In the Wake of Wanting (57 page)

“Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“Wonder?” I ask her. “No. It makes me sick.
He
makes me sick.”

“But the polarity of it.”

“I don’t like considering any similarities that he and I may have shared.” I swallow hard. “I’m nothing like him.”

“Of course you’re not. That’s what I’m saying. Exactly what I’m saying.”

“Our backgrounds weren’t so similar. Sure, we both had money. Yeah, we went to private school. We both like to write. That’s where the resemblances end. I would never have guessed he would do such horrible things, but I
would
believe him to be disrespectful to women. That’s something I’m not.”

“Why were you friends?” she asks. “You had to have something in common.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I pledged Sig Rho, and he was a member. We were both on
The Wit
staff. It was enough to make us think we had things in common. The fraternity makes you think you’re joining a group of like-minded individuals. Anyone can lie taking an oath, though. And allegiances are easily broken, or so I found. I walked away feeling disillusioned that someone like Asher could be a part of that organization, and then they all spoke out against me.”

“Have you ever been afraid to stand on your own?”

“No,” I tell her. “Not when it’s the right thing to do. And not when it matters.” She pushes against the chair to kiss me on the cheek, then turns a page in the notebook.

“There’s more.”

For weeks I waited, patient,

Affections understated

Commonalities celebrated.

In the wake of wanting,

I found friendship, kinship

An underlying hope of courtship.

While our friends fell–

A yell, then silent– 

Never tell, in their own hell,

at the hands of a violent

Imposter. Someone they trusted.

In the wake of wanting

Attention, affection, love–

Scars and tears and fears carry on.

But can
they
?

I stare at the page, moved beyond words. Beyond thoughts, really. The ink on the paper blurs into a mess of black smudges against the off-white lined grain.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Joel interrupts the moment of quiet contemplation.

I start nodding before I look up at him, my eyes watering. I feel immense reverence and respect for the woman sitting next to me, but also realize quickly the depths of her I have yet to reach; have yet to know. I’m impatient and feel a sense of urgency to learn everything about her because there are monsters like Asher who prey upon caring, optimistic, loving people like Coley and have the power to alter them at such a level that the person with me today could be completely unrecognizable after a traumatic experience brought about by the Asher Knoxlands of the world.

In fact, she has probably already been changed by him at a fundamental level from her public exposure this past weekend. Already, she’s not the person I met. Not the same person I knew last week. The one I made love to last Friday. The one in the video, even. He’s already stolen away parts of her I’ll never know, and that realization is crushing to me.

I don’t want to lose any more pieces of her.

I unfasten her seatbelt and take her hand in mine, leading her into the small room in the back of the plane. I don’t care what my parents or her brother think.

After I close the door, I gesture for her to sit down on the bed and then take my place next to her. My hand behind her ear, I kiss her deeply, staving off emotions I’d wanted to hide from everyone–including her. When we part, I lean next to her, touching my temple to hers as I run my fingers through her hair. “I love you, Coley,” I whisper, then press my lips to the side of her head.

“What's wrong, Trey?”

“What’s your greatest fear?” I ask her, needing to know all the things about her she’d never shared with me before.

“Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.”

“No,” I tell her, appreciating her attempt at levity with a chuckle, but returning to my question. “Seriously. Your greatest fear. You’ve obviously overcome
that
one.”

As she glances up at me, the sun catches flecks in her blue eyes. I study them intently as I wait for her answer.

“Not leaving my mark. Passing on from this life and being… forgotten. Not doing anything of significance.”

“I think you’ve overcome that one, as well.”

“The fucking video doesn’t count,” she says bitterly. “That’s not even funny.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,
Knee-jerk
,” I tell her.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “It’s been on my mind. I’ve been worried that…
that’s
my legacy. That maybe I should have just taken the underwear model job and called it a day.”

“Laureate.” I drop the notebook that I’d brought with me onto the bed and point to it. “You’re writing your benefaction to the world in this book–and probably countless others just like it. You don’t need to worry about fading into nothingness when you’re gone, Coley. That
one poem
made my pulse cease. I stopped breathing. It left me feeling… fractured. Horrified.”

“Didn’t you like it?” she asks, unsure.

“Was that not your intention? To provoke genuine alarm and anxiety? Women were raped and silenced by their own fear. Silence that led to more people being hurt. It’s devastating. Surely it’s how you want the reader to feel.”

She nods.

“It’s deep, Coley. Deep-rooted. Hits you in your gut. It’s brilliant.”

“Do you like the contrast of it?”

“I could pick it apart and analyze it all day,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her. “It’s the contrast that makes it so shocking. Because it seems so light and innocent before it turns on you and wrenches you in the side; stabs you in the back. Betrays you with its ugly, foul visuals.

“You want a Pulitzer for your poetry? It’s going to be yours someday. Mark my words, laureate. You may
actually
be a poet laureate someday. Maybe I knew it from the first poem I read of yours.”

“I don’t think so,” she whispers. “My sonnets sucked snow cones.”

“Your sonnets did
not
suck snow cones. Your sonnets meant so much to me that I locked them in my safe when I got home that day. I didn’t want them to be discovered by someone or lost or destroyed. The fact that you thought
anything
of me back then made me feel like the most important guy in the world. I wanted to be everything to you.” I swallow after telling her this. She reaches behind my neck and pulls my head toward her for another kiss. “What’s your favorite flavor of snow cone?” I ask, my smiling lips still pressed against hers.

