Find You in the Dark (44 page)

  “
I need to go back to the motel and get mine and Clay's things.”  I said as my dad pulled out onto the road.  “I don't know if that's a good idea.”  My mom sounded concerned.  I leaned forward and gripped the seat.  “Please, Mom.  I need to do this.”  My mom and dad didn't pose any more arguments.  And when we pulled up to the Motel 6, my parents and friends accompanied me into the tiny room that held my last good memories of Clay and I together. 

 
I felt like he had died, because I knew I wouldn't be allowed to see or talk to him for a very long time.  At least not until Clay was able to make those decisions for himself.  I wanted to be confident in the belief that he would contact me as soon as he was able.  But I couldn't be sure and that made the hollow feeling that was building in my chest nearly intolerable.  Clay had looked so broken when I left.  I wasn't positive he would ever be a part of my life again.

  “
Shit.” Rachel breathed as she took in the destroyed room.  No one said anything as I pulled out Clay's duffel bag and started gathering the clothes that he hadn't shredded and stuffed them inside.  I went into the bathroom and almost lost it at the sight of the dried blood on the floor.  I closed the door and fell to my knees and let loose my pain.  I cried for Clay, for myself, for the future together that we would never have.  I put a clean towel under the tap and then got on my knees and scrubbed.  I wanted to wipe up every last drop of his blood; as though that would erase the horrible memories of him lying motionless in my arms as I struggled to keep him with me – to keep him alive.

 
I must have been in there for quite awhile, because my mom came in and found me furiously wiping the floor.  “Honey, you can leave that.  That's enough.”  She said gently, yet I couldn't stop.  I wet the towel again and got back on my knees and scrubbed some more.  “Maggie.  Please, just leave it.”  She got down on the floor with me and put her hands over mine.  I looked up into her eyes that were filled with love and concern.   “You don't have to do this.  Leave it here.”  I knew that she meant more than the blood.  I dropped the towel and let her take me out of the bathroom.  Daniel picked up the duffel bag and we closed the door to the motel room.  I left the key card outside on the stoop.

 
Rachel rode beside me on the way home, squeezing my hand every so often.  I let my head drop to her shoulder and my best friend stroked my hair as we finally made our way back home.

             
             
             
            Epilogue

  “
Maggie, can you bring me the bag of salt from the garage?”  My mother called from the front door.  I got up off the couch and made my way to the foyer.  My mom was covered in fresh snow and I could see it falling from the late January sky behind her.  “I think your dad put it up on the shelf.  Hurry up, this snow won't shovel itself.”  I pulled on my boots and thick wool coat.  I stuffed my hands into a pair of gloves and went outside, then around to the side of the house toward the garage. 

 
Two months and I was still trying to feel normal, like I still fit inside this life that I had once called mine.  My parents kept me busy.  My weekends were now filled with shopping trips and movies.  My parents had decided to try their hand at some home improvements and enlisted my help in figuring out how to hang drywall and use my mother's ancient sewing machine to make curtains. 

 
Christmas had been hard.  I had expected to hear something from Clay, but the holiday came and went.  Nothing.  Just silence.  I tried to hide the hurt I felt, but I wasn't fooling anyone.  Rachel and Daniel had been glued to my side for the entire winter break. Even though they were a little suffocating, I appreciated their presence.

 
Now that I was back in school, Rachel had talked me into signing up for the school musical. I was helping out with the set designs and that was eating up a lot of my down time in the evenings.  Time I would have otherwise been moping in my room. 

 
Everyone else was trying, so why couldn't I?  Most of the time I put on a good show.  I had become  well-practiced at pretending I wasn't broken inside.  Pretending that part of me didn't still linger in that tiny room in the ICU where Clay and I had last been together.

  “
Do you need help with that?”  My dad asked, as I struggled to get the bag of salt from the shelf.  I gave up and let him get it down for me.  “Wow, that's heavier than I thought.  You want me to take it to your mom?”  He asked.  I laughed at him.  “You are so out of shape Dad.  We're getting you on an exercise plan as soon as it's warm.” I threatened him.  My dad feigned indignation.  “I'm plenty in shape.”  “Sure you are, Mr. 'I eat four donuts for breakfast and a bag of Doritos for lunch'.  Go on inside and let us younger, fitter people handle the heavy lifting.”  I joked.  My dad chuckled, but left me to my chore.

