek presses against his chest as his lips meet my forehead.
“I hated saying goodbye to you in that empty classroom last year, but I know it’s what we both needed,” he says, the warmth of his breath passing over me.
I pull away slightly, keeping my gaze firmly planted on his face. “What do you mean?”
He swallows and looks down at me. “If you and I had tried again, it would have only caused more friction with your father, and we’d have continued to be in the same, constant, heartbreaking loop.
Something had to change. Despite every fiber of my body yelling at me to ask you to try again, I walked away.
And clearly it was the right decision, because look at you now.
” He smiles so broadly that his scar disappears.
“Columbia. New York City. You’re about to live out your dream. ”
I shake my head, even though everything he’s saying is true. “I prayed every night for you to come back to me. You were supposed to come back to me.”
“I did, Lennon. I’m here now.”
“Now,” I say, with a bitter laugh. “Hours before I leave.”
John brings both hands to my arms and grips them. He lowers his head to mine again. “The path may not have been ideal, but you’re about to get everything you want.”
“Not everything,” I say, meeting his gaze. I get lost in his blue eyes. The little frown in his forehead. The shaggy brown hair. The face I see every time I close my eyes. “Do you have everything you want?” I ask.
“Mostly.” He exhales another sharp breath.
“Tomorrow, I start year two of the carpentry program. This year will be mostly apprenticeships. I love it, Lennon. I’ve found my calling.
When I’m in the workshop with music on, I’m in the zone.
I lose track of time. And that’s what I want—not to be watching a clock.
God,” he says, raking a hand through his hair, “the number of times I wanted to call you and tell you about how much I was enjoying the program, how it felt like you were part of the reason I was doing what I loved.”
“I’m happy for you. And your family?” I ask. It’s the kind of question no one wants to ask, but the kind of question that must be asked in order to move forward.
John places a hand on the back of his neck and sighs. “Dad relapsed. Again. This time it was really bad.” His eyes shut tight. “He hit rock bottom last September. Alcohol poisoning.”
“Oh my god. Is he okay now?”
“The doctor in the emergency room said if he didn’t stop drinking, immediately, the damage to his liver would…he was close to death. Like he was at the top of a waterfall, and if he took one more drink, he’d tip over and there’d be no going back. He stopped drinking that night.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say softly, wishing I could take away all his pain.
“We didn’t tell my sister or Mikey at first. We sprang into action to get him clean.
Got him back into rehab after they detoxed him.
It felt like we were all in survival mode.
He’s working the program now. We can’t be sure what the future holds.
His body sure as hell can’t take much more, but like they say in AA, one day at a time. ”
“And there’s me wallowing in self-pity, and I had no idea you were going through all of that.”
“No one did. When someone in your family is sick, it becomes your whole life. Between my dad, my family, and school, I had nothing left to give. It’s why I was able to walk away from you last fall.
But as we slowly crawled our way back to the surface, I started to think about you and me again.
Then Theo told me that you were going to Columbia, and all I knew was that I had to come and say goodbye before you left. ”
“So where does that leave us?” I ask, the words escaping my lips.
“You’re about to go on a big adventure. You’re finally choosing yourself. Beautiful bird, you need to fly.” He takes my hand and holds onto it so tightly it almost hurts.
“The caged bird only flies away if it wants to,” I say, my voice quiet.
“Do you want to?” he asks, tipping his head down to meet my eyes.
“Yeah.” I nod and then follow that with a deep exhale. “Yes. I want to. But I also want you.”
He runs his fingers through my tousled hair and smiles.
“I have this dream,” he says, his voice soft, hopeful.
“In it, I walk up to your door and instead of knocking I let myself in. Your father greets me with a handshake. You come down the stairs and our eyes meet. We smile because you’re where you want to be and I’m where I want to be.
No what-ifs. No secrets. No regrets. Just the future ahead of us. Our future.”
“Sounds nice,” I say with a small smile. “But putting more distance between us won’t make things easy. And what if I don’t end up coming back home after graduating? What if one of us gets hurt or…even worse? A lot can happen in four years.”
“We’re connected,” he says, around a smile. His smile, I know all too well, is just for me. “We always will be. No matter what.”
“No matter what,” I echo.
“On the last page of The Sun Also Rises, Lady Brett Ashley says to Jake, ‘We could have had such a damned good time together.’ And Jake responds, ‘Yes…Isn’t it pretty to think so?’ I don’t want that ending for us, Lennon.
I don’t want any what-ifs to haunt us. I don’t want that to be our last page. Or this. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say, looking up at him.
I press my lips against his, my fingers digging into his back.
My body falls into him, my knees unable to support the intensity of his mouth on mine again.
We pull away for a second, and wisps of my long, dark hair cover my face.
Our chests rise and fall as rain begins to pour down on us.
John takes my hand and we run back to his car, the parking lot now deserted, the sky inky black.
He opens the door to the back seat and we tumble in.
Rain pounds on the roof, streams down the windows, shielding us from the world outside.
We very clumsily try to remove each other’s clothing.
I climb on top of him, and we move in sync, our bodies falling together like embers at the end of a long-burning fire.
I pull back slightly, studying the curves in his face, trying to remember every line. “The person I am with you might not be the best version of myself, but it’s the most real. Mask off,” I say.
His hands clasp me tighter, clinging to me, while the raindrops mimic the beating of our hearts as we come together as one.
Our eyes open and latch onto one another’s. When we’re together, minutes move faster than seconds, and when we’re apart, every minute lasts a lifetime.
“We see the same colors. Colors other people don’t see. We hear the same songs. Songs other people don’t hear. Lennon.” John places his hand on my face, and I can’t help but lean into it. His voice is soft, his breath is warm, as he brings his lips to my ear. “It’s always been you.”
Nestling my head into his shoulder, we hold one another even tighter. I could say it back. Promise him the world and my heart. But I don’t need to. And I don’t think he needs me to, either.
For most of my life, everything I did, every move I made, came back to my dad. How would he feel? What would he think? Am I making him proud?
Then I met John, and for the last few years, everything has kept coming back to him. How could he and I make it work? Could I be happy if I chose him over everyone?
But it wasn’t really about John, or me and John.
It wasn’t even about my dad.
It’s always been about me. I’ve been the common denominator. I just wasn’t able to see it before, not when the hopes and dreams of others were pinned on me.
Love shouldn’t come with conditions.
Love can’t exist without acceptance.
Love starts from within.
My eyes meet John’s again, as if his are my North Star.
I’m not sure of many things, but I know when I look up to the night sky the moon will be there, whether I see her or not.
Despite clouds or wind, rain or snow, she’ll be up there, her beautiful incandescent light grounding me.
And whether John and I are in the same room or a million miles away, our love will always be there.
Always existing. Always beating. Always.
Always.
Always.
Isn’t it pretty to think?