Swept Away (7 page)

If Michael were here he'd say she was turning native again, a country girl at heart rhapsodizing about the benefits of a fall morning. What did he know, he was California bred through and through his favorite part of the day was deciding what gadget to turn on and keep with him. She missed how he was so technologically savvy even when it annoyed her beyond all end.

She places a hand over her abdomen and wonders if their child will take after her or him in that way. Would it want to relish the coming fall and lay stretched out in a field of grass while butterflies flutter away or would it be more at home surrounded by bucket loads of gadgets, everything having its own place and a place for everything, a clap to turn shit on and a blink to lose your way. She misses him. She misses him so much and it is killing her in every single way.

Michael calls her the next day. And the next day. And the next. She doesn’t answer. She finds out he’s been calling almost non-stop since she hung up on him.

It makes her feel a little better but she’s not ready to talk to him. A letter comes in the mail three days later and Mom holds it out to her like it’s a cobra that will attack at any moment.

“You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. I can read it for you? Or we can just toss it away.”

Amber shakes her head even though the thought does sound appealing. “No, I better just get it over with.”

She takes it to her room because she can’t do this with her mom’s eyes staring at her. She’s broken down enough times in front of them over the last few days that she’s pretty sure her entire quota for falling apart has been used up for the next year at least.

Her hands are shaking as she opens it up.

“Amber,” it reads. “I’ve been so scared. You won’t pick up the phone and when your Dad does he won’t let me speak to you. I need to speak to you, baby, please. Please please please let me talk to you. I’m sorry I asked you that question, you just sounded so scared, I don’t know, the only thing I could think of was ‘she’s gonna say it’s not yours and that she’s found someone else’ and I know it’s dumb, so fucking dumb, I’m dumb. Amber I love you so much, please just talk to me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything. I’m not ready to be a father I’m not—”

And there she stops. Hands shaking she folds it back up. Puts it back in the envelope and puts the whole thing away. And then trembling still, she takes it back out again and crumbles it into a wad and dumps it into the trash. Because that’s what it is. Garbage.

She doesn’t know why she’d thought she’d feel better after hearing from him. Amber climbs back into bed fully clothed and pulls the covers up to her chin.

She doesn’t know why it hurts so much to read those words. She’s not ready to be a mother either.

The next day she has her mom make an appointment for her. If she does it now it’s not a child yet, just the possibility of one that she can’t let grow into a reality. She’s not ready and he’s not ready and what’s the sense of making someone else pay for their mistakes? Because if she kept it, that’s what she’d be doing, making their baby pay for them. And if she gave it up for adoption? What then…

She can’t do that either though. Can’t carry it around for nine months, eat for it, breathe for it, live for it, and then let it go.

It’s practically killing her just letting Michael go and she wasn’t attached to him body and soul, not literally anyway.

She’s going to have an abortion and they’re going to put this whole thing away.

* * * *

She can’t go to her regular doctor, she won’t. There are few things in the world that she’s more terrified of at the moment, Dr. Walters’ judging, pitying eyes, as she tells him she needs him to take out the child that he's just congratulated her on? That is one of those things.

Mom thinks it’s funny, in a sad sort of way, and Amber can read the relief when she makes the call. She hears the unspoken,
“you’re not ready for this”
both her parents bite back constantly.

Instead she ends up at a clinic clear across town.

Or hospital rather, because it’s huge and sterile and bright white inside. She walks in, and even with tons of people around feels more alone then she’s ever been.

Mom had had to check to see if there’d been any protests before they came and only allowed Amber to go after she’d circled around a couple of times first.

And that’s scary too, thinking that this terrible huge decision isn’t enough to focus on she has to be worried that someone out there will try and make the issue that much harder for her to have to choose. That much more dangerous. The sky was gray, heavy with the promise of rain, and that was pretty freakin’ perfect if anyone asked her.

It was cold outside, a chill in the air, and the trees sway lightly in a breeze. But the weather alone couldn’t account for the cold up her spine because she felt it just the same even after she’d gone in.

Obsessively, she thought of the last night Michael had spent with her. His slow passionate kisses, the gentle way he’d frame her face, how he was strong enough to pick her up and move her where he wanted and one time how he’d held her aloft and had her right there, carrying her full weight while he took her midair.

She blushes bright and crosses her legs tight.

What the hell did any of that matter now? He wasn’t here with her. Her mother had to come instead of the one person she’d thought would always be there for her.

“Amber Moore.” The nurse came to the door and called out her name and it sounded strange, unfamiliar like it belonged to someone else.

Amber rose stiffly to her feet and with one final squeeze of her hand, left Mom to wait for her while she went through those double doors.

