Chapter 5 #2
At least, I think so. It’s not like he even gave me the courtesy of an actual breakup. He just … forgot about me. I can’t say I didn’t see this coming at this point, given the growing distance he placed between us, but I’m still in disbelief at the way he handled it. Or didn’t handle it, I guess.
I thought I meant more to him than that.
I thought we were more.
I believed we were meant to be together, thought he was ‘the one’—that what we had was the real deal, true love.
I thought we’d make it through this year, despite its challenges, and be together next year when I was finally able to join him in the city.
What a joke.
Clearly, I didn’t mean as much to him as I thought I did. As much as he meant to me.
Blinking back tears, I release my breath again in a heavy sigh, then snatch up my garbage bag.
Huge gusts of air whip from the east across the water, and I have to fight to keep my hair from my face.
It sticks to my lip gloss and catches in my lashes.
I think a storm might be rolling. Turning slightly into the wind, I move down the beach, away from the group, wanting—needing—to put some distance between us in case I have another breakdown.
They seem to hit me often and without warning lately.
I nibble on my lip, lost in thought as I zig and zag across the sand, crouching sporadically to collect the scattered waste.
I still can’t believe it’s been an entire month since I’ve heard from Riley.
His team failed to make the playoffs in March, so when the season ended, I was hopeful he’d be able to find some more time for me.
But he had endless reasons why it still wasn’t a good time for a visit.
I offered to go there for the big end-of-season dinner the coaching staff was hosting, but he said he would be distracted with his teammates and I wouldn’t have any fun. He didn’t want me to feel neglected.
Ha! I’ve got news for you, buddy …
Next, it was because exams were coming up in April and he’d be too busy studying to entertain me. I offered to help, like I’d done in high school, but he already had his own study groups, and he didn’t think they’d appreciate some girlfriend hanging around.
My friends all told me to forget about him.
That he was an asshole. That he probably had some new girl at school, and that’s why he didn’t want me to visit, but I couldn’t believe it.
Riley would never do that to me. He’s not that guy.
Then again, I never thought he’d blow me off the way he did either.
I pause for a minute to survey my progress, straightening up to stretch my back.
I’ve made it further down the beach than I’d realized, almost to the point that juts out into the water, signaling the end of this bay and the beginning of another smaller one.
Beyond it lies the narrow marshy area that joins Gryff Lake to Hedd.
A bridge spans ‘the narrows’ connecting the small downtown to more residential neighborhoods on the other side.
It’s a favorite place for fishermen because the water is shallow and slow-moving there, perfect for trawling.
I can’t see beyond the point, though, due to the large rocks that make up the majority of the outcropping.
I’m about to resume my picking when I catch a flash of movement near where the beach gives way to the rougher, rockier terrain.
Narrowing my eyes, I zero in on the area.
Two kids are scaling the large boulders in an attempt to make their way out onto the point.
But the waves are rough today—smashing against the furthest rocks and sending spindrifts high into the air—and the rocks are slippery, slick this time of year with algae and bird poop.
It’s way too dangerous for them to be out there.
As I watch, one of the tiny figures stumbles, catching a foot in a crevasse and falling to their knees. The sight urges me forward, and before I know it, I’m running.
“Hey!” I call, waving furiously at the two kids. “Get off the rocks, it’s not safe!”
They either don’t hear me or are choosing not to. Somewhere along the way, I drop my heavy garbage bag, picking up speed, but I’m forced to slow again in order to pick my way carefully across the increasingly uneven ground.
“Hey!” I call once more as I approach the boulders.
“Did you hear me? You need to get down from there!” A sprightly tween girl straightens above me.
Her long blonde hair whips around her narrow shoulders, a stark contrast against the ever-darkening sky.
She places her hands on her hips and glares down her nose at me.
“We don’t have to do what you say,” she shouts, and her indignant posture, coupled with the almost white-blonde of her hair, sparks my recognition. Immediately, my eyes jump to the lanky dark-haired boy moving swiftly across the rocks to her side, and my chest aches with familiarity and loss.
It’s Riley’s little brother, Aidan, and his best friend Ava.
The boy’s face is sullen, but so like his brother’s.
His hair is a darker shade of brown, and his eyes are a cool blue, whereas Riley’s are the pale grey, almost silver, of his mother’s.
The features, though, the straight line of his nose, even the sharpness of his youthful jaw, peppered with an uneven puberty-induced smattering of stubble, cause my heart to seize painfully.
God, I miss him so much.
“Aidan,” I manage to croak out.
The boy nods, then moves to the edge of the rock.
My breath freezes in my lungs as he takes a running jump and then launches himself from the boulder.
He hits the sand a few feet from where I’m standing, and we jointly expel an “oof” at his rough landing.
Ava alights from the rocks a moment later and joins us, slightly more gracefully.
“Jesus, you two need to be more careful,” I scold, and am met with dual eye rolls.
“It’s no big deal, we climb these rocks all the time,” Ava challenges. Aidan nods his agreement.
