Heart on a Shoestring (8 page)

“Thanks, Turtle.”

A few seconds later we walked into a clearing. No trees. Only grass the color of Granny Smith apples standing between us and a cliff. Or maybe an embankment. I couldn’t tell.

“Thought you were afraid of heights?” I elbowed him as we walked.

He nudged me back. “It’s not as high as it looks.”

We stood at the edge and peered over. Thousands and thousands, and I mean thousands, of wild flowers. Mostly red from what I could tell. Flecks of deep burgundy amidst a sea of green, floating in the breeze like little boats captured by the golden lines of the sun. I gasped. Derek stood, hands in his pockets, back straight, shoulders high, and grinned. Like a boy on his papa’s lap. I looked around, then back to him.

His eyes locked with mine and my heart rate picked up. I turned and stood in front of him, the red boats behind me. His deep, mysterious, slightly squinted eyes in front of me. He took my hands and shifted his weight to his left leg. The sunset warmed his brown hair, creating auburn highlights even in his newly grown facial hair. My eyes stumbled over his lips, down his neck, chest, then to his hands, tightly locked with mine. 

My pulse, hasty with passion, surged through my veins. There. That feeling again. The one where I can no longer feel my legs and every part of me wants to fall into him. Melt into him. Be part of him.

He ran his hands up my arms, to my shoulders, and stopped at my neck. My knees. They couldn’t bear it. I closed my eyes and gently held his arms as he moved a hand up my neck. I could no longer feel the burns from that plant. Tingly pricks of passion took over. His thumb stopped by my temple and his palm rested below my ear, cradling my head with a fragile strength. I opened my eyes and swept his gaze into me.

He leaned toward me, then hesitated. Unsure of what a kiss would do to our budding friendship, just like me. Would it blossom or destroy it altogether? Neither of us wanted a broken heart.

I waited.

He waited. 

The wildflower meadow behind me waited. Anticipating. Where would the story of my life go next?

He moved his thumb across my cheek and traced my brow, then somehow, without me realizing it, his lips tangled with mine. My eyes closed and our chins touched, but I saw images of him smiling as we kissed. He pulled his lips away. Too early. And pressed his forehead into mine. I waited a minute. Caught my breath. Then kissed him again. My legs weakened even more and I lost my balance. His hand gripped my arm as I fell backwards and rolled down the hill. My back whacked against something and my leg twisted and seared with pain. I landed in the field of red petals and scrunched my face. 

Out of nowhere, he knelt beside me. “Quite a spill there. Anything hurt?”

“My back and left leg hurt.”

“How bad?”

I shrugged. “You look good in flowers.”

“Can you move your toes?”

I tried. 

“Did you try?”

“Yes.”

He lifted me into his arms and carried me through the meadow.

“Wait,” I said. “Can you hand me a flower or two? Or just bend down a little and I can get it.”

He bent his legs so I could pick one. And I picked three. I wanted to save them. Just in case. You never know what kind of moments you may want to remember forever. I didn’t know, but just in case....

There are two kinds of beautiful. There’s the kind that makes you turn your head and look with your eyes. Then, there’s the rare beauty that blinds you. That’s the kind that sticks with you forever. The kind that steals your vision and when you finally open your eyes you see the world differently. More vivid and colorful and beautiful.

Like her.

She affected me. Infected me, rather.

As I carried her to the tent, wrapped her leg in a make-shift splint, and brushed the hair from her face, I knew she had infected me with some kind of desire. A desire I couldn’t yet place. All I knew was the day before I questioned life and now I simply enjoyed it. No questions. No opinions. Isn’t that strange? Derek Rhodes? Speechless?

My sister would be happy. Perhaps my mother too.

I packed our stuff, carried her down the hill as the sun finally caved in and offered us the moon, and went back up to fetch the bags. By the time I came down she had decided to wait until morning to go to the hospital.

“You sure?” I said. “I have an extra boat docked here. It’s only a few yards around that bend. It’s actually my friend Aaron’s, but he said I could use it.”

“Thought you said no one else has ever been here?”

