Anywhere With You (16 page)

Amelie

Would it have mattered?

I sat in that restaurant on our final night in Sedona half hoping that Jack would ask me to stay in the U.S. and half hoping he wouldn’t. As I picked at my dinner, I was irritated that my feelings on the matter seemed to change from moment to moment.

When I found out about the transfer to Australia, admittedly, I was intrigued. It meant a change, and to be honest, I was both ready and in deep need of change. At the same time, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not I loved Jack enough to stay. In my mind then, and especially later, it would become a matter of whether or not I loved him enough to go.

During our time together on the road, I came to understand that the two of us were in a holding pattern. Neither of us willing to give an inch—yet still wanting to go the whole mile. And the truth was that no matter how much I loved him, I knew we couldn’t get from here to there. Not with the current state of things.

Still, a part of me liked to believe love could conquer all—that we could make it work—no matter what. I wanted to believe that with a bit of time and space between us—even an entire ocean—that we would come to the conclusion that we couldn’t live without each other. At the same time, I understood that what I wanted for the future and what Jack wanted seemed to be very different things. In addition, given the current state of my life, there was also the understanding that a huge part of me didn’t even know what it was I wanted.

When Jack stepped out to take a phone call, and I picked over my salad, I took the opportunity to think about what it was I really wanted in life. Adventure and change. And I realized that if Jack could promise me those two things, then perhaps our ideals weren’t too far off.

As I waited for him to return, I ran back and forth over the scenario in my head, of the two of us saying goodbye once again. And I questioned whether or not I could really go through with it.

In the end, I decided to let my fate, the fate of the both of us, lie in Jack’s hands. I needed to find out exactly what he had in mind for the immediate future and sitting there in that crowded restaurant, I knew there were really only two ways it could go. If he said he wanted to travel, then I’d stay in the U.S. and try to make a go of the freelance idea that he’d tossed out and see if the two of us could make it work. If nothing else—at least for a little while. But if he said that he was ready to settle down, then I’d go to Australia—putting as much distance between conventionalism and myself as I possibly could. Enough that I could forget—or at least give it my best shot.

By the time Jack finally arrived back to the table, his dinner was lukewarm at best while my spirit was high. I was hopeful he’d choose me and a life together on the road. I watched him as he took his chair and scooted in. He looked up at me and then down at his food before pushing his plate away. I raised my brow. “Is everything ok?”

He looked up at me once again, and I watched as something that looked a lot like dismay passed across this face. He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m suddenly just not very hungry.”

I pursed my lips. “You want to get out of here?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

That night, when Jack and I had sex, it wasn’t any kind of normal sex—it was pure, uninhibited, and animalistic. Basically, we fucked. He didn’t caress me or take his time—it especially wasn’t sweet and slow the way it had been for most of the trip. It was hard and fast, raw and primal. He hadn’t even given me time to close the door to our room before he’d begun removing my dress. I smirked and shrugged at a fellow hotel guest as she eyed me up and down before I kicked the door closed with one heel and let Jack undress me. “I’m going to miss you,” he said. “Better get it all out of our system now…” There was urgency in his words and in his touch that I hadn’t felt with him in a very long time.

“I know you’re upset—” I began, but Jack placed his finger over my lips to silence me.

Then he pushed me backward on the bed, spread my legs, knelt between them, and buried his head into me. And in the process, he made me forget anything and everything I’d wanted to say.

The following morning, I awoke to find Jack propped up on one elbow, laying beside me, his head resting in his palm as he peered down at me.

“Morning,” I said offering a slight smile. I shifted and winced a little in the process, my whole body was sore. It seemed to remember before my mind did. He slid one of his hands beneath the sheets and cupped my left breast.

I inhaled sharply. “You’re going to have to give me a minute. I’m still sore from last night…”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he replied, pursing his lips.

“About that,” I started and then paused. Jack looked away. “I was thinking that maybe you’re right. Maybe I could give the whole freelance thing a go.”

He looked back at me intently. I’d caught him off guard. “You mean not go to Australia?”

I sat up in bed and turned to him. “No, I mean, yeah…well, I was thinking that we could travel a bit… you know, and see where we end up. You could make it work, right? I mean, you could take a break from running your business for a while. Right? You’ve said yourself you have capable staff.”

Jack swallowed and the shook his head. “I can’t.”

My heart sank. “Oh,” I told him before I stood and walked to the bathroom. He followed. I tried to close the door, but he rested his hand against the doorframe.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“I get it,” I said, eyeing his hand. It was a silent request for him to move it, to go away and let me be.

“No, you don’t.”

I didn’t respond, and instead, I turned my attention to his reflection in the mirror and watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. After several seconds, he spoke. “Jane is pregnant.”

My eyes widened and my mouth went dry. I tried to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I know,” he whispered reaching for me. “I’m in shock, too.”

We stayed that way for several minutes, staring at one another in the mirror before I found the words I’d wanted to say. “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”

Jack rubbed at his jaw and then he looked away. Seconds later, he reached for the door handle, gave me one last glance, and then he turned and closed the door behind him.

We drove the fifteen hours it took to get from Sedona to Dallas mostly in uncomfortable silence, both of us realizing that while there might have been things we’d wanted to say, we had passed the point of any of it making any difference. We arrived late, after midnight and checked into a hotel at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport where I was to catch my flight back to Boston the following morning. My plan was to shower and go straight to bed, which I did. But in the early morning hours, unable to sleep, I went down to the coffee shop in the lobby. As I sipped my coffee and browsed the Internet via my phone, out of nowhere a familiar voice interrupted my reverie.

“You just slipped out,” Jack said.

I didn’t look up.

