A Season of Eden (24 page)

He didn’t move. Barely blinked. Deep down I knew I’d blown it. Panic seized me. I wanted to twist back time, go back to the chapel, to the piano when he’d looked at me as if he couldn’t create another note without me being there.

“I’m sorry,” I plead again.

He sighed, sadness and resolve creeping into his eyes.

“I am too.” We sat in the parking lot of Starbucks, the sound of traffic rushing by us. Laughter filtered through the air every time the door to the place opened. I refused to move, to make any motion that this moment was final, trying my best to hold onto it.

He got out of his car, walked around and opened my door. If I got out, everything would be lost. We wouldn’t talk about this. I couldn’t save the moment and convince him I wasn’t too young, I could do this. He stood back, eyes locked with mine in a goodbye that neither one of us wanted to validate with words.

I got out on shaky knees.
Open your mouth, say
something!
My mind raced for words. None came.

Silence wouldn’t change the truth.

“Can’t we talk about this?” I asked.

“Another time would be better for us both, I think.”

Another time? That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

I was not the kind of person who waited for anything.
Ever.

I could see that he was set on waiting. But how long?

He went around to the driver’s side and got in his car. My heart broke and shredded, the pieces falling somewhere inside me.

He backed the car out. I was unable to move. To breathe.

He pulled out of the parking lot, the image of his old grey car blurring through my tears.

I drove home in a daze, trying to block out the memory of the stupid things I’d said. Trying to remember the way he’d looked at me in the church. The way he’d kissed me. Touched my face.
“I want to play your body
like an instrument.”
His words whispered on an endless, tormenting stream through my consciousness.

I could change his mind back. This wasn’t over. He said we’d talk another time and we would. I’d make sure of it.

But the ache of loss pounded inside of me with each heart beat.

I opened the door of my house and took in a deep breath, finding the familiar scents unique to 26000 Paseo del Mar comforting, with everything falling apart around me.

Dad’s car was in the garage. The sight made me feel a little better, but I walked through the house without saying anything. Darkness beyond the glass doors of the back of the house called out to me and I soon found myself walking around the perimeter of our darkened pool, towards the cliffs.

My mind flashed to James and me on the beach. A violent wave of regret crashed through me.

It was over.

I stood surrounded by black night. Stretched out before me an inky sea crashed in brutal rhythm against the rocks below. Clouds blanketed the sky, making the seam where the ocean met the horizon a blur of onyx.

Cold fog fingered my bare legs and I shuddered. Despair gouged its way into my heart. How could I have screwed things up so badly? I’d gone after what I wanted, something I was accustomed to doing with success. Failure wasn’t my pattern. James hadn’t come right out and dumped me with words, but his acquiescence had delivered a blow far more final. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t seen that look before:
how
could you say that
? It’s just that nobody, not even Dad, ever had the nerve to make me face my own words.

I thought about Matt, about the many times I’d just said what I felt like saying, knowing he’d take it. Even after I told him it was over and he tried to come back, he still let me say what I wanted. It left me with a false sense of power.

Brielle, Stacey, even Dad took what I tossed out. I guess I was used to it. I figured because I could get away with it, I could always get away with it.

James’ face came in my mind. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears but they coursed down my cheeks.

“Eden?” I whirled around, shocked to see Dad behind me. “What—” When he saw my tears glistening, he quickly came over. “What’s wrong?” He set his hands on my shoulders and I closed my eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong. What is it?” He brought me against him. The contact burst the old well buried deep inside of me, the family well I’d sealed shut when my mother died. I wept against his chest.

I expected him to be tense but his body was simply there for me. He ran his hand over my head like he had years before, right after Mom had died and I’d cried to him.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. But it’s not because I don’t want to talk, it’s just… I was really stupid and did something I regret.”

“We all do that.”

“I know, but most people can fix things they break.”

“And you can’t fix this?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There are some things that can’t be repaired.” I met his gaze. Sadness crept in his eyes. “Those things we have to live with. Those things teach us. But you’re young. There can’t be anything out there that you can’t change.” He dipped his head and gave me a smile. “Is there? Come on, I know you.”

I wanted to smile back but my heart was shrouded with the heaviness of reality. “I really can’t fix this, Dad.”

He put his arm around me and led me back toward the house. “I’m positive that you’ll find a way. You always get what you want.”

I sighed, leaning against him. It was cool that he’d come out after me – something I would never have expected.

His words offered me hope. Hope was the best thing I had at that moment. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could fix things.

My cell phone was ringing when we got back inside.

Dad let me go and for the first time, I didn’t leave him feeling like it would be the last time I was ever going to see him. Not because something might happen to either one of us, but because when my mother died, I really never saw
my dad
again. Things between us changed. He nodded with a smile, watching me click on my phone, then he disappeared into the kitchen.

I hoped it was James. That I would be able to apologize for my stupid comment and talk it out, but the caller ID said Brielle.

“Hey.” I heard faint sniffling on the other end and found a private corner of the living room. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s over.”

I wanted to pound Matt. “What happened?”