“He hasn’t.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the large rocks behind her. Her eyes searched mine. “Why’d you bring me here?”

“I used to be like you. I sought attention in several ways and eventually rebelled against it all, but it seriously backfired in my face.”

She motioned for me to continue.

“Oh, what the hell. I’m attracted to you. Whether I want to be or not, since the first time I saw you at my sisters wedding. Those little pink flowers stuck in your violet hair. Your pink dress and green scarf that you named Willow Tree. The way you walked. The way you laughed. The way you so willingly left their house with a strange guy you had never met before. Not to mention the talk we had while parked behind the grocery store. You were intelligent and you fascinated me. You were more than a body. You were a mind and a heart. I liked that, I guess.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I said too much.”

“I don’t know what to say…” she said. “So wait, I still don’t get why you brought me here. And why did you want to get rid of my luggage?”

“I wanted you to see that you don’t need all that to be beautiful. Or loved. Or whatever. Your identity isn’t wrapped up in your hobbies, hair colors, or clothes. I wanted you to be free of that and see how beautiful you are like this.”

“Like what?”

“At rest.”

She uncrossed her arms and clasped her hands, then peered at me though strands of unwashed hair. “This scares me, Derek.”

“What?”

“This feeling I have when I look at you.”

I sat down beside her. Took her hand and traced her palm. Truth is, I was nervous too. Worried that we’d go back home and forget this experience happened. She’d lose those flowers she picked and our first kiss would be the last. Two broken hearts are difficult to mold into one. Too many pieces to find first. She deserved someone better. Someone whole. Someone who could make her whole.

I held her under the moon’s sheepish grin as peaceful waves glided to shore, rocking us both to sleep. I woke up every hour or so, counted stars, then fell back asleep. Repeated until the sun broke through the clouds and glistened on the waves and her eyelids. I kissed them. And she woke too.

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital now,” I said. “Then, I’ll take you home. After that, we’ll pretend this never happened.”

She kissed me. Soft and quick. Then, without a single word spoken between us, we took the boat back to my car, loaded it up, and drove to the nearest hospital. I didn’t tell her why I couldn’t go inside, but she didn’t mind. She braved it alone and texted me when she was done. I picked her up, helped her into the car, and drove back to Pennsylvania.

As we passed through Maryland she started texting a mile a minute. 

“Who’s that?” I said.

“Heidi. Her little one is recovering well from surgery. Patrick and her set a date for their wedding. She said they’re going to have it at the skate park.”

“That will be . . . different.”

She smiled. “And what’s your ideal wedding?”

“It’ll never happen.”

“You don’t think you’ll ever get married?”

“If I do, the last thing I’ll be worried about is where it is and what she wears.”

We barely talked the rest of the drive. She slept on and off. I was amazed at how well she handled the pain. She refused the pain killers and took some extra arnica I had in my car. I doubt it helped much in her situation, but she seemed strong. Must’ve been the tomboy from days gone by. Her fracture wasn’t too bad, but still. It hurts. Course I had never broken a bone, at least not my own, so I guess I didn’t know for sure.

We finally parked in front of her apartment building. Awkward silence. I didn’t know whether to get out or stay still. She pulled her old journal out of her bag and handed it to me. “I want you to have this.”

I didn’t ask why or what I was supposed to do with it. Couldn’t even muster the words, “Thank you.” Wasn’t sure if I should’ve been thankful anyway. Why would she give me her journal?

“You are one of the few people who truly knows me.” She kissed my cheek. “Let’s promise to never let a relationship ruin our friendship.”

I didn’t respond. Not sure I wanted to promise such a thing. Obviously I wasn’t sure of much.

I wanted to carry her up the steps, but she insisted she’d be okay with her hot pink cast and wooden crutches. So I watched as she limped away and turned to blow me a kiss just before slipping into the doorway.

I missed her already. Almost felt unnatural to say goodbye to her and I didn’t know what to make of that feeling. A feeling I’d never felt before with a woman. Things were so different with Ashleigh. So much darker, lust-driven, and bitter. A memory I wished I didn’t have. I pulled into the streets of Philadelphia. One red light after another and I made my way to the highway that would take me back home. Two states away from my best friend.

