Pictures of You (30 page)

             
“In LA we practically lived on the beach. We checked out the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the Walmart of music stores, Amoeba and ate the best veggie burgers in the world. We went to the Getty museum and to the Santa Monica Pier and to Disneyland.”

             
“Sounds fun.”

             
“We fought a little, of course, plus we got some food poisoning from this hole-in-the-wall diner in Texas, but other than that, the trip couldn’t have been more perfect. I never, in a million years, would’ve guessed she’d never be coming home, though. I guess I’m glad things ended on such a perfect note.” I sighed. “I only wish we had more time together.”

             
“Do you hate the guy who killed Abby?” he asked, his hands moving to my tight shoulders.

             
“I used to. But I’ve had some time to think about it and I’m pretty sure now that he—whoever he was—didn’t do it intentionally.” His hands dug deeper, softening the knots. “Ouch!”

             
“I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?”

             
“It hurts but it’s a good hurt. Keep going. Ahhh, you are spoiling me…”

             
“You were saying?”

             
“People are basically good, right? I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. You don’t know what was going through his head. He could’ve just—”

             
“But he just took off. Left you and Abby for dead. The coward didn’t even stop to see if you were okay.”

             
“I’m sure there was a reason for all of it. And maybe the guy
was
a total jerk. Or maybe it was an honest mistake. A horrible, awful, but honest mistake. Who knows? I’m not going to let it make me bitter anymore. I refuse to let it ruin my life. I chose to forgive him. It wasn’t easy. Those books Chris lent me have helped a lot. Rose, my therapist, is helping me with it, too. It’s a lot of work, forgiveness. It takes time. For some people, years. I can’t say I’m one-hundred-percent there, but I’m getting there.”

             
“How can you forgive someone you’ve never met?”

             
“I chose forgiveness for
myself
. Forgiving the guy who hit us…it isn’t saying what he did was okay. Forgiving him, whoever he was, whether he deserves forgiveness or not, is about liberating myself. It’s a gift you give yourself. I wasn’t going to let this anger—this hate—eat me alive. Life is a gift. I know that now. Even the accident, as tragic as it was, was a gift in a weird way. I’ve never appreciated anything the way I do now. I don’t take things for granted anymore. I don’t take the people I love for granted. The accident—it woke me up. And,” I took a deep breath, “I’m stronger now. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I believe that. Do you?”

             
He paused. “I don’t know if I do. Everything I’ve been through—it’s killing me. Little by little.”

             
I hesitated. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

             
He answered with a bitter laugh. I decided it would be better not to push my luck. There was a long pause. As he kneaded my back and shoulders, we listened to Mary humming and making herself a late-morning breakfast—a Pop-Tart wrapper being ripped open, eggs sizzling in a hot pan.

             
Adrien pulled me up onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my face against his shoulder. I was surprised by what he said next. “September, I’m sorry.”

             
I pulled away a little to make eye-contact. “For what?”

             
“That you had to go through all this. You’ve suffered so much. If there was a way I could make this all go away, I would. If I could take the pain away, I would,” he said, his face tightening.

             
I laughed. “It’s not your fault. And anyway, I’m okay now. I’ll always miss her…but I’m okay now. I wish
I
could take
your
pain away,” I said, gazing into his lovely eyes.

              His lips turned up slightly before brushing my neck. “First kiss?”

             
“Zach Larson, second grade.”

             
“First
real
kiss?”

             
“Hmmm. Mart Beesley, tenth grade.”

             
“Your favorite...thing about me?” He tightened his grip around me.

             
“Okay, this will take a minute,” I said, pretending to concentrate.

             
He laughed. “Don’t strain yourself.”

             
After teasing him long enough, I finally said, “I love that you’re a writer. A good one, too. I love how generous and thoughtful you are. I love your laugh. I love that you’ve made it this far after all you’ve been through, that you’ve chosen not to give up.” I paused before adding, “And I love the way you look at me.”

             
Adrien pressed his mouth against my temple. “Thank you. We should definitely play this game
every
day. Um…First impression of me?”

             
“I thought you were intriguing. Very moody. And incredibly good looking,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn a little.

             
“You think I’m incredibly good looking, huh? Tell me more about that,” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

             
“Don’t even get me started. Do you have any idea how
gorgeous
you are? First of all, your eyes are
amazing
. Then there’s your jaw. And I’ve always had a thing for your hands.”

             
“My hands?” He laughed, clearly amused.

             
“Your hands make me crazy,” I confessed. “I noticed them the first day we met.”

             
“You’re an odd duck. Want to know my favorite parts of you?” I nodded. “Your big brown eyes, your soft, full lips and your…” His eyes trailed down my body, “And your…ears.”

             
I smacked him playfully in the arm. “You and I both know it’s not my ears.”

             
He threw me a sexy grin.

             
Mary, with a plate full of steaming scrambled eggs and chocolate Pop-Tarts in one hand and her giant mug of coffee in the other, plopped down on the couch. She turned to Adrien and me and said, “Did you know that more people are killed by toaster ovens than by roller coasters?”

***

              “You look amazing,” Adrien said, eyeing me up and down. “Your ex-boyfriend’s going to be having some serious second thoughts tonight.”