“Raspberry.”

“Who had the biggest influence on your life?”

“Nyall,” she says quickly. “He wanted to be a rapper when he was younger. We used to write together. He taught me about free verse poetry.”

“Why don’t you two still do that?”

“Because he sees no future for himself anymore. He’s depressed, Trey. Nobody shares their talents at the hospital, and if he were to write, I have no doubt it would be dark shit…”

“And discouraged by the nurses, I’m sure,” I comment.

“It’d probably get his meds increased or changed or something. I told you I send him things that I don’t think he reads.”

“I guess I can see why… I guess. But I think he would be so proud of you, Coley. Maybe you should push him to read some of them. Be more active. It could inspire him.”

“I don’t know…”

I nod my head. She knows his treatment better than I do. “What’s your biggest dream for the future?” I ask.

“Why all the questions?”

“I just want to know everything… everything about the girl I fell in love with.”

“I want a long life that’s filled with love and good health,” she says. “I see my brothers and realize how lucky I am. How close I’ve been to tragedy all my life, but somehow managed to escape it. It can only be luck, and it can’t last forever. I dove side-by-side with Joel when he lost his hearing. I was fine. I went with Nyall many times to his friend’s house, and no one ever laid a hand on me.

“And now, I avoided Asher just by trusting my instincts to stick with you. But in the realm of love, every boy I ever dated broke my heart. Derrick cheated on me, but all the others before him found other reasons to break up with me. I never ended a single relationship. I always give everything to make things work.”

“I can’t even fathom why…” And I can’t.

“A couple reasons. One: my depression. Guys get personally offended when things they do ‘don’t make me happy.’” To emphasize her point, she uses air quotes. I nod my head, showing my empathy to her plight. My mother has been through bouts of depression at different points in her life, and I’ve come to understand that–at least in her case–she just needs a little time and space to work things out. “The other reason? I love quickly. Passionately. Fully. And it scares guys off.”

“That doesn’t scare me. All I know are relationships–the committed kind. I don’t like the idea of casual dating,” I confess to her.

“Those are my big flaws. That’s why I can’t keep a boyfriend. Well, there was one guy who didn’t like my ‘obsession’ with you.” I laugh at that admission. “But I love being in love, Trey. I seek it out and have been willing to overlook a lot.”

“What do you overlo–“

“Nothing,” she interrupts, then shakes her head. “I haven’t had to overlook anything with you. You’re what I’ve always wanted. What I’d hoped you’d be. You’ve never once let me down. In fact, you surpass my expectations all the time.”

“No one’s ever broken up with me,” I tell her. “So if this ends, you’ll be the first to do that.”

“I just told you–I give everything to make things work.”

“Well, I’m going to do everything to give you what you want throughout your long life, Coley: love and good health. I’m going to give everything to make it work, too, because being in love with you is the only way I see myself being anymore. I understand depression. Just tell me what you need, if you can. If you can’t, hopefully I’ll learn. And I’m glad you fell quickly, passionately and fully. I was never alone–from the moment I met you. I knew you were with me. Even when I had to tread away. Absolutely, my thoughts stayed with you.

“And honestly, it was never okay. It was simply what had to be done, but it felt wrong. And not wrong in that I shouldn’t be feeling things for you while I was dating someone else, but wrong in that I wasn’t allowing nature to take its course. I believe we’re supposed to be together, laureate. Forces bigger than us worked to put us together. All we had to do was obey.”

“Gladly,” she says.

“I’ve always been good at following rules,” I joke with her.

“I guess we’re stuck with each other?” she asks.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not leaving,” she vows. “I love you so much.”

Our kissing leads to lying down on the bed, where we make out until the pilot announces our descent and we head back into the main cabin to fasten our seatbelts. Coley apologizes to her brother, but he stayed busy reading a book while we were gone. Dad leans into the aisle to give me an aside glance, then signals for me to fix my hair. He nods once it’s in place and goes back to reading on his iPad.

At the hospital, I spend the first half of my visit touring the facility with my parents, making notes of things I would want to change if I was confined to live here. Mom had asked for my input when they decided to investigate it as their next charitable undertaking. Everything is spotless today, cleaner than I remember it being last time. They only found out my parents would be coming yesterday when they requested the walk-through, but it’s obvious a lot of effort was made to make the place look brighter and friendlier.

When Mom and Dad decide to sit down with the director, I join Coley, her brothers, and Nyall’s doctor in the main room where they’re all communicating in sign language. Her oldest brother stands up and shakes my hand, then signals to Joel to make room for me on the couch across from him.

“Bring your shorts?” he asks me, ignoring the rest of the conversation they were having.

“I did.”

He looks anxiously at his doctor as he stands and takes off his shirt. He’s already got his swimming trunks on. “Your brother and sister were talking to you,” she says to him.

“We can chat for a bit,” I suggest, not wanting to interrupt their family session.

Nyall throws his shirt at Joel and signs while he speaks. “Come talk to me at the pool. Trey and I are gonna race.”

“Not without me,” Joel says.

“You guys aren’t leaving me out, either,” Coley adds. “I know I can beat Joel, at least.”