The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (178 page)

“I know that” Dad said “I knew that a few years ago when you first said you wanted to go to cooking school.”

I’ll confess his response surprised me. “S-So you’re not going to try and talk me out of it?”

He shook his head. “I wish you had a love for business, but you gave it a solid try and that’s all we can really ask of you.”

If I hadn’t been so emotionally messed up I would have reached over the table and hugged him. As it was, I covered up my trembling lip and rocked my jaw back and forth to keep from crying.

“Thanks Dad” I wanted to say more, but it was all my shaky voice could manage.

“And I know what Mom said about the tuition situation. It was a bluff. You know we’ll help out wherever you get in.”

“Dad I—thank you.”

“You’re welcome Kiddo.” He smiled like I hadn’t him do since I was a kid. “Now tell me about this boy your seeing.”

Dad’s visit had been a pleasant surprise, and provided I got into any of the schools I had applied to it was something of a relief to know that wouldn’t have to worry about money right away. Better yet, I wouldn’t have to go to war with both of my parents over my education—and ultimately—my career choice.

As the rest of the weekend went by, I wasn’t as relieved as I should have been. In fact, as the realization that I might never hear from William again—let alone see him again—began to seek sink in, molecules of my depression started floating back into me. If it was from the lack of William, racing, my friends, or a combination of all them I didn’t know and I didn’t bother exploring it. Instead, I let my insomnia do the thinking for me. Every night of the week I’d leave the house looking for any kind of adventure I could find. When that didn’t work or I was too exhausted to search, I’d lay in bed during my free time and relive our one and only night together—committing every second to memory like a recipe.

In the months before I went to die I had perfected the art of crying quietly, so I quickly rediscovered that this wasn’t an issue. But in the two weeks since I had left William standing in his underwear, it wasn’t so much that I wanted to cry but more that I wanted to rage. I wanted to hurt and scorch everything in my path, set things on fire with my eyes and crash cars into every ugly thing. If I had more self-awareness, hadn’t been so stupid, then maybe I could have been with William right then and there, but because I was so afraid of everything I felt I lost him forever.

Once again I hated myself, only this time it was for an entirely different reason.

I watch while the remainder of my heart fell on the floor. And like a slug being salted by a curious child, it withered in agony, oozing a pus-like liquid as it tried to squirm away. Stinking, it bubbled and smoked while chunks of it disappeared. To my credit though, I quickly realized that the new holes were the parts of my heart that had been eaten away. I watched it for a while, watched until it flopped to its side, the ends crusting over and withering away

When all was said and done, the ooze long dried and forgotten. I picked up the remainder of my heart from the floor, feeling nothing when it dissolved to ash in my hands.

This time, there would be no repair.

Chapter 20

Soon, the acceptance letters started rolling in. With my transcripts, internship, and recommendation letters from my counselor and boss I got into both The Scottsdale Culinary Institute, and the San Diego Culinary Institute. I even got into Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Boston but the idea of going anywhere even close to there without William made me sick to my stomach and I ripped up the acceptance letter before I even finished reading it.

Three weeks. It had been exactly three weeks since I had seen William, heard his voice, and those wonderfully stupid dimples of his. How could I have possibly gone so long without knowing where he was or if he was even safe? Sure I checked the papers every day, scoured the internet for more about the heist every chance I got. I even still continued to drive past the chop shop and his apartment without out any results. Regardless, none of it felt like enough.

For all I knew William could have been dead in a ditch somewhere.

Hating my helplessness, I did my best to follow my consoler’s advice to stay productive and do things that made me happy. I thought about potential new resources for getting an adrenaline rush like skydiving and mountain climbing. I couldn’t get even mildly excited for these things, however. Like everything else in life, all I felt was a combination of anger and sadness—all stemming from missing William. Frankly, I was longing for my indifference too—that feeling from the pre-William days that had allowed me to simmer and feel nothing at all.

