Living With Regret (10 page)

“I have something for you,” he says, pulling a small white box from his front pocket.

My hand comes up to cover my mouth, holding back the girlish excitement that wants to escape. He slowly lifts the lid, giving me an eyeful of the simple silver bracelet it holds. The chain is thick with a plate nestled in the center that reads LOVE. It’s beautiful.

“Can you put it on for me?” I ask, holding out my wrist.

“Do you like it?”

“No, I love it.” I bite my lower lip to keep my smile from growing any bigger.

“There’s something I want to show you first.” Turning the plate in his fingers he shows me the engraving on the back. It’s our initials C + R.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, watching as he pulls the chain against my wrist and clasps it between his fingertips.

When he’s done, he turns it so the plate is at the top. “When I saw it, I thought of you. Now, when you see it, you’ll think of me.”

“I always think of you.” Standing up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his cheek. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like our future is forever.

The only time I took that bracelet off was to shower or swim. It was just as much a part of me as he was, but I feel like it belongs to him. So that it doesn’t get swept away or stolen, I dig up a small mound of dirt and drop it in before covering it up.

Next, I pull out a picture of us. Not just any picture, but a copy of my favorite. It was the summer between our junior and senior years, and we’d gone swimming with a group of friends. I was in a royal blue bikini my mom warned me not to wear, and he was in his black swim trunks. We both look happy, like we could live out in the water for the rest of our lives and not have a care in the world. It was when we were at our best, before life started to get in our way. I prop it against his grave, knowing it won’t last long out in the elements, yet wanting him to have it anyway.

Last is a promise in the form of a small diamond ring. He’d given it to me on the evening of my eighteenth birthday, and at the time, I thought the story of my life had been written. Cory. Me. College. Wedding. House. Kids. At one point, it was all I thought about.

“Are you coming?” he asks, laying a blanket out on his truck bed.

The night sky is clear, stars shining brightly, and the air smells of fresh-cut grass. “Some of us have heels on,” I reply as I pull myself up on the tailgate to join him.

“Well, some of us have a birthday present for our girlfriend that we can’t wait to give her.”

Cory hasn’t forgotten one birthday or anniversary since we’ve been together, and I’m lucky, because he always puts thought behind his gifts.

He sits, patting the empty space between his legs. “Come here.”

I crawl to him, stopping when I’m nestled safely between his legs. “You already bought me dinner.”

He brushes my lower lip with his thumb before kissing me slowly. “That was just an appetizer,” he whispers as he pulls back.

Reaching in his back pocket, he holds out a small black jewelry box. It’s smaller than the one my bracelet came in a couple years before. My heart skips as I open it and see a small diamond ring shining back at me under the moonlight. “Cory!”

He pulls the ring out, visibly nervous as his eyes find mine. “That first night, when I asked you out, I didn’t think it would lead us here. I didn’t expect to find the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with so young, but I did. With this ring, I’m not asking for forever. It’s a promise that someday I will, though. I can’t imagine spending a single day without you.”

My eyes gloss over as I search for words even half as meaningful as his. “The only thing I know I need in my future is you.”

The words pale in comparison to his, but what does he expect when he leaves my brain a mangled mess.

“I love you,” he whispers as he slides the gold band on my finger.

“I love you, too.”

That night was unexpected, but I floated on a cloud for a long time afterward. And like everything else, I felt that promise fading when we entered college. We were out of our environment, and as we each started to find our own interests, we became less addicted to each other. For me, there was always hope, but now that he’s gone, the hope and promise are both gone.

Digging another small hole, I drop the ring in next to the bracelet. In a perfect world, I would have left them inside his casket, so they could really be close to him, but this will have to do.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come out here.” I don’t have to turn around to know who that voice belongs to. Cory’s mom was never the easiest woman to get along with, but she loved her son. I could always see it in her eyes, in the little things she did for him. He was her pride and joy, and I took him away from her. “We didn’t even get to see him after he died. It had to be a closed casket.”

This is a small town, and it was inevitable that I’d run into her at some point, but I hadn’t fully prepared myself for what I’d say. In fact, hearing her now, I’m scared to death. I took something invaluable from her, and if the roles were reversed, I’d be scared of me, too.

“I remember when he was a little boy. He used to run around in nothing but his diaper, a pair of cowboy boots, and a straw hat. He always had a huge smile on his face, especially when his daddy came home from work.”

This isn’t helping. I’m falling apart, piece by piece. I know Cory was loved. He had more friends than anyone else I know, and I didn’t just lose him … I took him from them, too.

“A couple years ago, when he told me he thought you were the girl he was going to marry, I laughed. He was too young, had too much life to live, but he wouldn’t hear it. I didn’t think it would end like this.”

Gathering up all the strength I have left in me, I turn to face her. She’s a fraction of the woman she was before, thin and frail. Her long, dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and a trail of tears run down her pale cheeks. “I loved your son more than I loved anything else on this earth,” I cry, covering my face with my hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, and I’ll never forgive myself because it did. I could say I’m sorry a million times over, but it won’t bring him back.”

I hear her shoes crunching against the dry grass as she steps closer. “Someday I hope I’ll be able to forgive, but I can’t do it with this much pain in my heart. It hurts too much right now.”

I let my hands drop, looking up again. “If you never do, I’ll understand, but I need you to know that I loved him. I wish … I wish I knew what happened that night. I wish I knew why I got behind the wheel of that car, but all I can do is say I’m sorry.”