He sat down. “I’m sorry, Amelie. I didn’t plan for this…”

I met his gaze then, his eyes weary.

“Would it have mattered?” I asked, more harshly than I’d intended.

“What do you mean?” he asked the confusion apparent in his voice.

“I just need to know… if she weren’t pregnant—would you have let me go?”

“But she is pregnant.”

My jaw hardened. “I get that. But it wasn’t what I asked you.”

Jack stayed quiet for a long while, shifting his attention to something on the TV in the corner of the room before he spoke, this time without looking at me. “No, I suppose this time I would have found a way to make you stay.”

Jack

One long goodbye.

I learned a lot on that road trip with her. But it wasn’t until the last leg of our trip that I was ready to acknowledge the greatest lesson Amelie, and our time together taught me—which was namely that sometimes in life, things don’t work out quite the way you might have planned. But that doesn’t make the experience of having lived them any less beautiful.

This was what I was thinking sitting there in the hotel as Amelie boarded her flight. I thought about how badly I’d wanted it to work with her. I thought about how I’d always wanted it to work out for us. Yet it never had—and inevitably, no matter how hard the two of us had tried—we never could get it right. I realized then that sometimes love is like that. It’s unpredictable at best—and tough to swallow at worst. Watching her go this time, however, flipped a switch within me. Suddenly, I wanted to do better—to be better. Suddenly, I realized I had no other choice but to embrace what was and make the best of it. And I realized then that every time she’d ever left, it had made me better. I thought back over all of those summers together and how each time I’d grown from the experience of having loved her. I smiled just a little as the realization sunk in that this time would be no different.

As I started my Jeep to head back to Austin, I took one last look at the hotel, and I flashed back to her expression right before she’d walked off toward her flight. I thought about the way her arms felt as she’d given me one last sleepy hug. I recalled the way she’d pulled away and how she’d squeezed me and uttered something to the effect of congratulating me on my impending arrival. That was that, I thought, as I watched her fade into the distance. Mostly, I remembered that, as she walked away, I noted two things. One, this time she hadn’t looked back. And two, no matter how the two of us appeared to be ripping the Band-Aid off at that moment, I knew, because I knew us—that this was sure to be one long goodbye.

I didn’t hear from Amelie again for a little more than two and a half weeks. I had news that I was dying to share, and although I’d called her twice, she hadn’t yet returned my call. She did, however, send me an email.

To: Jack Harrison

From: Amelie Rose

Subject: I know I owe you a call…

Dear Jack,

I’m sorry I’ve missed you the past few times you rang.

Life has been hectic here.

I moved my things out of Ian’s place the day after I got back. Most of my belongings, I ended up putting in short-term storage. Over the past two weeks, I’ve either sold or donated the majority of my stuff—the rest I repacked and shipped to my mother.

The few belongings I have left (which, believe it or not, fit into just two suitcases) are here with me where I’m staying at a friend’s house until I depart for Australia next week.

I’m actually beginning to get excited about moving to Australia. The dispersing of my things was surprisingly very cathartic, and I think I’m ready for a fresh start. It’s always so interesting to simply be able to start anew—in a place where no one knows who you are—and where you can be whomever you want to be.

My mother spoke with one of my old docs, and by the time I arrived back in Boston, I had a prescription for a new medication to treat my depression and so far, so good. I’ve also found a psychologist here and she says that while it’s too early to see significant changes, she’s hopeful if I continue on this path—of therapy and the meds—that I’ll see a dramatic improvement. Hell, I think just dropping the one hundred and seventy pounds that was what’s-his-name was a dramatic improvement in and of itself. :)

Anyway, I’d better run for now.

But first, tell me what’s going on your way…

Amelie

To: Amelie Rose

From: Jack Harrison

Subject: RE: You still owe me…

Dear Amelie,

That sounds great. You sound well.

As for me, I am adjusting to my new normal. Jane and her daughter have moved in here, and she’s put her place up for sale. She’s been pretty sick with the pregnancy, so I’ve taken leave from work in order to care for Molly. I don’t know how much I’ve told you—but Molly is Jane’s daughter. She is six and she’s quite amazing. We’ve developed a little bond, the two of us.

Jane underwent some early testing last week, due to her age, and we’ll get the results next week. I had no idea that it was even possible to be this anxious—but it is. They say the tests will determine the baby’s sex, and to tell the truth, I’m not sure I’m ready to know. It’s as though somehow it will make this whole situation seem more real and less like a dream.

AND that isn’t even the news I was calling about… I wanted to hear your voice when I shared the news, but I understand moving halfway across the world is a full-time gig in and of itself, and so I’ll just write it. We are moving to Colorado, close to Telluride. I loved it so much when we visited that I did a bit of research and really gave some consideration as to what I wanted next in life—other than being a father. In a sense, I guess, the realization that I’m bringing a child into this world has made me question a lot of things. And as for what’s next, you are NEVER in a million years going to guess… but I’ve decided to move to Colorado and open up my own version of Camp Hope.

With the money my father left me, combined with what I’ll receive by selling off a portion of my business, I should make out ok. Also, Jane has a lot of expertise in the non-profit sector with her background in social work and all. But mostly, it’s watching Molly that has made me realize there’s such a need. Jane has done an amazing job at finding resources for her and I can see what a difference it has made. And I can’t help but think… what if you and I’d had those same resources…

I mean, Camp Hope was great, but it wasn’t what we really needed. The camp I intend to create will teach more than just sitting around talking about one’s feelings….

I KNOW! I can hear you now saying… YOU’RE DOING WHAT? You don’t even like kids.

And at one time, I would have agreed. But now that I’m about to be a dad, I figure this—in addition to caring for Molly—is the best way to get my feet wet.

Love,

Jack