             
“I hope so. Not that I’d want him back. You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, smiling at his olive green sweater. He’d left earlier to shower and change. His hair was neatly combed for once. He handed me a cheerful bouquet of yellow daisies.

             
“For me? Thank you. You’re too good to me,” I said, wondering why he was spoiling me so much today. John had never given me neck rubs or flowers.

             
“Don’t say that,” he said, his eyes sad for a moment.

             
“You treated me like a queen today,” I argued.

             
“I’ve put you through a lot these past two weeks,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it. “For which I can’t say I’m sorry enough. Ready to blow this joint?”

             
I took a deep breath, feeling a nervous energy mounting inside me. I hoped tonight would go smoothly, seeing John and April together, introducing Adrien—my
boyfriend
—to my family. And I hoped the big secret Adrien would reveal to me later tonight wouldn’t destroy us. I shuddered when I recalled the tortured look on his face when he predicted I would leave him. I shook my head, pushing the image away. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

             
Inside his car, which had a faint scent of oil and sandalwood, the questions continued. “Dream vacation?”

             
“Backpacking Europe.”

             
“That’s something I’ve wanted to do, too,” he turned to me and smiled. I wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking: there was so much we could do together now that he was sticking around. We could cross off everything on both of our bucket lists. “Favorite candy?”

             
“Reese’s Pieces.”

             
“Mmmm. You’re making me hungry.” His expression changed. “Do you think there’s life after death? Do you think you’ll ever see her again?”

             
I knew right away who he was speaking of. “I hope so. I never believed in heaven, in an afterlife, until Abby died. But now I want to at least have a
flicker
of hope that I’ll see her again.”

             
“Tell me more about your family. Starting with your dad.”

             
I laughed. “As I mentioned before, we’re not a very close family. So my dad…What do you want to know?”

             
He glanced over his shoulder before changing lanes. “Anything. Something random.”

             
“Okay, my dad. Let’s see…He likes to clip articles out of the paper. He does it every day. Sort of drove me crazy growing up. That scissors cutting noise and the serious, stern look he’d have on his face. I have no idea what he does with the clippings, or whether he ever rereads them. It drives my mom nuts, too. He used to take April and me to baseball games. Always was a Mets fan. He’d buy us huge, buttery pretzels.”

             
Adrien tapped his horn at someone who cut him off. “And your mom?”

             
“She’s always been a neat-freak. She irons everything—the sheets and her jeans included.” I laughed. “I mean, who irons jeans? Ironically, she loves to play in the dirt. She’s a gardening fanatic. My dad loves it. He’s never had to hire a landscaper and my parents have always had the best looking yard in the neighborhood.”

             
“What about your sister?” he said, sneaking glances at me while still managing to drive carefully. I wondered if he always drove this cautiously, or if he was driving like a grandma for my benefit. After all, I did tell him earlier cars made me nervous since the accident. He stuck to the speed limit religiously now, I noted, probably for that reason.

             
“April is a younger version of my mom, minus the garden worshiping. She’s daddy’s little girl. She and my mother are too much alike. They sort of butt heads. She’s hoping to get into law school—and knowing her, she will. She’s always been everything I wanted to be and then some. Smarter, prettier, more popular. Well, that’s how I felt growing up. Now I kinda like who I am.”

             
“I’ve noticed that about you.”

             
I was surprised. “Noticed what?”

             
“Your sense of self-worth. Few girls your age have it. It’s sexy. And yet you have this vulnerability that drives me crazy. I think the combination of the two—the confidence and vulnerability—is what I love most about you.”

             
“Wow.” It was all I could say. I’d never heard anyone say anything like that to me before.

             
He chuckled. “I can’t wait to meet the fool that gave you up.”

             
“John?” I said, amused by Adrien’s goofy grin.

             
“Any man would have to be an idiot to let
you
go,” he said, his hand brushing my knee. “But lucky for me, he did.”

             
We said nothing for a few minutes, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. I felt relaxed and safe with him which was interesting considering I’d known him for such a short time. I’ve always thought it said something about a relationship: when two people could enjoy each other’s company in silence without filling the gaps in conversation with talk about the weather.

             
Feeling serene, I took comfort in the familiar scent of Adrien’s car as I watched the yellow light of street lamps flicker on his arms and face. The rhythm was hypnotizing. He turned to me and smiled that smile which did crazy things to me. In that moment I forgot all my worries. Everything was perfect. I closed my eyes, absorbing the magic that enveloped us.

30

              “Everyone, I want you to meet my
boyfriend
, Adrien,” I said as we entered the front room, which smelled of potpourri and furniture polish. Mom had redecorated since I’d last been there. Large watercolor paintings of tulips and pansies hung above white leather couches. As usual, the place was immaculate. Even the magazines and coffee table books were neatly stacked. We could hear classical music playing from another room. The second the word “boyfriend” escaped my mouth, which I admit I enjoyed saying maybe more than I should have, my family, who had all stood to greet us, was in silent awe. Finally my grandma giggled in delight. My parents seemed pleasantly surprised. A huge smile crept onto my mother’s face, while my father nodded approvingly. My sister gawked at Adrien in admiration, her mouth hanging open like a hungry pelican. (Where was my camera when I needed it?) Other than the goofy expression, she looked flawless as usual, like a celebrity who just walked out of hair and makeup.