 
It felt good to have my relationship with my parents on the mend.  Sure, they still watched me closely.  But I really couldn't blame them.  I had dragged them through hell and back.  I deserved their vigilance, despite how much it smothered me at times.

 
I wasn't entirely sure what they were watching for, though.  Clay was gone.  I hadn't heard from him or his parents since that day in the hospital waiting room.  Not that I was surprised.  His mother made it very clear she wanted me to have absolutely nothing to do with her son.  But I struggled with the betrayal that pierced my chest when I wondered why Clay hadn't tried harder to get a hold of me.  I had honestly thought his love for me was stronger than that.  If the tables were turned, I knew I would stop at nothing to talk to him again. 

 
But I tried to focus on the margin of happiness I felt in knowing, that despite not hearing from him, he was getting help somewhere.  Even if it was away from me.  Yeah, I didn't wear selflessness very well.

 
And every time I thought of him, I ached inside and I found it hard to breathe.

 
I had wondered a million times how I could possibly go on living when my heart was gone?  How was it possible that it still beat in my chest when it felt so empty?

  “
Here you go, Mom.”  I said, as I let the heavy bag fall to the ground.  My mom stopped shoveling and bent over to rip open the bag.  “Thanks Maggie May.”  She said before dumping some salt on the sidewalk.   “I don’t know why you bother.  Just wait until it stops snowing.  You realize it'll just have to be redone in the morning.”  I told her, watching her freshly shoveled path disappearing under a blanket of white.  “Because it'll be much worse in the morning if I don't do some of it now.”  She said, returning to her task. 

 
I just shook my head and turned to head back into the house.  I stopped for a moment, possessed by some childish impulse.  I turned my face upwards toward the sky and stuck out my tongue, letting the cold flakes melt in my mouth.  I loved the snow and it, like almost everything else, reminded me of Clay.  I remembered our time at the cabin, lying together in the loft as snow fell outside and thinking that I could never be happier than I was at that moment.   I sighed.  Those memories were a blessing and a curse.  I was thankful that I had them, but they hurt so much.  It had to get better eventually, right?  I asked myself this every single day.  I slowly trudged forward, my steps feeling heavier than they had before.

 
I tried hard to pull it all together.  I wanted to be the daughter my parents deserved, and the friend I knew Rachel and Danny needed.  But it was hard to be that girl some days.  Maybe it was the lack of closure.  Not knowing what Clay was doing, or
how
he was doing made it tortuous.   Then there were the doubts that festered like a disease in my mind.  Sometimes I found myself thinking that maybe he realized he
was
better off without me.  That what we had wasn't as life altering for him as it had been for me.  That maybe, I was alone in the love I still felt as deeply as I had from its onset.  I tried to put my dismal thoughts away.  Every day I tried.  I couldn't let myself get mired in them, or I'd likely find myself in the same depression I had been drowning in for too long after leaving Clay lying there in the hospital.  I determined that I must go on, move forward, live my life, and be as happy as I was capable of without him.  Despite how daunting and impossible the task seemed.

 
I caught sight of the mail truck as it skidded to a stop in front of the house.  I don't know why it made me pause, but it did.  I walked out to meet the mail man.  “Here, I'll get that.”  I said, forcing a smile and taking the pile of envelopes.  “Drive safely.” I told him as he got back in his truck. He thanked me and left.

 
My hands began to shake as I sorted through the stack of bills and junk mail.  My reaction was always the same when the mail arrived. I always wished, actually yearned, for just once be a letter addressed to me.  I hated that I repeatedly go my hopes up, but I did anyway. 

 
But this time, I found what I was looking for.  There at the bottom of the pile was a small envelope.  Pulling it out, my heart stuttered at the sight of my name written in a familiar, sloping hand.  Funny how just the sight of his handwriting had the power to shred my guts.