Chapter Five

Amber looks around her dorm room with reluctant satisfaction. Through some miracle of mismanagement she’d gotten a single all to herself and has just spent the whole weekend arranging her things. She’s only been here for two days but so far college is not as exciting as she’d thought it’d be.

Or maybe it’s the fact that she can’t seem to shake this weepy, sad feeling that’s followed her all the way from California.

Inside there’s an emptiness she can’t escape.

She can’t be happy that she doesn’t have a roommate. Right now, she would bless a distraction from her thoughts.

Amber drops the last of her clean clothes onto her single mattress and plops herself down next to it. She’s sick of packing, she’s sick of thinking, she’s sick of being hurt and empty.

She lays flat on her back, her hand drifting to her stomach absently. There’s nothing in there now, just organs and blood. She’d thought that getting rid of it would have made everything go back to normal but it didn’t.

Still she’s here, she’s made it. Not quite the way she imagined or still wants even, but she’s here all the same.

There’s a knock on her door and Amber is too exhausted to get up to answer it so she calls out, “it’s open!”

A girl peeks her head around the corner. “Hi, I’m Kim.”

She’s small and thin and looks all of twelve. Kim makes herself at home, squashing Amber between the wall and the pile of clothes. “I live down the hall, just got in today, so I guess we’re gonna be living together for the next year, right?”

Amber blinks and shrugs, she honestly hadn’t been paying attention to orientation dinner last night and it’s like the last few months are a gigantic blur where any information she’d gained about college life was wiped away just as quickly as it was entered into her brain.

Amber introduces herself as well and the girl takes over the rest of the conversation easily, bombarding her with the questions: ‘where did she live before, what does her parents do, is she an only child, is her brother hot or not?’ and on and one in a whirlwind of words interspersed with giggles. Until she finally hits on one that’s a little too close to home:

“You seeing anyone? My boyfriend doesn’t graduate until next year but then he’s joining me here, if we can make it through this one, I guess. Long distance relationships, right? Wooo, they suck ass, but I love him and we’ve been going out forever so I can’t just break up with him and sow my ‘wild oats’ and stuff. What about you?”

Amber’s decision to block out all memories of Michael and the last few months is off to a shaky start.

She shakes her head no and the expression on her face must be enough because Kim doesn’t follow up that obviously loaded answer with another question. Instead she begins to ramble on about some party that the local frat is throwing tonight and how she’s already been invited.

“I was pretty popular in high-school,” Kim reveals. She’s still reclining on Amber’s bed and Amber wonders how she can politely get the girl to go away. It’s not that she’s really annoying her or anything but she hasn’t felt like company as of late.

“I’d worried that it was going to change, you know that saying, big fish in a little pond, little fish in a big pond? Yeah, I thought that’d be me but nope! So far everyone’s been really cool and nice.”

Amber nods along sagely, only listening with half an ear on the conversation. High school was quiet. She wasn’t popular and she wasn’t an outcast, she had the debate team and she had Michael in his letters that came every week like clockwork.

“So you wanna go?”

Amber has to really jog her memory at the question, Kim’s expressive face falls as Amber sees her realize that Kim was the only one keeping track of the conversation.

“The party…” Kim prompts. “Do you want to go? If nothing else there should be plenty of hot guys there.”

It’s that last sentence and the accompanying pang of pain that lances through her gut, that flash of ‘the only one she’ll ever want is so very far from her grasp’ that prods her into accepting. She can’t be this way, it’s been months and months and she’d thought getting out of the house, getting out of the
state
that would be enough. It’s not though, she misses him and she misses what could have been and what was, she misses the feeling of warmth that came over her when she placed a hand on her lower belly and thought of their child being in there. Yes, fear superseded the—comfort, joy, contentment—thrill of everything else. And truthfully even when she regrets it she knows she’s made the right choice.

But she still misses all the possibilities and she’s frankly sick of being so damn sad all the time she could just—

“Yes, I’ll go,” Amber says decisively, shaking herself out of thoughts that circle around and around without end.

Kim bounces up and down on the bed and squeals.

* * * *

Forty minutes later, Amber is doing what she always does at every party—not that she’d attended many. She’s standing awkwardly in a corner while the person she’s arrived with—in this case Kim—mingles and laughs and finds themselves a bunch of friends.

She feels even more awkward in her short little getup. It’s the same outfit she’d worn in Australia when she was on the hunt to lose her virginity and instead lost everything—her guy, her heart, her happiness. It’s a deliberate choice, maybe if she creates new memories in this dress she can start blocking out all the old ones.

She feels eyes on her and turns to seek out the source. There’s a guy staring at her from across the room, a plastic cup in his hand that probably contained that pungent mystery punch Kim had tried to get her to drink. Amber had more sense than that and is currently sipping on a bottle of water.

