Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (15 page)

I do my best not to think about anything much in the days after my dad's departure, except the thing I'm doing right that minute. It's like the yoga teachings, be in the moment, not in the past, not in the future. And I take it quite literally. Especially since Spring Break just started and I should be with Scott on a beach somewhere. We both deserved it, after all the stuff we went through.
 

But I'm alone here and he's somewhere else and it hurts. At least Phillipa stayed in Connecticut. Though her and Holly have been getting together more and more often these past few weeks, so I'm home alone most of the time. Leo calls from time to time, but I keep those conversations short. I haven't spoken to Kate since her party.
 

The schoolwork helps, and the yoga does too. I quit
 
dance class and the book club. It was ambitious to think I could fit all that into my schedule anyway. Now, if only the dreams would go away, then I'd be all set to bury myself in my work, and not look for anything else.
 

Lately the dreams all start the same, with me and Scott somewhere nice, pleasant, like the beach at sunset, a sunlit meadow. But then darkness comes and separates us, sends waves crashing, terrible winds bending trees and the pain is like someone's ripping out my heart. Last night was the worst. It started in a bad place, some sort of ancient abandoned house, and just kept getting worse. I couldn't find Scott in any of the rooms, but I knew I had to, knew he was in trouble, that he needed me. Then the walls started caving in, and I found him just as the earth shook and buried him in rubble. I forced myself to wake then, sat in bed breathing hard, watching dawn break, convincing myself it was just a dream, trying to forget the pain of losing him all over again.
 

The sun's up now, and it feels like I woke up hours ago. What if I can't do this? What if I never get over Scott?

But it's just more of the silliness, and I'll be fine as soon as I get up, so that's what I do. I'm moving on. I've moved on. Even the dreams are telling me it's over. I'm just a little shaky because my gran is pretty much all the family I have left in this country. I should visit her today. I haven't been in ages.
 

When Scott and me first moved in together I went to see her a few times. Alone, because Scott never wanted to come with me.
 

The house is quiet, but Phillipa’s car is in the driveway. I make as little noise as I can while getting ready. It's a sunny day today, I can take Gran out for lunch, make a day of it.

I call her at nine, and she's a little distant, letting me know it's been too long, but I don't call her on it, and she doesn't say it outright.

The sun is blindingly bright when I pull into the parking lot of the retirement home, but it's only warm in direct sunlight. In the shade it's still clammy and cold.

I find her in one of the matching armchairs by the window, wrapped in her light grey cashmere cardigan. The color makes her cheeks looks pale and sallow.

"You ready to go?" I ask, kissing her on the cheek, surprised, as always, at how papery and soft her skin is.

"I suppose," she mutters.

"Or we can stay here, if you prefer," I say cheerfully. I don't want any bad mood. I want us to have a good time together.
 

She looks at my smile with a bemused expression, but the edges of her lips are already curling upwards.
 

"So you think to make it all up to me by taking me out?" she says, making my heart sink and my smile wane. She isn't going to make this easy. I should've come sooner.

"I'd love to get out of this place for an afternoon," she goes on and chuckles, extending her arm toward me. "Help me up, so we can go."
 

It takes at least twenty minutes to get to the car. There's color in her cheeks by the time we do, and she's breathing heavily. A cold panic grips my chest like I've just swallowed a fistful of jagged ice. My gran is old and sick, she doesn’t have a lot of time in front of her. And I keep missing what little there is left by feeling sorry for myself.

There's steel in my heart as I pull out of the parking lot. I've spent too much time thinking just of myself these last few months, a year almost. It's time for that to stop.
 

I name a few places to eat, but in the end she suggests the small cafe by a lake near the cottage my grandfather liked so much.

There are few families feeding the swans and the ducks in the lake, but we're the only two people sitting outside at the cafe. I wrap one of the checkered blankets around Gran's shoulders, because it's chilly even though we're sitting in the sun.

She gets a strawberry pie and I have a chocolate cake.

"Are you happy?" she asks suddenly, and the shock makes me swallow a piece of cake without actually chewing it. I chase it down with a long gulp of water.

"I don't know. Sometimes," I answer. It's easier than saying no, but I can't lie any worse than that. Lately the only happiness I felt was over getting a good grade, or when I managed to get all the dirt and grime off my mom's bracelet using toothpaste and baking soda.
 

"That's all happiness is, really. Just moments," she says, gazing at a small boy tossing bread to the ducks. He's eating more than he's giving the birds, his grandmother chiding him for it loudly.
 

"I guess." I always thought of happiness as a permanent state with moments of sadness, anger and other unpleasant things mixed in. Happiness was me and Scott living together, getting past all the bad and starting a future. Since he left it's mostly been sadness and numbness, some anger, little happiness.

"We used to come here with your grandfather when you were small," Gran says. "Do you remember?"

I don't, but I nod anyway. I've seen the pictures of me splashing around in the lake, or feeding a swan, but I don't actually remember it.