On the fifteenth day, I had just gotten back from work to find a note on the table from Dad—something about Jersey City and the cable guy coming to fix the satellite the next afternoon. I sighed, fixed myself a glass of chocolate milk and went upstairs.

I was in the shower when the idea came to me. Really, it was sort of perfect. The same sort of perfect that I had planned out like the night I had met William O’Reilly.

Only this time there wasn’t the slightest chance of anyone being around to stop me.

With Mom in Nashville—or was it Charlotte? Atlanta?—and Dad gone now too, there was a good chance that the cable guy might find me before I started to smell. Or, I could just leave the windows open and hope it wasn’t unseasonable warm, turn the AC way up... between an empty stomach, over the counter sleeping pills and the leftover painkillers from Mom’s hysterectomy I should have gone into respiratory distress easily. With enough chocolate milk to coat my stomach lining, maybe I could have even avoided the pain on my way out.

I stepped out of the shower and put on my most comfortable pajamas. It was almost ridiculous how easy it was. To anyone who did notice me, it would only seem like I had skipped class. I wasn’t due to see my consolular until Tuesday afternoon, and although I had never missed a session, she only had my e-mail address anyway.

I went back to the bathroom and brushed out my hair. It was just getting dark outside, but my room was high up enough that none of the neighbors would have seen anything anyway. The pills were easy enough to find in the medicine cabinet too, sitting next to some allergy spray and behind a jar of calamine lotion. I shook each of the bottles in my hands, feeling nothing at the rattle sound they made but liking the clash of color when I poured a handful into my palm.

I still had half a glass of chocolate milk. Before I really started feeling anything I could easily have refilled it, swallowing pill by pill until they were gone. I sniffed back the tears I hadn’t even noticed before.

Yes, there wasn’t any doubt that this attempt would work. Yet despite my anger and sadness I felt no need to die, no desire to do so like when I had first stood on the overpass. Even if I truly never saw William again, he had given me cars and racing, shown me how lovemaking could and should be. And though I thought I couldn’t, I had been capable of making friends again, of being creative and standing up to my Mom. If I could find joy in all of those things, do all the things I never thought I could, then why wouldn’t I be able to do other things?

Why wouldn’t I be able to heal my broken heart?

I took all the pills and flushed them all down the toilet.

I was still crying a little when I got back to my room. I had hoped to cry William all out by now, and though I was still sad, these tears didn’t have half the potency they did when he first left. It was difficult to believe the holes in my heart would ever
really
heal, but maybe I could patch them up—make some high quality band-aids or something. Sniffing hard, I reached for the box of tissues by my bed to see my phone blinking angrily at me. I sighed and collapsed face first on the bed. Just maybe I’d get lucky for once and my Monday morning econ class had been cancelled.

Unknown
: Outside.

Thinking it was just a wrong number I ignored the strange text and slammed my phone to the ground. It felt surprisingly good to embrace my anger. What I was angry about though I wasn’t sure. Before I could even begin to think about it though my phone when off again. I was looking forward to throwing my phone out the window, but what I read there took my breath away, nearly knocking me off my feet in the process.

Unknown
: Right now, Jumper.

I dropped my poor, abused phone and ran down the stairs so quickly I ended up stubbing a toe. Continuing to not care about my feet, I ran outside barefoot, leaving the front door open behind me and my heaving breath in front of me.

“Hello?”

Briefly, it did occur to me that it could have just as easy been Cosmo or Eggs—who had been my number the night of the heist. Hell, though she called me Charlotte, it could have even been Tabby.

Frankly, I would have been grateful for any of them.

“Have you been
crying
Jumper?”

He emerged from behind the only tree in our backyard, standing on an overgrown root and puffing on the end of a cigarette. Wearing a black t-shirt that said Belfast and an oil stained pair of jeans I barely confirmed it was him before I ran into his arms, wrapping myself around him and feeling the most overwhelming love when he didn’t hesitate to embrace me back. And for whatever reason, watching the cigarette fall from his mouth to the ground while he simultaneously held me tighter made me start bawling. It was the second time I had ever seen him smoke, but knowing he only did it when emotional stress out made me stress out. So I downright sobbed, sobbed so hard I was positive the neighbors would hear and think I was being murdered. At this point I didn’t care what they or anyone else thought. I needed him. No, no I didn’t need William to save me. I just needed a little encouragement to save myself.