“I wish to God that was enough to bring him back,” she cries, crossing her arms over her chest as if to chase away a chill.

“Me too.”

She nods, swiping the back of her hand across her cheek. “I have a small box of things at home for you. I’ll send them with your mom the next time I see her at church.”

“You don’t have to give me anything.”

“I think it’s all yours.”

I’m imagining a box full of things I’ve given Cory over the years, another box full of memories that I’ll have to go through and relive. “Thank you,” I say softly, glancing behind my shoulder to read the words etched on his grave again.

“I’ll let you finish what you came here to do,” she says, walking away before I have a chance to reply.

I’m in shock. I figured she’d yell at me, and tell me what an awful person I am, but her subtle approach was worse. It makes my heart even heavier knowing how much I took from her. I can’t replace him. There’s nothing I can do to make it better.

I thought I could handle this, but it’s too much at once. The cemetery. Goodbyes. Cory’s Mom. Memories. I’ve had as much as I can take.

Looking at Sam, I wave my hand up in the air. He hops off his hood and quickly walks in my direction like he’d been holding himself back, waiting for my invitation. He’s a protector, but he also knows how important it is for me to find my own strength. It’s part of the healing process. It’s what makes us come out of situations like this a better person than we were before. He knows it because he’s been through his own trail of mud.

Turning back around, I press my palm to Cory’s name and whisper, “I love you” one more time before Sam’s feet appear beside me. His hands cradle my elbows, pulling me up from the ground, and when his face comes into view, I crumble into his arms. I don’t know if it is minutes or hours, but we stay like that, his hands rubbing small circles against my back while I cry into his T-shirt.

“Are you going to be okay?” he finally asks.

“No.” I want to say yes, but I’m not feeling it just yet. Time is all I really need right now.

July 7, 2013

IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS
since I visited Cory’s grave, and while I’m still having a hard time picturing myself living a normal life again, I haven’t spent every single day crying. Little things I see or hear remind me of him. Memories are constantly being triggered. When that happens, I find a quiet place to think, to sort out the feelings that are whirling around inside me. For the rest of my life he’ll always be a part of me. He’ll always own some piece of me—one I can’t get back or even want back.

For some reason, I’m here and he’s gone, and instead of dwelling on the pain in my heart, I’m going to try to live a life that will make him proud. I’m going to figure it out … whatever it takes. Life doesn’t always give you a second chance, so when it does, seize it. If you don’t, you might always regret it.

After being stuck in this house with my mom, I’m realizing that the key to discovery doesn’t lie inside here. I’ve never been much of a homebody, and if it weren’t for books, I’d be going crazy with all the downtime. It merely gives me more time to think, and the more time I have to think, the more heartache I feel. I need to find a way to get out, or I’m going to find myself falling into a deeper dark hole. I don’t think anyone would blame me, but I was saved to do more than that.

I’m hoping that a trip to the field today will begin to fill the emptiness inside me. It was once my happy place. Maybe it can cure me again.

“Rachel, I’m leaving!”

“Okay. I probably won’t be here when you get back,” I say, avoiding her steely blue eyes.

She stops, turning toward me. “Where are you going?”

“Sam’s going to pick me up.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him an awful lot lately. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Sighing, I sit slowly, bracing my hands on the arm of the couch. “Give me one reason why it isn’t a good idea.” I stare into her eyes, daring her to deny me this little bit of freedom. Besides, I’m twenty, so there’s not much she can say about what I do or who I hang out with.

“Maybe you should call up Madison and see if she has plans. You need to find a way to get back to your old life.”

“Madison’s been busy with work and summer classes. Besides, Sam is part of my past, too.”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else as she pulls her purse from the table by the door and disappears outside. She wanted to argue with me—it was written on her face—but she knows I’m not the girl I used to be. I’m not going to smile. I’m not going to put on some nice clothes and walk around town like nothing’s wrong so she can brag about all the good things I’ve done when all I can think about is the bad.

Glancing up at the clock, I see I have a few minutes before Sam arrives. I haven’t seen him since he took me to Cory’s grave. For a couple of days after, I retreated inside myself, staying in my room and listening to slow, sad songs—turns out they’re the kind that make tears fall faster. I swear the melodies and words—draped in a cloak of meaningful sadness—draw emotions out of me with magnetic force.

We’ve texted back and forth every evening, and when he mentioned last night that he wanted to take me out to the fields, I felt the workings of a smile on my lips. It’s a place full of butterflies and tall grass, a place where a person can hide amongst the better things in life.

A place that feels more like home than any other place I’ve ever been.

He knew I wouldn’t tell him no … I knew I couldn’t tell him no. Maybe it was a cheap trick, but it doesn’t matter to me.

When I hear the purr of Sam’s engine coming toward my house, I slip on my flip-flops and tighten the bun at the top of my head. Wanting to surprise him, I get to my feet and walk to the old screen door just in time to see him coming up the sidewalk. As soon as he sees me, a smile lights up his face, and he takes the steps two at a time to get to me quicker.

“Looking good,” he says, standing on the opposite side of the screen.

“Wait until you see my real tricks. This is nothing.”

He laughs, running his fingers through his longish blond hair. It separates him from most of the other guys in town. He’s not the clean-cut guy you bring home, but more like the guy you’d see behind the drums of a grunge rock band. But what really sets him apart is his eyes. Soulful. Chocolate brown. Luring. “Should I get an ambulance on standby?”