“I saw him… with another girl… she goes to Cal State Long Beach! How did he even meet her, you know? He was supposed to be mine!”

“I’m sorry, Bree.” I opened my mouth to tell her, ‘I could have told you,’ but that would have been taking a giant step back into the kind of mire that had messed things up between James and me. I opened my mouth to start railing on Matt and realized that wouldn’t do her any good either. The last thing I wanted was for someone to tell me how wrong all of this James-and-me thing had been in the first place.

“How do you know she’s from Cal State?”

“Josh told me.”

“He told you? What a jerk.”

“I pulled it out of him. He didn’t want to tell me, Eden.”

“So, you saw Matt with her?” I asked.

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll admit, I was stalking him. But he’d been acting weird and I wanted to know why.”

I could tell her why, and as my mind ranted all the reasons, I tried to think of what I could say that would make her feel better, not worse. “Maybe it’s nothing. It could have been nothing, Brielle. Are you sure he—”

“They were kissing out in front of his house!” She started crying again. I felt sick for her.

“Did he see you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Have you asked him about it?”

“He won’t answer any of my texts or calls.”

My head was ready to explode with expletives about Matt and what a jerk he was. Her sorrowful weeping brought a sigh from my chest. “You should have called me.”

“I tried, but I only got your voice mail.”

“Oh.” I’d been creating my own crisis, I realized. “I was deep in something. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I want to go by his house. Do you think I should?”

“The last thing you should do is beg.”

“But I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

“Brielle, he doesn’t feel the same. He was kissing some other girl, an older girl even.”

“Why? Wasn’t I good enough?”

“You’re great enough for any guy. He’s dumb, that’s all—a retard. He isn’t good enough for you.” Her silence made me think I’d convinced her.

“Maybe you’re right,” she sighed.

“I’m totally right.” I could have unloaded right there about James but that would never happen, not while I still held hope I could repair the damage. I wondered if I should go by his house… call him.

“I’m going to go make myself barf,” Brielle joked.

“Purging always cleans the soul,” I said. She was too anxious to get off the phone. I knew where she was headed—to Matt’s—but then, who was I to tell her not to go? “Hope it makes you feel better,” I said.

“It will.” She hung up.

I looked at the phone. Talking this out with James would make me feel better, that was a given. I dialed him and got his voice mail. His heavenly voice only opened the fresh cut in my heart wider. Knowing he would see my name on his cell phone, I couldn’t very well disconnect without leaving a message, I’d look ridiculous. “Hey, it’s me.

I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Call me… please, James.”

I held the phone against my breast, closed my eyes and prayed he’d call.

“Everything all right?” Dad’s voice forced my eyes open. He stood just in the doorway of the living room.

“Uh, yeah. Brielle.”

He stood awkwardly for a moment, then tilted his head. “She okay?”

“Yeah. Or she will be once she realizes she’s better off.”

“Must be about boys.”

Brielle—boy. Me? Dad would flip if he knew I’d been seeing a man. “Yup, it’s about boys all right.”

“Well, that’s your department,” he winked. “I’m going to be in my office.”

“Okay.”

He disappeared again. The phone buzzed against my chest. My heart skipped when I read the caller ID: James.

I clicked it on. “Hey.”

“Hello, Eden.” His voice was soft, but void of his usual cheer. My heart plummeted.

“James, I wondered if we could talk.”

“I think we both need some time.”

“I really want to talk. Please. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” I paced the corner of the living room.

“Tonight’s not good for me. Tomorrow at school—”

“School? I can’t wait until then, James. Please. I really need to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean it will happen, Eden.”

I stopped. Awful silence stretched between us. He wasn’t going to let me see him tonight and I lowered myself into a nearby chair. I was going to have to live with this wretched blackness eating away at me for who knows how long. Nausea rolled in my stomach and up my throat.

“Okay,” I managed. I realized then that he’d been nice to even answer my call. He could have ignored me. I didn’t say anything more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. The phone clicked in my ear. He was gone.

I was tempted to wear one of my real hot outfits to school but James would see right through that, so I didn’t.

I settled on jeans and a red Palos Verdes Viking hoodie.

How I looked was irrelevant. James didn’t see me in the same light boys my age did, anyway. That realization both thrilled me and haunted me as I walked to school the next morning, because how James saw me was the deciding factor in whether or not I could save what I’d blown.

I hadn’t slept. I’d laid in bed all night with warped, wild thoughts of James, of Matt. Of Mom.

I got to school an hour early. I wanted to see him the second he got out of his car.

His classroom door was locked, so I sat down on the cold cement hall floor and waited, thinking about what I would say. I had to convince him that I would never say something so juvenile again.

Closing my eyes, I took myself back to when he’d played that song for me. Taken me to the church, a place he considered special—reverent— shown me what my influence had done to one of his creations. He’d been inspired by me, enabling him to complete something unfinished. I tingled. That was significant. And then he’d kissed me, another kiss that had come from some important place deep inside of him. A place I wanted more than anything to explore.