Gone (23 page)

Gaia pulled her hands slowly out of his, and she turned toward the street.

But she turned around and she wrapped her arms tightly around the back of his neck. He wrapped his arms firmly around her waist as her lips fell against his. Her wet hair brushed against his face as she kissed him. He breathed in every ounce of her warm breath, and she pressed her body against his with more and more force. They needed this—for the same reasons or different reasons, it didn't even matter. They had made it through every imaginable disaster together. And they needed to share this one last kiss.

They finally let go, and Ed looked down at her, holding her face in his hands. “Gaia, just stay with me. Stay with me for the summer, and then you can leave.”

“Ed.” Her eyes were suddenly filled with regret, but they didn't move from his. Not for a moment. “I swear, if I could go back in time to us, to our night together and the next day, the day I should have
stayed,
I would do that. I would do that so fast. That was the happiest I've ever been. That was the closest I ever got. We were… I mean, you and me…”

“I know,” he said. “You and me. Let's go back now. Let's go back to that day. We can start right now.”

But Gaia's eyes only grew sadder and more resigned. “We can't. Our lives are changing now. Everything has to change. It has to. Understand?”

Ed shook his head slowly, but then he began to nod in spite of himself. Because he did understand. Beyond all the sadness, beyond everything his heart wanted so badly at this moment, there was a certain understanding of what she meant. Moving on. Growing older. Letting go of things you're convinced you absolutely need the most. For Ed that thing was Gaia. She was the thing he needed the most. And if he had any intentions of starting any kind of real life after high school… he apparently needed to let go of her. “I've been trying to,” he admitted. “I've been working on it.”

She smiled. “I love you,” she said. “I know you know that.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that.” He smiled. His nonchalance was deeply ironic, and it made Gaia laugh. Which was all he had ever wanted to do.

“Okay,” she said. She finally pulled away and backed a few steps down the alley. “Okay…”

“Okay…,” Ed croaked. “Please don't make me say goodbye again. I can't do it twice.”

“I won't,” she said. “We've said it.”

“Right.”

“Right, so… Right.” She jumped back and gave him one last long kiss, and then she turned around and ran down the alley into the light of the street. She ran hard and fast, and she never looked back. Ed watched the last of her blond hair disappear around the corner, and he knew she was gone. For real this time. Gone.

But he had to admit… his vision for this night had come true. Maybe not exactly the way he'd imagined it. Okay, not at all the way he'd imagined it. But with Gaia, nothing ever was.

Ed was still going to go home and lie down in his tux and experience a hollow feeling of deep misery for an endless succession of days and nights.

But the fact remained… there was, indeed, such a thing as a soul mate. And Ed had the inexplicable feeling that he would have his for many years to come.

GAIA CLIMBED UP THE STEPS OF A Greyhound bus with nothing but the sopping clothes on her back. She gazed down the length of the bus's narrow aisle and began the slow search for a seat. She knew she looked like absolute hell. She looked just as burnt out and worn away as she felt. She watched as the passengers in each row flashed her dirty looks and whispered various asides to each other about the tragic state of America's youth. She passed row after row of seats until finally her eyes met with those of a serene old woman who did not pass judgment on her but rather offered her a most unexpected welcoming smile. It took all she had not to start crying again right then and there.

She plopped down next to the woman, in a state of pure exhaustion the likes of which she had never experienced without passing out. And finally…she could stop running.

It had only been a few blocks from that alley on Forty-seventh Street to Port Authority, but it had felt almost as long as the run from Skyler's as she tried to recover from saying goodbye to Ed.

She sat there squirming in her seat as she searched for some kind of emotional stability. Thoughts of Jake were still pounding on the door, as were thoughts of
Mary and now Ed. All those painful pieces of the past that she was trying to leave behind. It wouldn't be easy at first. She knew that. Moving on physically was a very different thing from moving on emotionally. There weren't just miles of ground to cover; there were miles of unresolved feelings, too, and Gaia had no idea how long it would take to heal or even if she ever
would
heal. She only knew that this was the first step: the bus's ignition and the shutting hydraulic door.

But as the engine began to rev up, Gaia was amazed to find that the physical movement actually did seem to have some kind of emotional effect on her. She found her entire body flooded with the most unexpected sense of relief the moment the bus rolled out from the tunnels of Port Authority to the latenight streetlights of New York. She watched the Walt-Disney-fied stretch of Forty-second Street disappear behind her, and it was almost like she could feel the city saying goodbye. Or not so much saying goodbye as just… letting her go. The city was such a living, breathing entity. It seemed to have a mind of its own. And in a strange way, even the city seemed to know the truth:

She was leaving it for good. She was never going to come back.

But the true relief didn't come until they'd turned onto the West Side Highway. When they hit the highway, Gaia finally found herself leaning back into her
chair with a kind of relaxation that she had probably not experienced in the past five years. As the bright New York skyline faded out of view in her window, she actually let out a long exhalation. She was, in fact, so at ease for that moment that she didn't even mind when her serene elderly seatmate struck up a conversation.

“Where you headed?” the woman asked. She had a slight southern accent that Gaia couldn't quite place. Her eyes were kind, and so was her voice. She reminded Gaia a little of an older French actress she'd seen in a movie once, although Gaia couldn't remember the movie.

“Well…” Gaia laughed uncomfortably now that it was actually time to answer the question. “I'm going out to Ohio to visit my brother, D. I haven't seen him in a long time. He's staying with a friend of mine. But after that… to be honest… I don't even know.”

“Ah, you're a voyager, huh?” The woman smiled.

