33. 7 Years Ago #3
We cried together then, deep, heavy sobs of yearning and heartbreak and missed opportunities.
The next morning, I called Gabby to accept the job.
~
Monday was Labor Day. I woke up early and walked to Green Pines, like usual.
When I got there, I turned on the claustrophobic shower, making the water as hot as possible, letting it scorch my skin as it ran through my hair and down my back.
I yearned to wash these hours off me, to scrub the sorrow out of my pores and rewind to some other time in a world where happy endings actually existed.
Not any world I’ve ever known, I thought, massaging my scalp with shampoo, my fingernails scratching the back of my neck and working in small circles by my temples.
I washed my body with a bar of Dove soap, the smell reminding me of Aunt Lucy, who’d been using white bars of Dove for as long as I could remember.
It always smelled so fresh. It’s amazing how soap can create the illusion of a fresh start.
After conditioning my hair and rinsing until the water began to go cold, I toweled off and got dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top.
Looking around, the task of packing up the little cabin seemed enormous, though really, all I needed to do was strip the bed, unplug the coffee pot, throw the milk crates full of clothing into my car, and put my toiletries and the jar filled with beach glass in a bag.
It wouldn’t take long; I remembered from the last time I left this place.
My memory served correctly. Half a day to move in. Fifteen minutes to move out. It was as simple as hitting the delete button on an unwanted e-mail. My chest tightened, rewinding the space to the empty way I’d found it.
I broke the news about the job to Pat the day before, and he took it well.
He told me I was always welcome to come back to Sound Hollow, and to use the fall as a trial run at the center.
He’d be officially retiring on January 1st, so if I wanted the job of camp director, it would be waiting for me at that time.
Dottie made me a small Opening Day cake to take on my move to Queens. “For your new beginning,” she whispered, hugging me goodbye.
I couldn’t find the words to thank her, but I squeezed her with the force of an army.
When it was time to go, I drove to the cliff, knowing Matt was cleaning out the Cliff House that morning. We'd promised each other we would skip the theatrics, to try and hold it together. It was an awful proposition, but there wasn’t a scenario where leaving would be easy.
He was sweeping when I walked in.
“It’s time already?” he asked.
I nodded. Then, I came close to him, and he let the broom fall to the ground.
I wrapped my arms around my first and only love, feeling his chest against mine.
His heart was pounding through his T-shirt, and I heard him sniffle.
I couldn’t pull back and look at him, because I knew I’d fall apart.
I didn’t want to do that to him. Instead, I buried my face into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of Matt, and camp, and home.
“I love you,” he whispered into my hair.
“I love you more,” I replied.
“I love you most,” he murmured.
I shook my head and pulled out of the embrace. Still unable to look at him, I planted a firm kiss on his lips, my eyes shut tightly.
“Not possible,” I said.
Matt held me back to look at me, in much the same way he had just a few months prior, when he found me outside Green Pines, taking a break from moving in.
“We’re not finished here,” he told me. “I’ll call you later.
We’ll figure out a plan. Two hours distance is nothing for us, really.
Maybe we can see each other next weekend. ”
“That would be nice,” I agreed.
“I’m going to miss you.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
One more kiss, long, slow, and sweet, brought me back to the first time we ever met. After our lips parted, I whispered, “I’m really glad you didn’t end up going to ninja camp.”
Matt kissed my forehead. “Me too.”
I sighed heavily, trying to gain my composure. “I really should get going.”
“I know. I’ll call you later, okay?”
I nodded. I placed my hand on his heart. He put his hand over it. “Forever,” I whispered.
He didn’t walk me out to my car, because we knew that would be too painful, and I’d never leave if I had to see him standing there in the rearview. The dust kicked up behind me as I made my way down the long dirt road, turning right out of the gate, heading towards town.
I stopped my car in the parking lot of a T-Mobile right next to Panera because I couldn’t see from crying so hard. I wondered when things had changed so much, when the town became so commercial, so much more complicated than just farmstands and fields.
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I grabbed my phone and got out of the car.
I set it down on the counter of the neon pink shop.
“Can I help you?” a salesgirl asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my breath shaky but my resolve as strong as it would ever be. “I need to change my phone number.”