Stolen (28 page)

“Hey, baby,” he responds. I had forgotten just how
deep his voice was. How his voice alone can make my insides quiver.

“Hi.” I repeat. Real smooth I know, but that look
along with that voice could make any girl forget the English language or how to
use it.

“Hey,” he repeats. Maybe I’m not the only one
affected.

“Okay, on that note, I’ll leave you two alone,” mom
says. I had forgotten she was in here with us.

With the two of us alone I don’t know what to do. I
can’t speak, and yet there’s so much I want to say. I can’t move, and yet I
can’t endure the distance between us much longer.

Taking control, Rogan takes the first step, moving
toward me deftly and with purpose. With only inches between us he asks if he
can hug me.
Can you hug me? Of course you can hug me!
My inner self
screams, but what comes out is an eloquent, “huh, uh.”

Smiling, he pulls me in for the best hug I’ve received
in what feels like a lifetime. Maybe it has been, a lifetime I created, but a
lifetime nonetheless. “I missed this so much.” I confess as I breathe him in.

“Me, too. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,”
he states. “I wanted to visit you in the hospital after I heard you had woken
up, but the doctors thought it might be too much for you to handle. Knowing you
were awake, knowing I could hug you like this, kiss you like I’ve been dying to
kiss you, but not being able to has been excruciating.”

“You didn’t visit me in the hospital after I woke up?”
I ask, confused even though I shouldn’t be based on what Bruce told me last
night. I thought for sure that Rogan visiting me was real, though.

“I wanted to, baby, believe me I did, but I didn’t
want to upset you. Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not, I’m just having some trouble figuring
out what is real versus not real. I thought you had come to see me, I remember
it so vividly, but I guess it was just another part of the old reality. I’m
sorry. I know this must sound nuts to you.” I’m so embarrassed that I let him
into my twisted, demented thoughts by confessing this to him.

“It doesn’t sound nuts, but unfortunately it isn’t
true. I’m here now, though, and I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

Soon we’re rocking side to side just like we used to
do. Oh, how I’ve missed this.

“I have something I want to talk to you about,” he
says after a while.

I don’t want to pull away, but I do want to see his
face. I want to look at him in case this isn’t real, in case this is the other
life and I end up back in the hellish world where there is no Rogan.

“Okay,” I say after pulling away.

“Let’s sit down,” he says. “So, I don’t know how much
you remember about anything before the accident.” That’s cute that he calls it
an accident. I suppose stating that your girlfriend tried to commit suicide,
and would have succeeded had it not been for a persistent man who just wouldn’t
let her go, is a bit hard to stomach. “But we were supposed to be celebrating
our anniversary in a couple of weeks after the—the . . .”

“Funeral.” I finish for him. “It’s okay to say it. I’m
getting better at saying it, too, so don’t feel like you have to avoid it
because of me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you by talking about that,” he
says softly.

“I appreciate that, Rogan, but I can’t have everyone
treating me like a loon, otherwise I’ll always feel like one. Just be yourself,
and hopefully I’ll be back to being myself soon enough.”

“I can get that, and I’ll do my best, if you do
something for me in return,” he says with mischief in his eyes.

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t ever call me by my name again! I feel like I’m
in trouble,” he says while faking a shiver.

Laughing, I say, “I’m sorry. Like I just said, though,
you have to give me time to get back to being myself. I went what I thought was
a very long time not seeing you, thinking you were out of my life forever, only
to find out you’ve been here all along.

“Things were different for me where I was and saying
your name aloud was hard enough, so saying something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’
just wasn’t possible, but
baby
I’ll get better, I promise you I will.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll be patient so long as
you tell me you at least still want me.” He’s joking, but I can see the fear in
his eyes. How could he ever doubt that I’d want to be with him?

Taking his hand in mine I pour my heart out to him,
hoping it will be enough to calm his nerves. “I’ll never not want you. I’ve
deprived myself of you because in another world I thought I was protecting you,
but that never curbed my craving for you. You were in my thoughts and my
dreams, and not a day went by that I didn’t miss you or wish I could be with
you. I love you, I’ll always love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

“I wish I could have taken the pain away. I wish I’d
known just how much pain you were in, but you didn’t let me in. I really hope
you’ll let me in if you’re ever in a place like that again. I’m here for you,
and I always will be.”

