Can't Always Get What You Want (39 page)

“You were my first love. With you, I learned what love could and should be. I never thought I’d be with anyone half as wonderful as you. You were sweet, and funny, and smart. So, so smart. And kind, and gentle. And poetic. Adventurous.”

I think for a moment. “And hot. God, you were hot,” I say, laughing. “I could go on and on, talking about how great you are.”

A smile spreads over my lips. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“We had so many firsts. First time being in love. First time making love. I wanted you, for forever.”

Hot, angry tears stain my cheeks.

“I was so angry with you, when you died. Angry that you didn’t notice it sooner. Angry that
I
didn’t notice the cancer sooner. I was angry you left me here all alone. Part of me clung to the belief that if we’d have done things differently, you’d still be here.”

Sniffle.

“With me.”

Mad, whooshing blood pounds a fast rhythm in my ears.

“I was angry with your parents for blaming me, angry with myself for thinking they might’ve been right. Angry with you for getting sick in the first place.

“I felt so pissed off with God, for allowing me to meet you and then taking you away before we had a chance to really be together. It all just felt so unfair, so pointless.

“And then this year, when I met Brett…”

My voice cracks.

“I’ve been so afraid that you’re looking down from heaven, waiting to hurl thunderbolts on our heads. I’ve felt so guilty, worrying what you might think. Worrying that you’d think I didn’t love you anymore.

“Aaron,” I say quietly. “I’ll always love you. You’ll always be a part of me.”

My knees, weak and shaky, give out. I kneel down in the cold snow, sunlight shining on my face.

“I forgive you, Aaron.

“I forgive you for getting sick.

“I forgive you for dying.

“I forgive your parents for blaming me.

“I forgive you for loving me and leaving me.

“And…I forgive myself. For not fixing you, for not having all of the answers.”

Cold, clean air fills my lungs.

I can breathe again.

“I forgive myself for holding on too long, for making mistakes.”

My thoughts, like an ocean’s tide, ebb and flow between Aaron and Brett.

I look up at the tree branch, and notice that my birdie friend has gone.

But, that’s somehow okay now.

“Aaron, I wrote you a letter. I wrote down everything I ever wanted to say to you. Since there’s no mail service to heaven, this is the best I could come up with.”

A breeze blows through, lifting pieces of my hair and tugging the balloon. I feel the white ribbon flex in my hand.

Okay, this is it. This is the reason I came out here.

I look up at the balloon, and my chest constricts.

I slowly begin to release my fingers from the tether. The physical act of letting go seems so final.

My pulse races. I feel like I could both fly and scream.

Am I ready to do this?

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

One by one, I relax my fingers, and finally feel the ribbon slip through my hand. For an agonizing moment, I consider trapping the ribbon in my fist again, jumping for it before I completely let go.

But, I don’t. I watch the bright red balloon with my letter to Aaron inside float higher and higher into the sky, a brilliant spot of life and color, until I can’t see it anymore.

I stand, my legs numb and cold from kneeling so long. I close my eyes, and breathe deep, arms outstretched. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unburdened, so light and airy, so…

Free.

Snowflakes settle softly on my face. I smile, eyes still closed.

I imagine that they are goodbye kisses from Aaron. The thought is both immensely sad and comforting.

I eventually look around; my eyelashes are matted with fluffy snowflakes. While I was in my own little world, a fresh, white blanket of snow had fallen, enveloping the entire forest in a clean, wintry hug.

My tracks are completely covered.

I turn toward the trail, and make a new path on my way out of the woods.

Chapter 38

It’s All Over Now

Trudging out of the woods, I see Samira in her car, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, singing along to a song.

She turns the radio off. “So, how’d it go?”

I settle into my seat and glance back at the woods. “It was bittersweet, but good. I feel better than I have in years. It’s like I’ve been wrapped up in chains for years, and today I finally found the key.”

She nods, and after a pause, leans over to give me an awkward side hug.

“I was worried about you out there by yourself. You were gone a long time.”

The mid-afternoon sun glares off the snow.