He’s tall, with dark eyes and a built body that’s easily a rival for Michael’s years of military-trained sculpted form. She gives him a weak smile when he doesn’t look away and ducks her head down.

She’s always thought she’d had a type but the truth is there’s only Michael. That’s it.

“Hey,” says a husky voice from behind, whiskey bit and rich.

“Hi,” Amber says, mutters low and if he hadn’t been standing so close she’d probably have to repeat herself.

It’s the guy from across the room only he’s not across the room anymore, his hand is hesitantly laying on her hip and his chest is brushing against her elbow.

“I’m Ryan,” he says and he tilts his face and directs the words to her ear, pulling her closer to him.

It feels nice to be touched this way; it feels like forever since there’s been a guy warm against her side, interested in her, wanting her, and she wonders if it makes her easy for wanting that little bit of comfort he offers.

“I’m Amber,” she replies and her voice is already trembling. She wonders if he notices her hands shaking too and if he does, does he think it’s because she’s fighting sobriety and losing, or because she’s a basket case that’s always on the verge of tears for no good reason.

She feels more like that last.

“Are you a freshman too?”

“Yes,” she replies after a pause. His hand trips over her hip bone and smoothes its way down her thigh. Her bare thigh. She wonders if she should stop him or let him and then wonders why it is she doesn’t really even care.

“Where are you from?”

She has to think about it. The last five years California has been her home. It’s where everyone she loves now resides… well, almost everyone. Can’t she go a second without thinking about Michael? His vibrant green eyes and his open laugh, the way he’d held her and touched her and whispered visions of their future.

“California,” she replies firmly. She doesn’t want to get into it, doesn’t want to talk about her parent’s divorce—and the reason for it—or the reconciliation that fell apart nearly as quickly as it had been glued back together. Or the fact that out of all of them she would never had said her Mom and Dad would be the ones that are still going, yeah they’re in therapy but they’re together. Michael was her best friend, he saw her through every storm, its worse knowing that she doesn’t have him to turn to than even knowing she doesn’t have his love.

And there she goes again. A simple question convoluted by her wayward heart.

“What about you? Where are you from?” she asks, needing anything to distract herself from this misery.

“The great state of Texas. Where everything is a little bigger than life.” The excitement in his voice makes her laugh and he smiles wide in response.

“Hey, you’re almost done with that. Want me to get you another drink? Water again or something else?” Ryan takes the empty bottle from her and begins moving in the opposite direction as he talks.

“Water’s fine.”

He returns with a bottle for both of them, and she’s glad to see he knows how to limit himself. Not that it really matters in the end but he’s a welcome distraction that could quickly get out of hand if she has to babysit drunken revelry. So it’s lucky that he’s not drinking anymore and it has nothing to do with the fact Michael is the last boy she’s breathed in that scent of liquor burn and the steady warm kick of alcohol makes her think of him.

Amber sips at her bottle of water, and stares off into space. Ryan seemingly content to let her mull over her thoughts at her own pace. It seems a little unfair how everything everyone is so lively, happy and laughing and enjoying themselves without reservation. She wants to be one of them but there’s nothing left but an emptiness that gapes unfilled and a hole in her heart.

They talk a little more, she asks more questions than he can because it’s easier that way. She learns he’s nothing at all like Michael and that’s better, that’s good. He’s a middle child from a happy home, he only chose a college so far away because it was the first to give him a full ride. He’s smart in that effortless, unimposing way that Michael has but that’s about all they share. Ryan’s jokes are corny and he knows it, smiling brighter and stronger when she rolls her eyes and calls him out. He touches her, constantly, but it’s almost without purpose or sexual intent and she relaxes back into him letting his arm wrap around her waist and his head of shaggy hair affectionately knocking against hers, gently.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Ryan tells her. The expression on his face is sincere.

His compliment takes her by surprise, especially since superimposed on top of his voice is Michael’s gentle baritone whispering, “a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t look so sad.”

Shyly, sadly, she looks down and away. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter? More quiet?” He stumbles over the offer in a rush of breath and an awkward trip up of his tongue over grammar.

And here’s her moment. This is what she wants right? A memory to cover all the bitter-sweet memories she can’t forget? A moment to wipe away Michael’s touch, the heat of his body moving insider her, sweat-slicked skin pressed against her own?

Someone else’s mouth or lips or tongue stealing her kisses and turning them into their own?

It’s what she wants, maybe what she needs.

Except all she can think is ‘Michael wouldn’t have cared if he was grammatically correct.’

And now she can’t.

Ryan’s face falls before she opens her mouth to say anything. It’s like he reads her mind. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I mean I’d like it to be like that, you’re beautiful and easy to talk to and this is the first time all week I haven’t missed home, but it’s okay if you don’t like me like that.”

He smiles at her hard and takes her hand in his. “You can never have enough friends,” he says.