Living With Regret (13 page)

“If anyone can do it, you can. I’m going to do whatever I have to in order to make sure you find it, even if I have to give it to you. I’d give you the whole fucking world if I could.”

His words steal my breath away because I think he might be the only person left on Earth who wants to give me the world. “Thank you for being here. Everyone else treats me like I have a contagious disease or something. Madison doesn’t even come around anymore.”

Sam is surprisingly quiet. I expected him to tell me she’ll come around, but he doesn’t. Maybe he knows I’m fighting a battle with my old friends that I’ll never be able to win. Maybe he knows some of the friendships I had in high school were as real as the many silk flowers that decorate the cemetery.

“Do you want something to drink?” he finally asks, sitting up next to the small cooler he’d brought out with him.

“What do you have?”

“Water and Bud Light.”

“I’ll take a water. Thank you.” A couple months ago I would have enjoyed a cold beer on a warm summer night like tonight. I don’t know if I’ll ever touch alcohol again for as long as I live.

He hands me a cold water and holds up a can of beer. “You don’t care if I have one of these, do you?”

“You’re twenty-three years old. You can do whatever you want.”

“I just don’t want to upset you.”

“As long as you don’t drive home, you’re fine.”

He pops the tab off his beer, then everything goes quiet again. For some reason, his silence bothers me tonight.

“Sam, what did you do after high school? I mean … we lost touch, and I feel like there’s a part of you I know nothing about.” I hate myself for letting it happen, but it was either him or Cory. Neither of them was going to let me have the other.

He lies back beside me, one hand wrapped around his beer can and the other resting on his flat stomach. “I’ve been running the shop full-time, and when the opportunity comes, I meet up with a couple of guys at the bar.” His warm breath tickles my cheek, sending a prickle down my spine. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve missed the closeness of someone else so much or if it’s him. “Honestly, it fucking sucks. Everyone should have a purpose … I don’t know what mine is yet.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

His finger brushes my cheekbone, his eyes lifting to get a better look into mine. “I’m glad you’re here, too. I just wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Me too,” I whisper, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. The way he stares at me makes me uneasy. It’s too much—too intimate for the place I’m at in life. If it weren’t for the accident, Sam and I would still be living like strangers. It’s sad to think about it.

Pushing up to a sitting position, I twist the cap off my water and take a long drink. Most girls would dream about this kind of night with a guy like Sam, but I don’t deserve to be that girl. I wouldn’t be ready to be that girl even if I felt like I deserved it. I’m too closed off inside to let anyone in, especially in the way Sam deserves.

“I should probably walk back home.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

I shake my head, even though I know he can’t see me well in the darkness. “I need some time to clear my head.”

“Rachel—”

“I’ll text you when I get home ... I promise.”

He sighs deeply, running his fingers through his mussed-up blond hair. “If I don’t hear from you in the next twenty minutes, I’m coming to check on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I say, standing and stretching my arms up above my head. It was over ninety degrees today, but since the sun has gone down, it’s been tolerable.

“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” he asks, standing beside me. His hand comes to rest on my hip, lightly brushing the exposed skin between my shorts and shirt. My skin is warm, but his touch still feels hot against it. It would be so easy for him to pull me to him. So easy.

“I’ll call you,” I reply, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear.

Under the faint moonlight, I see a half-smile touch his lips. Relief … I’ve seen it a few times before. “You better,” he says, letting go of me.

Without another word, I turn and walk down the path that leads back to my house. The corn is getting higher by the day, but I’m still able to see over the top. I still hear the crickets, but other than that, the night is quiet.

It gives me time to think, to reflect on the last couple months … tonight especially. Sam is literally everything I need, and everything I shouldn’t have. The way he always finds a way to touch me—the way my body reacts to it—is confusing the hell out of me. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s not conscious. I don’t want to like Sam in that way. Maybe it’s just my loneliness begging me to let him in. Whatever it is, it’s making me crazy.

Someday, I’m going to wake up with a clearer vision and conscience. It’s just not happening today or tomorrow, but it has to happen sometime, or the rest of my life will be pointless. A life without hope is a life without purpose. I need hope.

As I approach the spot where my yard meets the cornfield, my eyes are drawn to the tall light next to the old red barn. It’s been there all my life, but something about it stops me in my tracks tonight. A strange, yet terrifying scene plays out, almost like it’s happening right in front of me.

Glancing around the unfamiliar field, I see the light of the fire up ahead. Instead of running to it, I run away. Fast, like I’m trying to get away from something or someone. My body is filled—no, more like consumed—with panic and sadness. I have no idea why, but I feel it deep within my bones. A painful ache.

I hear my name. I recognize the voice as Cory’s, but instead of stopping, I run faster. My cheeks are wet, and my hands are shaking. My feet are scratched up from stepping on the short cornstalks with only flip-flops on my feet, but I want to get away.

What I don’t understand is why I’m intent on getting away from Cory. Why would I run from the one person I want to run to?

Shaking my head, I try to chase the scene from my mind. I want to think it was nothing but a terrifying daydream, but I was wearing the same outfit I remember wearing the last day of school. And it felt so real, like I was reliving a memory. I just wish I knew what it all meant. I wish to God that I knew why I’d run from Cory.