 
Standing there, with snow up to my ankles, I didn't know what to do.  Part of me wanted to rip the letter to pieces, frightened by the crippling pain that would inevitably accompany his words.  But that was such a small part of the hurricane of emotions I was feeling that I hastily shoved it away.  Of course I would read it.  I had to.  I felt compelled to, never mind the emotional wreckage it could create.  It wasn't really even an option.  I most definitely would read it.  Just not right now.

 
I folded up the letter and put it in my jean pocket and went about the rest of my day, even as the envelope weighed me down like a stone around my neck. 

 
I spent the rest of the morning channel surfing, enjoying the snow day.  Rachel and Daniel trekked over in the afternoon and Rachel insisted on giving me a hair cut.  Normally I wouldn't let scissors anywhere near me, but with Clay's words deep in my pocket, I felt a sudden overwhelming need for change.  Daniel flopped down on my bed and leafed through a magazine as Rachel snipped and layered and snipped some more.  “I can't believe you read this junk.”  Daniel snorted.  Rachel held my head straight as I tried to see the article he was reading on how to get a boy to notice you.  “If you don't want to have to buzz your head later, hold still.”  I immediately sat up straight.

 
When Rachel was finished she held up a mirror.  “So, whatcha think?”  She asked.  I turned my head side to side and grinned.  She had done an awesome job.  My normally long brown hair had been chopped off above my shoulders.  Rachel had given me chunky layers around my face and it looked amazingly sleek and stylish.  I fluffed it.  “You have a gift, my friend.” I complimented, very pleased with the end result.  Daniel looked up and gave me a low whistle.  “You look hot, Mags.”  Rachel and I grinned.  

  “
So Maggie...”  Daniel began.  I was instantly suspicious, because he
never
used my full name.  I looked at him archly.  “Yes.”  I prompted.  “I was talking to Jake Fitzpatrick the other day and he was asking about you.”  I looked away from my best friend.  I knew he was trying to be helpful, wanting me to move on with my life.  Attempting to re-acclimate me to the life I had led before Clay had appeared in it.  But Jake Fitzpatrick, actually any guy, didn't have a chance as long as Clay still held my heart.

  “
Don't think so, Danny.” I said lightly, trying to hide the misery the thought of dating other guys created.  “Jake's hot.  I mean, what would it hurt to go out on a date with him?  We could all go together if that would make it easier.  It's not as though you're cheating.  I mean...you know, I don't think Clay's...ummm...well...you know.”  Rachel didn't finish her thought, letting her sentence trail off into what became an awkward silence.

 
Her well-intentioned encouragement made me snap and I flushed with anger.  “Well, I can't do that okay.  I love Clay and it wouldn't be right. So just drop it please.”  I told them shortly.  I didn't miss the look that passed between the two.  And the subject was dropped.

 
Daniel and Rachel didn't stay much longer and sadly, I was relieved when they left.  Trying to put on my happy face was proving difficult today.  Not when I was just waiting to read Clay's letter. 

 
Finally, after dinner, I excused myself and went to my room.  My parents didn't question it, as this had become my normal routine.  I closed the door behind me and sat on my bed.  I slowly pulled out the crumpled letter from my pocket and held it, feeling its warmth from being tucked against me all day.

 
I inspected the envelope and saw that there was no return address.  That seemed to speak pretty loudly that whatever Clayton Reed had to say to me required no response.  I couldn't help but feel equal parts angry and hurt by that.

 
Tearing open the envelope, I carefully unfolded the paper.  My name jumped out at me.  I noticed the indentations where Clay had pressed his pen down hard.  I could almost feel his anxiety.   His fear.  His grief.  Undoubtedly because that was exactly how I was feeling.  I closed my eyes, bracing myself and gearing up my nerve.  Then I began to read.  His love for me immediately lept up from the page.  I was almost crippled with the intense relief.  I realized then how scared I had been that he would stop loving me.  That he would go on and live his life and forget all about me. But I guess I should have given him more credit than that.