“Ah, still plenty of daylight left.”

I take out my phone to check messages as we drive away, noting the date and time. It’s the second week in December. Tiny alarm bells are going off in my head.

“How fast can you drive back to the city?” I ask.

Samira narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”

“I was supposed to meet Brett today. Well, sort of. We set up this date months ago. He was going to teach me how to skate. He was so excited about it.”

I bite my lip, my mind frantic. “If he’s still there today, then he hasn’t given up on me.”

“What time were you supposed to meet him?”

I glance at my phone again. It’s a quarter after three, and we’re at least an hour north of the city limits.

“At five. He wanted to take me to some outdoor skating rink on the south side.”

Sam says nothing, but I feel the car lurch forward. We hurtle toward the city, spraying gravel and chunks of snow behind us.

What will it be like to see him again—that is, assuming he shows up. Our last encounter didn’t exactly go well. Does he even want to see me?

I glance at the clock. It’s already 5:30
P.M.

“What’s taking so long?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair.

Samira gestures toward the plugged main road. “Stupid weekend traffic.”

I squint at the long stretch of highway, my stomach twisted in knots.

What if he’s there right now, waiting for me? What if he’s about to leave, seeing as how my late ass hasn’t shown up? I feel really jittery inside, and have to talk myself out of bolting from the car. We’re inching forward, but it’s going to take forever.

Please let him wait for me.

—

Samira and I pull into the skating rink’s parking lot just after six.

“Good luck!” Samira calls out before I slam the door. I run toward the skate shack, and rent a pair in my size.

This particular outdoor rink is in the shape of an oval ring, with trees on the inside and outside of the ring. Finding a bench nestled into the tree line, I quickly lace my skates up and stand on the rubber mat.

Holy crap. I’m actually standing. Why do people make such a big deal about skating being hard? I bet I’m a natural. I take a step toward the ice.

Ouch! Son of a bitch, these things pinch!

Okay. Don’t lose focus here. It’s not like I haven’t worn uncomfortable shoes. I’m still standing, which is the main thing. Yup. This is going to be a piece of cake. All I need to do now is find Brett. If he’s here, I know it’s all going to be okay.

This is going to be perfect.

—

This is definitely not perfect.

“OOOPFF!” I grunt, falling for the fifteenth time in two minutes.

People whiz by, hair and scarves whipping behind them, their skates leaving smooth scars in the ice.

Show-offs.

I stand up and try again. And immediately lose balance.

“Fuuuuuu—”

An idyllic family of four skates by just then, the parents shooting me dirty looks.

“Fun!” I say, wincing as my hip smashes into the ice.

What idiot invented this, anyway? At some point in history, there must have been some guy who said, “You see the ice out there? I’m going to strap some sharp, narrow bits of metal onto my shoes and, you know, slide around.”

His friends probably nodded, and quietly backed away.

“
Hans has lost it
,” they no doubt muttered amongst themselves.

I try standing again, and somehow manage to stay upright. So long as no one touches me or causes a strong breeze while passing by, I’ll be okay.

I try to look over the crowd of people, searching for Brett’s face. I’m more than an hour late. What if he already went home? What if he didn’t show up at all?

All of these little families and cute couples fly past me, reminding me of what I could have had, but was stupid enough to push away.

I shuffle a couple of feet forward, never lifting my skates off the ice.

Sandy blond hair flashes across the rink. His profile, etched in my dreams every night, is unmistakable. My face erupts in a face-splitting grin.

He’s here!

“Brett!” I shout, waving wildly.

He doesn’t turn, so I shout even louder. “BRETT!”

Shiny brunette hair pops up beside him. An arm of a pristine white coat snakes around his waist.

Emmie.

The butterflies in my stomach form into a hard rock, and die.

I’ve got to get out of here. Now.

I whip around, forcing my body against the flow of traffic. I should have known Emmie would sink her claws into him somehow.

“Ugh!” I screech. I get a few weird looks.

How could I have been so stupid? Thinking that he’d wait for me?