“Um… I am now,” Gaia said. A voyager… She actually liked the sound of that. It sounded epic somehow. Filled with majestic possibilities.

The old woman examined Gaia's profile for a bit longer, clearly waiting for her to say more. But Gaia didn't know what else to say. She was literally taking her life one minute at a time now.

“Well, where do you want to go?” the woman finally asked.

Gaia looked at her, and then she glanced away,
peering out at the dark Hudson River for an answer. The way the woman had asked, it seemed like such a simple question.
Where do you want to go?
A girl on a bus ought to know where she was going, right? But to Gaia, that question was everything but simple. It was, in fact, loaded with a very daunting sense of mystery.

She simply hadn't thought as far as where she actually wanted to end up. Once she had paid D a nice long visit, she had no sense of a final destination. She only knew where she
didn't
want to be anymore. She only knew what she had to leave. And that part of the mission was accomplished.

So, after looking fruitlessly to the river and the dark night sky for an answer, she ended up giving the woman the only honest answer she could think of.

“I don't know,” she said. “Someplace where I can feel safe. Someplace where I can be happy. But I don't know where.”

The old woman cocked her head and laughed. “Oh, that's an easy one,” she said. Gaia could tell that she had somehow just tapped into a well of this woman's worldly wisdom. And she was glad. At this point she would take wisdom wherever she could get it.

“Let me tell you,” the woman said, “I've been where you are. I was a bit of a voyager myself back in the day, and I've done the math on this one. All you've got to do is ask yourself: Where was the last place you felt
truly safe and truly happy? And once you figure that out… you just go there.” She threw up her arms as if to say,
Piece of cake!
“So? Where was it?”

It was a hell of a question. Truly safe? And truly happy? Gaia Moore? Nuh-uh. Three things not commonly used in the same sentence. When had she ever felt truly safe and happy without compromise? Without wondering when it was all going to explode in her face or someone else's? Without wondering when the inevitable facts of her life would set in and it would all fall apart in the most tragic way possible? No, she would have to go way back for that feeling. Way back.

But then, of course, she realized. That was where the answer was. It
was
way back. Way back in another time and another place, when she was basically another person. The key to her future was in her past….

She turned to the woman as the sudden epiphany began to fill her with hope.
Truly safe and truly happy
…

“A house in the mountains,” Gaia said, letting her eyes drift out the window as the night raced by. An involuntary smile crept up at the corners of her mouth. “When I was twelve years old. California. That's the last time I felt truly safe and happy. In California. My mother was there. And my father. We were all there… together.” Gaia didn't feel the need to go into any more detail than that She had enough problems with emotional stability as it was.

“California.” The woman smiled. She nodded with approval. “Well, there you are. … Now you know where you're going.”

Gaia looked into the old woman's eyes. Once again she had somehow made it all seem so very simple. And when Gaia really thought about it… she supposed it was.

Dear Dad,

Someone once said that you can't judge a man (or a woman) until you've walked in his (or her) shoes. And I suppose they're right. As I sit here writing this (sorry if the handwriting's a link shaky), I think I'm just beginning to get a sense of what it might feel like to walk in your shoes for a little while. And I think maybe that might not be such a bad thing in the long run (yes, I believe there may in fact be a “long run”).

I remember that night in Paris when you showed me all those letters you had written to me and never sent over the years—the ones that explained why you had to go away and how much you missed me. The ones that tried to explain why sometimes going away is really the safest and wisest choice for all parties involved…

Well, I just wanted you to know, Dad, for the record, I think I'm starting to understand that concept—at least in theory. And most importantly…

forgive you. I do. From the bottom of my heart. I wish I could have understood it better when I was younger and not wasted so many years being angry at you—years I can't get back and emotional damage I probably can't totally repair—but still, I wanted you to know. I forgive you for all the times you've gone away. I know it didn't mean that you didn't love me or want what's best for me.

I want you to understand that I love you so much, and I will write you again very soon and tell you where I've ended up. But for right now…

It's my turn to go away.

And I know you understand. Because you've been in my shoes. So please don't worry. I think you know now that I can take care of myself.

I love you,

Gaia

Losers
with no imagination tend to get a little confused about what it means to be an “existentialist.” I think for the most part, when someone says they're an existentialist, people just assume that means they're really depressed, they wear a lot of black, and they read a lot of Sartre or Camus.

Well, I suppose that would have been a pretty apt description of me, actually. But that's just my point. Even
I,
a self-proclaimed existential ist, lost sight of the true meaning of the philosophy. I think I became one of those losers with no imagination.

The fact is, as far back as I can remember, there's always been someone else pulling the strings in my life. No matter what I do, I've always been falling into someone's trap, part of someone else's “grand design”: Loki, Ella, George, Natasha, Tatiana, Yuri, Skyler, even that psychotic
son of a bitch Chris, who actually called himself “God.” Talk about “grand design.” I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his life.

But the point is, I've always believed that all those demented bastards were in charge of my fate. And I kept letting it happen again and again. I kept giving up all my power to them. I kept letting
them
make all the decisions about what god-awful tragedy was going to befall me next. And as long as I
truly
believed that my fate was already decided for me-that the tragedies were somehow inevitable-they just kept
happening.
Over and over. Until my own existence felt practically nonexistent.

But Loki has gone away. And the Rodkes have been taken in. There's nothing standing in my way now. No one left to pull my strings but me.

My predetermined life is over now. I am never again giving anyone the power to decide my fate
besides
me. I
decide. I make my
own
fate. That is what it truly means to be an existentialist.

And I have made my first truly existential decision. I am putting my past behind me. I am leaving this city and I am redesigning my life from scratch.