“Do your parents know that? I doubt they’d be okay with it. Especially this time of year when the water’s so high.”
That finally sobers them.
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Aidan asks.
I study his worried expression. “No. Not as long as you promise to stay off the point from now on.”
They exchange a glance, then turn back to me. Ava nods in agreement, though she refuses to meet my eyes. I have little faith this ‘promise’ extends beyond today, but I’ll take it.
“Whatever,” Aidan mutters.
“What made you decide to climb out there anyway? Have you looked at the weather?” I ask, gesturing towards the gathering clouds over the lake.
They share another look, and Ava frowns. “Aidan just … really needed to get out of the house. There’s some … shit going down,” she mutters. I glance back at the boy who’s glaring out over the water. He crosses his arms, and the stubborn set of his jaw reminds me so much of Riley it hurts.
“So you decided to climb dangerous rocks?”
She rolls her eyes again, attitude coming off her tiny figure in waves. “Like I said, we’ve done it plenty of times. This is where we come to think and, like, vent and stuff.”
I know it’s not my business, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Aidan, having spent plenty of time with him and Riley together over the last couple of years.
And he’s clearly hurting right now.
Despite the five-year age gap between the brothers, Riley and Aidan share a special bond, one that was only strengthened with the death of their father.
The two of them have always been close. Or at least, they were before Riley left.
Now I’m starting to wonder if that’s still the case.
Has Riley’s increasingly infrequent visits home affected their relationship as well?
As far as I know, he hasn’t been back since Christmas.
I feel a twinge of guilt for not having thought before now of the boy who’s likely been missing his brother as fiercely as I have.
I’m probably not the only one who feels abandoned, but I’ve been too caught up in my own heartbreak to think of anyone else.
Does Riley’s seeming indifference extend to his family as well? And if so, why?
“What happened?” I ask.
“My asshole brother,” Aidan spits. “That’s what happened.”
So I was right. I study the boy for a moment, searching for something, anything, to say. His jaw is clenched so tightly that a muscle ticks in his temple. His shoulders are tight, and he keeps his eyes averted.
I swallow thickly. “Well, uhm. I—” shit, this is hard. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, exactly, but I know your brother loves—”
“Bullshit,” he snaps, cutting me off.
“Aidan!” I sputter, and for the first time, he meets my gaze. His usually cool blue eyes are hot with anger and rife with pain.
“My brother doesn’t give a fuck about me, my mother, or anyone else in this town.”
“I-I’m sure it seems that way right now, but—”
He cuts me off again with a shake of his head. “Are you telling me he hasn’t been avoiding you, too? That he hasn’t written you off the way he has the rest of us?” he demands.
I drop my eyes to the sand, shaking my head sadly.
“Fucking dick,” Ava says under her breath, and I can’t disagree. Still, I feel like I have to try to help. To … say something. Despite how he’s treated me, I hate the thought of Riley’s relationship with his brother suffering too. It’s not right.
My nose stings and my eyes water with unshed tears.
I draw in a steadying breath before continuing, “Look, I don’t disagree that his behavior has been unusual, and …
okay, plain awful. He’s … hurt me,” I struggle to say, and hate how my voice wavers.
“And clearly, he’s hurt you and your mother, too.
But the good news is, school’s almost over, and you guys will have the whole summer to work things out. ”
I can’t deny I’ve been clinging to the idea myself. College exams should be wrapping up any day now. Soon, Riley will be home, and maybe, once he’s back …
But the look Aidan is giving me now is … well, I’m not quite sure what it is. I feel exposed. Like he can read my mind, see my hope, and—
“That’s just it,” Ava says softly, interrupting my thoughts. “Riley called them last night. He’s not coming back.”
My head snaps back as though I’ve been slapped, and I stumble a step away.
No, that can’t be true.
But then … am I that surprised?
Yes! Yes, I am. I thought—
I mean … I really thought—
All I can do is shake my head, over and over again. In shock. In disbelief.
My breaths are coming in fast and sharp, my chest struggling to expand.
He’s not coming home.
It really is the end.
With that thought, the final thread of hope I’d been clinging to snaps and is carried away into the swirling wind. My cheeks are wet, and it takes me a moment to realize the suddenly near-black sky has just opened up. Fat, cold raindrops splatter against my face, and my hair is instantly soaked.
It’s not tears, I tell myself ridiculously, though I know those will be along shortly.
“I’m sorry,” Ava murmurs, and I’m reminded they’re still here. The little ethereal-looking blonde and the sad, angry boy, both witness to the breaking of my heart for the hundredth and final time. She offers me a sympathetic smile, all her earlier bravado having disappeared.
I reach up to wipe the rain from my cheeks, but my efforts are futile.
It’s coming down harder and faster now, hitting the sand around us with heavy muffled thuds.
A quick glance at the sky again tells me we need to get the hell out of here.
Now. I turn back to tell them both so, to urge them to get home, to take shelter.
And that’s when I recognize the looks they’re both giving me now.
Pity.