The bench in the tree line is visible. At last! My sanctuary. I can take off these stupid skates, and go home to lick my wounds. I’m nearly there when a large man with a caveman physique barges past me. I fall onto the ice like a sack of hammers.

“Watch where you’re going!” he yells.

This is the worst fall yet. I think I just broke my ischial tuberosity.

Or, as I like to call it, my ass bone.

My hands are outstretched behind me, fingers splayed to help myself stand up. Shiny metal blades zip past me on all sides, nearly clipping my fingers. I brush my ice-slushed hands on my pants.

What was I thinking? I should have never come here.

I should have never let him go.

“Sophie?”

Brett towers above me, Christmas lights shining through his hair.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” he says.

Emmie stands beside him, hands on hips and lips pursed.

“What’s she doing here?”

Brett offers his gloved hand, and yanks me up. My eyes flit to the tree line, the bench, my skates. Anywhere but his face.

“I was just going,” I mutter. “Excuse me.”

“Soph! Wait a minute!”

“No, I won’t keep you. It looks like you have company.”

Emmie sticks out her chin, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Brett glides to my side. Oh my goodness, is he skating backward?

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I yell.

His eyes open wide.

“Is that really why you came here tonight? To shout at me about my skating?”

“No!”

“Then why are you here?”

I stumble onto the rubber mat by the park bench, relishing the solid, nonslip surface. I slump onto the bench, holding my face in my hands.

“Because I thought it might mean something if you were here too.”

The bench shifts beside me. “I hoped you’d be here too.”

I glance up at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“What about your, um, friend?” I ask.

“She showed up for the festival, and she saw me here. Nothing’s going on, I swear.”

“Then why did she have her arm wrapped around you?”

“She said she was having trouble standing up.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure she did.”

“That’s what she said! Soph, I honestly don’t even like her. She’s clingy, whiny, and way too aggressive. I feel like she’s stalking me. I don’t even know how she found out I’d be here tonight.”

“What?” I hear Emmie screech. “You’re more interested in this badly dressed—”

“Hey! This coat is Ralph Lauren!”

“—dull, emo wannabe freak—”

“Ugh! For the millionth time, it was a henna accident!”

“—than
me
?”

Emmie gestures to her svelte, designer-encased body.

Brett pauses for a second, never taking his eyes off me.

“Yup.”

She stomps off (well, as best she can while wearing these contemptible death traps), screaming “Argh!” and “Get the hell out of my way!”

Brett and I sneak a look at each other. He snorts first. I fall into a fit of giggles.

That was perhaps the funniest thing ever.

And, most gratifying. The man I love isn’t interested in the vilest girl in the world. Which is a good thing.

Worry lines crease his forehead. He pushes his fingers against his lips, searching for the right words.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be here,” I begin.

“I almost didn’t come,” he admits. “But, on the off chance that you still might show up…” His eyes dart to his watch. “Took you long enough, though.”

“We were stuck in traffic.”

“Traffic? You live ten minutes away from here.”

“Sam and I were on the north side.”

His face twists. “Why?”

I take a deep breath. Where do I even begin?

“I was saying goodbye. To Aaron.”

He puffs out his cheeks and exhales slowly. “So, what does that mean?”

“It means that I’ve come to terms with it, as best I can. With what happened. And decided to let it go.”

Brett’s lips pull sideways.

“It couldn’t have been that easy. You were so messed up about him, Sophie. Just a month ago, you had his picture out beside mine, comparing us.”

My high spirits sag.

He shakes his head. “How can I ever be sure that you’re mine? As much as I want to say yes, to start over, I’m not sure that I’ll ever be enough for you. I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

I grab his hands and stare at him. He looks back, eyes shining.

“Do you know that I think about us being old together?” I say.

The corners of his lips quirk up a little.

“I think about you and I doing dishes, where we’ll live, how many grandkids we’ll have. When I think about all of the things I want to do and see in my life, I always picture you being there with me. Through the good and the bad. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last person I see as I fall asleep. You’re in my dreams every night.”