She turns to me and places a hand over mine. It's cold as stone. "Don't worry so much, Gail. You will find your way. You're strong and determined."

For the second time, I'm gasping for breath. Where is this coming from? I thought I was hiding it all so well.

"I'm not so sure," I whisper, surprised to hear myself speak. Tears are welling in my eyes, cooling in the cold air. I could talk about all this with my mom, but wishing for it just brought guilt, so I didn't.
 

Gran squeezes my hand and smiles. "You will. I have no doubt. Whatever is troubling you now will all just be a distant memory this time next year. Losing your mother was hard. Possibly the hardest thing you will ever go through. But it's also a right of passage, and it will make you even stronger."

"And losing the love of my life on top of that?" I ask before I can stop myself.

All the sadness and pain, longing and homesickness are a torrent inside me, wiping out all trace of any remaining happiness. My tears are flowing thick and hot now.
 

She smiles sadly and pats my cheek, wiping my tears away with a shaky hand. "You see it that way now, but that will soon be a distant memory too. And then you'll only remember the good."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm eighty-four years old and I've lived through it all," she says and smiles. "So just trust me."

I nod and wipe my eyes on a napkin. "I guess I better."

"I say it lightly, but I know it’s not easy letting someone go," she says. "But one morning you'll wake up and the pain will be gone."

I'm glad for this web of understanding that's woven itself around us, forming a warmth of belonging one can really only feel with family. Whatever else happens, I have this, have had this, and I will never forget. She's right, happiness really is just moments, and right now my heart is bursting from it.

It's getting dark by the time I drop her off at the retirement home, promising I'll come back soon.

Waking up happens in disconnected jolts of pain coming in quick succession, until my whole body feels like it's breaking. My head throbs, the pain in my cheek radiating into the back of my head, and my stomach feels like an open wound. I manage to sit up halfway, before a sharp pain in my side makes me drop back down. The ceiling seems to be shaking now, and the light's so bright it's like knives slicing into my brain.

"How do you feel?" Greg asks, and I squint in the direction of his voice. He's standing near the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. Judging by the angle of the sun it's just after dawn.

"Like I've been hit by a bus," I mutter and try to sit up again, regretting it instantly as a sharp pain pierces my side.
 

Greg walks over and sits on the armrest of the sofa. "Anything broken?"

"Yeah everything, I think" I say. The smell of his coffee is making me nauseous.
 

"You should take it easy for awhile," he says. "What the hell happened anyway?"

"I got jumped," I mutter. The thought that it might happen never even occurred to me. But I guess it should have. Louie was right, I got no one watching my back anymore.

"Lucky that I was there," Greg says.

"Yeah." I should thank him, or something. But I'm not sure he did me a favor. If they'd killed me, then this fucking nightmare that's my life now would be over.
 

"Well, seeing as you're up and relatively well, I should go," Greg says and gets up. "We'll need a replacement for the job."

"What?" I manage, my mind still stuck in wishing the outcome was different.

"You're in no state to steal cars," he explains. "Someone else will have to take your place."

I struggle to sit up again, and judging by Greg's cringe it must look as painful as it feels. "Don't tell Mike what happened."

"You don't wanna get back at those assholes?" he asks, sitting down on the armrest of the sofa.
 

"I don't want Mike to do it," I say. "I'll tell him I was in a car accident or something."

Greg laughs. "Wouldn't that call your driving skills into question?"

"I'll say I swerved to avoid hitting a cat. He'll believe that."

"You and your brother still working things out then?"

“Always.” I consider getting up all the way, since I really need to piss. But unceasing pain is still radiating through my body, so maybe I shouldn't move just yet.
 

"Or I'll say I got hit by a car, while trying to save a cat. He'll buy that."
 

I'm talking to myself, and I should stop.

Greg gets up again, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket. Andrew's little Buddha keychain gleams in the light. "I can take these and bring your car over later."

I squint up at him, wondering if I should start to trust him. Why not? If I'm in, I'm in. And he did probably save my life last night.

"If it's not too much trouble."

He shrugs and pockets the keys again. "No problem. I'll call you."

After he's gone, I somehow manage to get to the bathroom, even find some painkillers in the bottom of my suitcase. But they're the weak ones, and barely take the edge off the pain.
 

I can't get back to sleep, I can't move much and I can't watch TV, since the noise makes my head hurt even worse. I mute it, but even the flashing images are too much. So I spend the rest of the day staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows lengthen, wondering if I'd ever be able to draw any of them just as they are, or if they'd always look fake and artificial.
 

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the phone ringing wakes me, bringing with it all the various sharp and dull pains. My head feels like it's cracked open. The phone stops ringing by the time I manage to stumble to it. But it's not Gail. It's Janine. I've been avoiding her calls since I broke it off with Gail, and she's been calling almost daily now.
 

I call her back now. Not because I want to talk to her, but because maybe I should. Keeping it all inside has me going insane. If I just keep rolling this over in my head, I'll do something stupid. I proved that last night by not fighting back. Next time I might just do something worse.