I hope it’s not real. I hope it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

August 3, 2013

THERE ARE TIMES IN
life where I've felt like I'm standing above everything, watching it all go by, but then there are times when life has completely run me over. It's come at me too fast, not giving me time to think. Sometimes great things come from it, but sometimes, it comes through like a tornado, leaving a pile of rubble in its wake.

That's where I'm standing now, in the midst of the rubble that the accident has left behind. I need to figure out how I’m going to pick up the pieces, and where my life goes from here. All I know is I don't have the energy to rebuild just yet. It's something only time can put back together.

Until I get to that point, I'm going to do my best to step over anything that gets in my way. And it never hurts to have someone holding your hand when you have obstacles to cross ... that’s what Sam’s done for me. He’s been there for me while others I thought I was close to left me behind. I guess the only way to know if you have a true friendship is to see if it still exists after it’s been tested.

Sam has this idea that I should join him in his woodworking shop for a few hours to relax. My first thought was no way, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that just being with him would make me feel better. He makes life somewhat normal for me.

When I woke up this morning, I felt excitement that I hadn't felt in days. Life's nothing but a dark hole when you don't have anything to look forward to, but today I see a little bit of light for the first time in a few weeks. Since the last night Sam and I spent in the fields, I’ve been feeling out of sorts. Mostly because of the vision I had on the way back to my house. Was it a piece of the truth I’d been working so hard to remember? Whatever it was, I haven’t been able to let it go. I think about it first thing every morning and again every night before bed … I hate it.

I crawl out of bed and make my way to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a navy blue tank top. I wash my face and layer on some moisturizer, deciding there's no point in putting on make-up, and tie my hair into a knot.

I quietly make my way down the stairs, hoping to make it out the door without a barrage of questions from my mom. I love the woman and everything she does for me, but her constant inquisition in regards to Sam pisses me off. I don't need anything to tarnish my lighter mood today. I carefully make my way into the kitchen to grab the muffins I made last night and slip onto the back porch to put on my shoes.

“Where are you off to so early?” It's not Mom this time. It's after eight, and for the first time since I can remember, Dad’s still home, wearing jeans and a Southern Iowa T-shirt. Something is very wrong with this picture.

“I'm going to help a friend,” I say, looking down at my tattered shoelaces. I just want to get outside … to Sam.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

This is going to be worse than Mom's interrogations. My dad has a hard time remembering when he's not in the courtroom. He forgets that we're not all part of a case he's trying in front of a judge and jury. “I need to get out of the house, so a friend offered to take me to work with him today, to help out.”

Looking up, I plead with my eyes for him to just walk away. Dad never does anything other than what he wants to do, though, so it's not a surprise when he crosses his arms over his chest and takes another step toward me. “I'm moving things around in the office today so my new intern has room. Why don't you help?”

“Daddy, I can't. I've already committed to something else.”

He nods and smiles softly. It's a rare occasion. “You've always been one to keep your word. I guess I have to respect that.”

Just as he's about to walk away, a familiar, extremely loud engine starts up the driveway. Dad steps to the kitchen window and then looks back at me, his cheeks bright red. “What the hell are you doing, Rachel?”

I flinch, wondering why things can't be easy for just a day. Why couldn't they allow me a day tucked away without a worry in the world? I guess I'm not meant to make it anywhere without a struggle. “He's just a friend.”

“I'm sure you can find someone better to hang out with than the Shea boy.”

“There's nothing wrong with Sam. In fact, he's the only person who's not treating me like a virus.”

“No one's treating you like a virus, Rachel!” His voice rises as he throws his arms up in the air. “We're just worried about you.”

I stand, watching out the window as Sam opens his car door and starts up the narrow sidewalk. This isn't going to end well.

When I don't reply, he starts in on me again. I do my best to listen, to actually hear what he's saying, but I'm too lost in what's going to happen when my dad and Sam collide. “When you make decisions, you need to do it with your future in mind. I know you think I worry too much about what other people think, but when you live in a town as small as this, sometimes that's all that matters.”

“And would you mind telling me what Sam did to end up on the town trash list? Because I must have missed it.”

Dad opens his mouth but is interrupted by a knock at the front door. I'm half expecting him to turn and try to beat me to it, but he surprises me by pushing past me and walking out the back door. It's the last thing I expected out of him; he never backs away from a battle.

Taking a deep breath, I grab my muffins off the counter and head to the front door, opening it just as Sam's about to knock again.

“Hey,” he says, looking at me warily. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little morning chat with my Dad. You know how that goes,” I reply, waiting for him to step back so that I can close the door behind me. As soon as he does, I make my way down the steps as quickly as possible. We need to get out of here before anyone else pours vinegar on my morning … the only thing that would make the start to this day worse is if my mom walked out the front door to finish what my dad started.

As my fingers curl against the handle of the passenger door, Sam’s hand comes to rest along the top of the car, stopping me in my place. “The whole reason I'm taking you to work today is to have some fun, so whatever you have going on … leave it here.”

“Once we get there, I'll be fine. I just need to be anywhere but here.”

He removes his hand from the car, running the back of his finger along my jawline. “What did he say that's got you so upset?”

“Let's just leave that one alone.” It would probably be no surprise to him that my dad's not going to jump on the Sam train, but something about admitting it seems off to me.

“It was about me, wasn’t it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Maybe,” I say quietly, staring down at his brown work boots. He’s still caressing my cheek; it’s soothing yet distracting. I want him to stop, but then I don’t.