Without a doubt, that drive home was the longest drive of my life. 

Loneliest too.

A few days after my trip with Derek, I settled down for bed when a text from a strange number appeared on my phone. Didn’t recognize the area code. A simple,
Hey, Miranda. Is it still your number?
I asked who it was and quickly received his response. I couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he came back. I thought about him so often, wondering if we’d reunite and hit it off. Wondering if he’d be the one I’d give my heart to.

Me:
Oliver?? From the beach??

Oliver:
Yes. It’s me. Look, I’m really sorry I never called.

Me:
I didn’t think you actually would. Why are you now?

Oliver:
I know we had a typical beach fling, and most people never talk again. I haven’t been able to stop thinkin about you since. I know it’s been years. I just found your number when I was packing up to move. Can we meet up?

Me:
I’m not interested in flings.

Oliver:
Me neither.

Me:
Then what?

Oliver:
I want to see you.

Me:
We barely know each other. It was one night. One kiss.

Oliver:
Can we meet and see?

Miranda:
It’s late. I will text you tomorrow. Are you visiting from the UK?

Oliver:
I’m here in the States for good now.
 

Only me. Only in my life would the guy I dreamt about for years come back and want to see me. Exactly like I always imagined and hoped. At exactly the wrong time. I didn’t wash my shirt for weeks when I came home from the beach that year. Smelled his Tommy Hill cologne as I slept for days on end.

Oliver?

Really?

Oh dear. I propped my hot pink leg up on my bed and called Heidi. The only person I could trust with the details of my heart.

She answered. We got by on small talk for a few minutes, then I unveiled my heart. “Derek took me to this amazing place. Like a surreal escape from the world. Something I’ve only dreamed of seeing. Here’s the thing, though. I think I started to fall in love with him.”

“And that’s bad?” she said. “You guys have been destined to fall in love since you first met. What’s taking so long for you to realize that?”

“I can’t, Heidi.” I took a deep breath and surprised myself when a tear fought it’s way to my cheek. “He’s so closed off. Something’s not right. And we’re such great friends. He’s my best friend, really. I’ve never been so close to another person. Every person I’ve dated falls out of love with me or realizes he never loved me in the first place. I’m so scared he will do the same and I can’t bear the thought of not having him in my life at all.”

“I don’t think you can compare Derek to your exes.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“He’s so much more mature.”

“He is, but I don’t know. I don’t trust him in that way.”

“Do you trust anyone?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I trusted myself. My ability to protect my heart from real pain by giving it to guys who I didn’t like all that much to begin with. No strings attached.

“Well?” she said.

“I like falling in love without the pressure of commitment. I get to experience the fun beginning stage over and over without the blood, sweat, and tears.”

“You realize how horrible that sounds, right?”

Not sure I did.

“Miranda, I’m saying this because I love you, but that is insanely selfish of you. To spend your life giving guys the wrong impression just so you can feel fuzzy sensations and not get your heart broken if they cheat on you. Do you really want to end up single in your forties, still going from man to man, all because you fear arguments and conflicts?”

I tried to swallow her words, but they got stuck in my teeth. “I don’t fear conflict.”

“Yes, you do. You fear that you’ll actually give your heart to someone and he’ll give it back when things get tough.” Riley babbled in the background. “Patrick and I rarely argue, but when we do it’s short-lived. When you love someone you want to work it out. Whatever it takes.”

“I’m not good at conflict.”

“Yeah. You run away and hide behind closed doors, then sweep it under the rug.”

“You make me sound so desirable.”

“We all have our cobwebs.”

“There’s this other guy though. I met him when I was at the beach for senior week years ago. I know, I know, but it was actually really sweet. We stayed up all night talking in the lifeguard chair and kissed as the sun rose. He’s even British. You know how I love a nice accent.”

“Don’t get all Ella on me.”

I laughed. “Anyway, he contacted me. Wants to meet.”