Pictures of You (28 page)

             
Mary, who was playing with her keys, sat them down on my nightstand. “I have work in twenty minutes, but maybe I should stay here to take care of you. You’ve never looked worse, not even when you barfed up a lung at the cemetery.”

             
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to work, too,” I said, running a comb through my wet hair. I
had
to see Chris. I had to do
something
to get my mind off of Adrien.

             
“But you look like hell, like the angel of death is hovering—”

             
The comb slipped from my fingers when the doorbell rang. Who could that be? Chris? Mrs. Watkins? One of Mary’s friends?

             
“You sit. I’ll get it,” she said, shoving me lovingly onto the bed.

             
“Mary, who is it?” I called from my bedroom, wiping puke off Tiger—who was glowering at me—with my damp bath towel. I pulled myself off the edge of the bed and stumbled into the hall, tottering my way to the door.

             
When I saw Adrien at the door my heart nearly stopped.

             
“Adrien?” I said, confused. For several seconds I wondered if I was delusional or dreaming. This was a dream within a dream.

             
But no, it wasn’t. This was real.

             
He was here. Adrien was here. Alive. In the flesh. Here.

             
“September?” he said, his face contorting in pain. “What have I done? You look like you’ve been to hell and back.”

             
I laughed, or actually, a strange noise resembling laughter escaped my throat. I took three steps forward and collapsed in his arms. He clutched me—tight—preventing me from crumbling to the floor. His strong arms felt like heaven around me. I took in his amazing scent, the scent I never thought I’d experience again. “You’re alive,” I said, delirious. I held him so close, I was probably crushing his ribs, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hold onto him and never, ever, let go.

             
“What have I done?” he echoed, pressing his lips into my hair.

             
“You broke her,” Mary said matter-of-factly, sliding into her jacket.

             
“I broke her,” Adrien agreed. He shook his head. “I’m a monster.”

             
“I don’t know what you did, but after seeing her suffer like this—yeah, you’re pretty much a monster,” she said, half-joking. She pocketed her keys. “Can I trust you to take care of her while I’m gone?” He nodded. “Whatever you did—don’t even
think
about doing it again,” she threatened, kissing me on the cheek before leaving for work.

             
With ease, Adrien picked me up and carried me to the couch. He gently palmed the side of my face before saying, “September. I’m so sorry. I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the words.

             
I wanted to say something, but I was paralyzed. So I settled for placing my hand on his.

             
“Can we go somewhere?” he asked, his voice urgent. “We need to talk.”

***

              I endured what felt like several eternal minutes of silence as Adrien collected his thoughts. What could he possibly have to tell me? And more importantly, is he still planning on…? I squeezed my eyes shut and shuddered.

             
It was a crisp, late September afternoon. For whatever reason, Adrien chose Cooper Park of all places to talk. Why a park? Why not my apartment or Tim’s Coffee or someplace warm? Maybe he felt this would be more private. We had a better shot at not being overheard.

             
Adrien and I sat shivering on a cold wooden bench. He’d grabbed a plaid blanket from his trunk which was now thrown around our shoulders. In silence we watched bundled up dog owners playing with their little fury companions a few feet away. The air smelled of pollution and hints of early fall.

             
“What is it? You can tell me anything,” I finally said, feeling exhausted from anticipation and dread.

             
“I’m ready to tell you why I’m…” he trailed off. My heart fluttered. I’d been waiting two weeks to hear this. But it felt much longer than that. Like almost a lifetime ago. “Remember when you asked me about my family?”

             
“Yes,” I said weakly.

             
“I told you I have a brother, but what I didn’t tell you was…that I had a sister.”

             
“Had?” I said, turning to him.

             
“When I was a kid I had this huge fascination with fire. I started fires all the time. With matches, lighters, magnifying glasses. Anything I could get my hands on.” He stopped, looking at something off in the distance. He swallowed a few times and collected the courage to continue. “When I was seven I snuck into my Aunt Lora’s purse and borrowed a book of matches. Later when my mom and aunt ran to the grocery store, my sister and I found ourselves alone. Mom usually took us with her on her errands, but she was having a bad day and needed a break. Aunt Lora talked her into leaving us alone, telling Mom I was an unusually mature seven-year-old.

             
“It started out so innocent. I was just lying on my bed, striking each match, one by one, watching the flame flicker and then blowing it out before the flame could hit my fingers. But when the phone rang, I must’ve dropped a match because by the time I got back, the entire room was up in flames. At first I froze. I stood and watched the flames consume my room with fascination and horror. I knew I had to call 911, but I panicked. I didn’t want to get into trouble. I was a
good
boy. I
never
got into trouble. Desperate for my parents’ approval, I couldn’t stand to see them unhappy with me. So I ran outside and hid in a bush. I didn’t think my sister would be in any danger. She was napping in her bedroom. I didn’t realize the fire could spread. I swear I thought she’d be safe. I sat in the bush bawling like a baby, spinning the wheels of my toy truck. A neighbor must’ve called emergency, but when the firefighters got there, it was too late. My sister was gone.” By now he was in tears, his body trembling.

             
“Adrien, I’m so sorry.” I rested a hand on his, squeezing it.

             
“They don’t know what got to her first—the smoke or the flames.”

             
“That’s awful.”

             
“She was four years old, September. She was so innocent, so pure. She had her whole life ahead of her. There’s so much she’ll never experience.”

             
“What was her name?”

             
“Lily,” he whispered, anguish painting his face.