“Damn it Little Lottie, don’t you know you’re too pretty to be so sad?”

“I’m not sad you idiot!” I wiggled out of his arms and smacked him upside the head as best I could. “You ass! You jerk! You rube! You-you-you—” Laughing, William grabbed my arms when I tried to hit him again. He pulled me close and closed his eyes, burying his face in my hair.

“God I missed you Jumper. You always hurt me so good.”

“Then why did you leave me?” When I tried to hit him again and failed, he chuckled softly and kissed my forehead.

“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have to. Don’t you read the newspapers Jumper?” Chuckling still, I looked up to catch a glimpse of the dimples I had been missing. “Some waitress taking one too many smoke breaks caught a glimpse of me that night. The guys and I thought it would be a good idea to lay low for a little while.”

“Yeah” I sighed “I did read about that.” The memory of my pain made me reach up to slap him again. “But you could have called! Sent an e-mail! Ever heard of the post-office?”

His dimples sent my stomach flipping. “I wanted to. God, you don’t even know how badly I wanted to.”

I
didn’t know? How could I not know? It was all I had thought about for weeks now.

“Everything happened so quickly, and considering how we left things I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me, or maybe it would be better to give you space.”

I shook my head and pulled away. “That was my fault—”

“No.” he said sternly. “It was mine. I practically made you do something you weren’t that into in the first place, and then I told you something you weren’t ready to hear.” Now, William looked at the ground instead of me. His eyes and voice softer somehow though I wasn’t sure why. “I’m just as bad as that asshole who forced you—”

I cut him off by standing on my tippy-toes and taking his face in my hands. Though I loved the way his eyes popped, I waited until later to say it to him. “Don’t you say that to me William O’Reilly. You’ve always looked out for me and never forced me to do
anything
I didn’t want to do. You’re the most generous, kindhearted, honest human being I’ve ever met. You’re the guy that I freaking love, and if you ever compare yourself to something like
that
again, I’ll set your entire car on fire.”

This revived his spirits considerably. His head came back up and his smile grew like it had never been gone at all. When I realized what I said exactly, I grew warm and looked away, ironic, considering how I had almost literally died from lack of love from him.

Sensing my embarrassment William gently took my chin in his hands and lifted my head until our eyes met. There was no escaping his gaze now.

“You love me Jumper?”

Overwhelmed by the lump in my throat, I only nodded.

He inhaled sharply. “Really?”

I pushed his hand away and pushed into William’s arms instead. His laugh was my reward.

“Okay” I dared to look up at him just as he looked at me. “So maybe I love you more than baking and racing combined. What? You want an award or something?”

“You better be kidding Jumper. You loving me is the best thing I could have ever asked for, better than any car I’ve driven, or any finish line I’ve ever crossed. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to get over you only to breakdown completely. But if you love me, I get to have a life again.”

Unsure, I pulled away from him. “D-Does that mean you’re coming back to the area?”

“No, no none of us are. Because of all the auto theft the county is starting a new task force. We’re selling the shop and starting over.”

“That’s why your still here.” Sure, that made sense. William and the guys needed to get rid of their apartments and sell the shop. If Tabby was going with Eggs, then she would need to search for a new job, the guys would have to see where else street racing was popular before settling down... “...Your here to say good-bye.”

William shook his head as if angry. “I’m
here
to ask you to come with me.”

Taking a full step back, I studied his expression for lies. In the early dark of night, however, I feared I only saw what I wanted to see: sincerity. “W-What?”

“I was thinking about going home, to Boston. We can go anywhere we want, of course. But I think you’d really like it there, it’s a big food town and between my share of the shop and selling Mary—”