His words make me want to cry, but I can’t cry, I
spent so much time crying or rather I feel like I spent a lot of time crying,
in any case I don’t want to make it a habit to cry over every little thing that
happens to me, even if it’s over sweet words by my sweet Rogan. No, not even
then.

“No one could’ve done anything for me, I guess it was
just something I had to go through on my own, but I’m feeling better. Bruce
explained everything to me which helped, and hopefully soon I’ll be able to accept
it for what it was—my way of coping.”

“Just promise me you’ll let me in if you feel yourself
going down that road again. I can’t bear to be without you another day.”

“I promise.” And I do promise because I never want to
go to that world again. I never want to be without Rogan again.

“Okay, so enough with the heavy.” He begins again. “I
wanted to ask if you would want to celebrate our eighteen month anniversary
with me this Saturday night?”

“Our eighteen month anniversary? Who celebrates an
eighteen month anniversary?” I ask confused.

“We do,” he says as if it’s so obvious, “and anyone
who misses their one year anniversary.”

“With that kind of argument who am I to say no. What
are we doing on this eighteen month anniversary?” I ask while trying to stifle
a laugh.

“I thought I’d see if there was anything special you’d
want to do before I planned something, and despite you laughing at me I think
I’ll be nice and stick with that idea. So, is there anything you want to do?”

I’d forgotten about how great our anniversary had been
. . . or not been. This is getting ridiculous. Has been, hasn’t been, you get
the idea. 

“You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?” He
interrupts my thoughts of an anniversary night that never happened.

“You’re going to laugh at me if I tell you.” I
confess.

“What? I’d never laugh at anything that made you smile
like you were just smiling. Whatever it was had to be good.”

“It was,” I say almost dreamily, but it was a dream,
so why shouldn’t I say it dreamily? “Wherever my mind was, you and I did
celebrate our one year anniversary. You took me to this French restaurant
outside of town, then you took me to . . .” Stopping mid-sentence I feel my
face flush with heat at the thought of where we went that night, and what we
did.

“Anything that’s making you blush that much must mean
it was a great night,” he says playfully.

“Shut up!” My only comeback.

“No way! Not until you tell me what made you blush
like that.” He presses.

“Ugh! You took us somewhere that was really sweet and
really romantic and that’s all you need to know.” I can only hope that is
enough to squash his curiosity.

“That sounds like me, sweet and romantic, now why
don’t you tell me what made me so sweet and romantic?”

So much for hoping.

“I’m not telling you. If what I remember happening,
happens, then it happens, but if something different happens, then I don’t want
to ruin the possibility of a different memory forming. I also don’t want to
force something to happen that might not be meant to happen or at least to happen
in that way. Does that make sense?”

“It does. It also makes sense that since you’re
blushing and rambling it must have something to do with you know what,” he says
suggestively.

“I don’t know what ‘you know what’ means, so let’s
move on.” The flush I felt on my face has spread across my body. Talking about
that night is stirring something inside me, something I need to calm down if I
want to make it through this conversation without combusting.

“Uh huh.” I know he’s not going to let this go
forever, but at least for now he seems willing to go easy on me. “So, a French
restaurant, huh? I was pretty suave in this other world, wasn’t I?” He jokes.

“I guess you were alright,” I say nonchalantly.

“Yeah, right. With a face that red, and a smile that
goofy, I was totally suave, and you know it. Don’t deny it, babe. Seriously,
though, I want to do whatever makes you happy, whatever makes you smile,
whatever it takes, I’ll do, because I love you and I want you to be happy. I
want to be the one who makes you happy.”

I can’t take it anymore, being this close, but our
lips not touching. “Rogan, kiss me. That will make me happy.” I reveal.

And he does. He kisses me like it’s been three years
or maybe just six months, all I know is it’s been too long, too long wanting to
be together, but not too long to drive us apart. Rogan and me are forever. Call
it young love, call it blind love, call it crazy, stupid love, just don’t ever
say it isn’t true love.

I lost six months of my life because of the loss of my
sister, six months I’ll never be able to get back, but I’m alive, and for Cass
I will treasure every day.