             
“That’s a beautiful name.”

             
“It killed my parents. It was unbearable to watch. My mom blamed herself for leaving us alone. She kept saying, ‘I shouldn’t have left them alone, I shouldn’t have left them alone.’ She sunk into a deep depression, never fully recovering. My father blamed me. He couldn’t
look
at me anymore. He barely spoke to me. They couldn’t take it any longer, the grief destroyed their marriage. They got a divorce a year and a half later.”

             
“I’m so sorry.”

             
“I
killed
her. I killed my sister,” he said, holding my hand so tight, it was cutting off circulation. “I tore my parents apart. I destroyed my family.”

             
“It’s not your fault. You were just a
kid
. You need to forgive yourself.”

             
“I don’t deserve forgiveness. I can’t let it go.” He shoved the tears from his face.

             
To our left, several yards away, a young boy of six or seven with a huge toothy grin struggled to get his homemade kite to catch the wind. We watched his determined face as he encouraged his handiwork to take flight. When a gust of wind shot the flimsy paper upward after several failed attempts, his triumphant face made us chuckle.

             
“Would you forgive
him
? If he accidentally harmed his sister? Would he deserve a life sentence of guilt and punishment?” I asked.

             
“Of course not,” Adrien whispered.

             
“You were just a
kid
,” I repeated, pleading with Adrien with my eyes.

             
“I know. But there’s something more. It’s so much more than that.”

             
“What is it?”

             
“I…can’t say,” he said, kicking a pebble.

             
“Just tell me,” I pleaded, tired of secrets. I wanted to finally know the truth—all of it.

             
He shook his head. “Later.”

             
“Later? There are no laters for us. There are no laters! I hate you,” I said, acting like a three-year-old, pulling away. “I wish we never met.”

             
Adrien winced, he green eyes pained. “I deserved that.”

             
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered, my mood turning like a leaf in the wind. “You know I don’t hate you. I just want you to stay. There’s so much I want to say to you—
need
to say. If you’d only stick around a while longer you’d see that time has a way of healing things. Life can be beautiful, Adrien, you just need to push the dark clouds away and you’d see. If you’d just stop being so stubborn and get some help—”

             
“Okay,” he said flatly.

             
“What?”

             
“Okay.” He turned to me and grinned.

             
“I don’t get it.”

             
“My suicide plans are canceled,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

             
“Canceled? Not postponed?” I was suspicious. It was too easy.

             
“Canceled.”

             
“Just like that?”

             
“Just like that. It’s why I had to see you. I couldn’t get to your apartment fast enough.” I was dumbfounded. I studied his face for clues. “I’m in love with you, September. I just can’t bring myself to leave you.”

             
What I did next surprised me as much as it did him. Before I realized it, my hand curled up into a fist and I punched him in the gut. Alarm registered on his face before he doubled over, the breath knocked out of him.

             
“Oh, Adrien. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear,” I said, laughing. “But you don’t have a clue what you put me through last night, today. The last two weeks. It was pure hell.”

             
As soon as he caught his breath, he smiled a guilty, tortured smile. “I don’t deserve you, September. I’m a selfish creep. I promise you I’ll
never
put you through that again. I’m here for good. If you’ll have me, that is.”

             
Tears cascaded down my face. “Of course I’ll have you. All I want is you.”

28

             
My whole body quaked as Adrien took me in his arms. He held me for a long time as we both cried. He stroked my hair and kissed me softly, making me feel drunk and dizzy. I buried my face in his shoulder as his arms pulled me in tighter.

             
“What made you change your mind?” I asked, my voice muffled by his shoulder. I pulled away to study his face. He bit his lip and searched for the right words.

             
“I thought about what you said last night. That if I followed through with my plans, I’d hurt my family and friends. But more importantly, I’d hurt the one I love the most.” He gazed at me lovingly for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, anymore. I know I can’t always help it, I’m human. People hurt people—that’s life. But this is something I
do
have control over.” I nodded. “I was still unsure about things this morning. As much as I love my family, as much as I love you, September...” He paused, searching for the right words. “Love isn’t always enough. Love won’t fix things.
You
can’t fix me. I need to do this for myself…When I woke up this morning despair crept in, filling every square inch of my body and soul. I thought about ending it all, right then and there in my bed. But something strange happened. A bright light—the sun, I presume—an overwhelming light, whiter than I’d ever seen in my life, came through my window and poured its warmth on me. On my face, on my chest. The warmth felt like pure love.” His eyes watered. “Then I heard a whisper. At least I thought I heard a whisper. I swore I did, but it sounds crazy now. The voice said, ‘Adrien, you’re going to be okay.’ That’s it. Nothing too profound, but the light and the words bore into me, saturating me and then I just knew it. I knew eventually I would be okay, that I’d pull out of this. I haven’t made up my mind about God—whether he’s really there or not. But this thing, this experience this morning…was much bigger than me.”

             
“Wow,” I whispered, touching his arm.

             
“It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to take a
lot
of work. It could take months. Years. But if you could get through losing John and Abby and find some happiness, I will—somehow—get through this.”

             
“I know you will,” I said and believed it with all my heart.

             
We sat saying nothing for a moment, listening to leaves clapping in the wind and distant laughter. I had a lot to digest. I still couldn’t believe that I’d get what I wanted most—Adrien. He was mine. Mine to keep. I never wanted anyone the way I wanted him. But as I studied his face, I saw anxiety written all over it. There was something else. Something he wasn’t telling me. “What? What is it?”