I remember a time when I couldn’t breathe, a time when
it felt like a betrayal to breathe, but through therapy, the help of my family
and friends, and especially, Rogan, I’ll get through this. I will heal. I know
now that it wasn’t my fault, that Cass wouldn’t want me to live as if it was,
and that knowledge helps the breaths come easier.

I miss her, and I always will, but I know I have to
move on. I have to accept the past, and be open to a future, a future I can’t
foresee, but a future I deserve to live.

A part of Cass will always be with me, and for her I
will love with all of my heart, laugh without abandon, cry when my heart tells
me to, but mostly I will cherish my memories of her while creating new ones to
tell her about if we should ever meet again.

Life is messy, and sometimes unkind, but I have
learned that life is nothing without love. Love is what can help to get us out
of bed in the morning, make us feel safe when we tuck ourselves in at night.
It’s what makes bad days bearable and good days great. Love is what brought me
back from the precipice I’d thrown myself over, the hell I’d felt I deserved. I
was never truly alone because I was always loved, and because of that love I
found strength, because of that love I am here.

Three years later
. . .

It’s been three years since my breakdown, three years
since the death of my sister, and three years since I turned my life around.
It’s been hard to get to where I’m at, but worth every hardship I had to
overcome, every hurdle I had to jump.

I worked my ass off through summer school so I could
graduate with the rest of my class, but I can’t say I did it on my own. Rogan
has been my rock through most of it, with the love and support of mom and Bruce
to help along the way, of course, but I couldn’t have done it without Rogan. I
thought I loved him in high school, but as it turns out there is such a thing
as young love, a love that isn’t fully capable of understanding what it means
to be in love, to test the limits of that love.

It wasn’t always easy for Rogan to be with me, I know
and understand that, but he never left my side, through the nightmares about my
other life, the nightmares about Cass’s death, the realization that I lost six
months of my life because I was under so much stress my body didn’t know what
to do with it all. He stayed by my side, and for that, and for so much more
than can be said with words, I love him more now than when I was sixteen. Our
young love has morphed into forever love, love we are going to make official at
our wedding this August.

There had never been a question in my mind that I
would be with Rogan forever, even when I thought that wouldn’t be possible I
knew there would never be someone I’d love as much as him, someone I’d love
enough to marry, but now that I have him, I’m never letting go.

He proposed at our favorite French restaurant on our
thirty month anniversary. We celebrate every six months now, because why not?
After I told him about that part of my other life it has become a ritual to
drive home for every anniversary to celebrate at our restaurant, and weather
permitting, our place beneath the stars. He managed to get that out of me, too,
on the night of our eighteen month anniversary, and let me say, it was even
better than I thought I remembered it being.

Bruce had been a staple figure in my other life, as it
would turn out he had been pretty important to my mom in this life while I was
in my coma. I found out they had started seeing each other shortly after I had
my breakdown. It was a little weird at first, but now it just makes sense. I
like having him around, and since Rogan and me are away at college it’s nice to
know someone is there to take care of mom and look after her when I can’t.

I knew as soon as Rogan proposed
, t
hat
I wanted Bruce to walk me down the aisle. When I asked Bruce, he stuttered over
his words until mom jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow to snap him out of
his speechlessness, before nodding his acceptance at my request. He pulled me
into a loose, one arm hug, and grunted something about being proud of me and
loving me like a daughter. I had to bite back the tears that threatened to
spill over his confession, luckily mom knows how much I hate crying anymore so
she changed the subject to food and a cookout and all was once again right with
our world.

The day Cass died, a small piece of me died with her.
My life changed in ways I didn’t understand at the time, barely understand now,
but everything I went through has made me a stronger person. I miss her every
day, but I’ve learned that it’s okay to miss her so long as I don’t get lost in
the grief.

I’d once commented that I had a stalker who had stolen
everything that meant anything to me, from me. As it would turn out, I had
stolen it from myself. The funny thing about things that are stolen, though, is
that they can be returned. I have my life back. I may not have Cass, but I have
my Rogan, mom, my friends, and Bruce. I have more love than I know what to do
with, and for that I will always take deep breaths and thank the Cosmos.