The Rules of Regret (37 page)

“
I feel so awful for Paul and Sarah.
”
I
’
m sure she did. She knew exactly what
it was to lose a child.
“
And
Lance. Poor Lance.
”

“
I think out of all of us, he
’
s got it easiest. He doesn
’
t have the hard work of being human
anymore.
”

She
smoothed down my hair with a palm and tugged me close to her chest.
“
Being human is hard, but I do think
it beats the alternative.
”

I
shrugged visibly, and let her hold me there for a bit, leaning into her,
knowing she needed this just as much as I did.
“
That honestly depends on what you
think the alternative is.
”

***

It
was all tucked neatly into two shoeboxes on the top shelf of my closet. That
was it. It all fit in there: a half dozen dried corsages, two albums of
photographs, a couple of letters (he wasn
’
t
a big letter writer), a small stuffed animal we
’
d won at a carnival junior year, and
a handful of newspaper clippings featuring Lance and his parent
’
s image in black and white print.

What
I had left of Lance fit into two boxes. What was physically left of him fit
into a box buried six feet underground. Had he been cremated, that box would
have been even smaller. And what of those people whose bodies weren
’
t even in tact when they died? Like
if you died in some explosion, there wouldn
’
t even be anything left of you to
even have a box. That thought, however horrifically morbid, really made me sad.
Everyone deserved at least a box.

I
stared at the two containers on my shelf, grateful for what was hidden in them.
I did love Lance, and in a way I knew I always would. And I didn
’
t think I
’
d ever really get over him, so maybe
he
’
d
always own a piece of me. Maybe I
’
d
never be completely whole.

Every
recent memory I had involved him in some form. Some memories were good, others
were bad, and a lot were just mediocre, which was how our relationship had
evolved; the downward slope toward breaking up. But the memories were a part of
me and a part of him, so I held onto them. It felt like having those memories
in my grip was the only way to make things good again. In my mind, I could go
back to when things were good with Lance and remember that. I would choose to
do that, because I hoped that when I died, others would choose to remember the
good in me, too.

I
slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, glancing around the room, taking a final
inventory. It really hadn
’
t
been my room for quite some time. My younger sister, Natalie, had taken it over
while I was at college, but whenever I came back home, it was where I slept.
There were still a few things here that were mine, but most of what was left of
me blended in with Natalie
’
s
posters, her books stacked high against the far wall, and her cosmetics strewn
across the dresser. It was funny how what was once solely mine morphed into
someone else
’
s.
I couldn
’
t
tell where the blur between Natalie and me started, but it was there and this
room was a weird amalgamation of that.

I
bounded down the stairs, the weight of the bag bouncing along my back as I
approached the landing. Chris, my oldest brother, passed me on the way up,
shifting his shoulder slightly to slide by, nodding his nearly-shaved head my
direction without looking up from his phone. That was his goodbye to me, I
figured, and I wondered if it ever occurred to him that maybe it could be our
last.

Of
course it hadn
’
t
occurred to him, which was good, because he was normal. He didn
’
t think of life in lasts. He probably
just thought of life in the present and that was the way it should be.

No
one else was home, so no other
‘
almost
’
goodbyes took place on my way out
the door. I tossed my bag into the back of the Jeep and fit the key into the
ignition. I
’
d
made a run to the store earlier and my stash of junk food littered the
passenger side. I was ready for this.

He
wasn
’
t
expecting me for another three weeks, so the entire drive I felt that
giddy/nervous sensation that wasn
’
t
all completely mental, but it was physical, too.

I
knew I loved Torin.

I
couldn
’
t
describe it in a way that others would get, like those common phrases,
‘
It was love at first sight,
’
or
‘
We
were meant to be.
’
I didn
’
t
think I really believed either of those things. They felt too simple for the
emotions evoked when I thought about him. Words, even though there were an
endless amount at my disposal, couldn
’
t
be arranged into my feelings. At least I couldn
’
t do that on my own, with my limited
vocabulary. I knew I
’
d
have to borrow someone else
’
s
for this one.

I
began the drive in the morning, and by early afternoon the Jeep was rounding
the turn into Quarry Summit, the dirt road kicking up copious amounts of dust
under my tires, the once-formidable evergreens rising up on either side of my
vehicle, framing me in like a welcoming hug.

He
was up ahead in the distance, and my body reacted to the sight of him instantly
as he inched closer into view. He was shirtless, shoveling some loose gravel at
the edge of the parking lot, and the sun wrapped around his body, defining his
tone and muscular form. He brushed the sweat from his brow at the same moment
he caught sight of my Jeep. Like nothing else existed, he dropped the shovel
from his grip
—
almost
throwing it
—
and
raced toward me as I killed the engine. His hand was at the handle to the door
before I could push it open and his mouth was on mine before I could even say
'hi.
’

He
tasted like sweat and salt, but I dove right in, my lips curling with his, my
back arching as he bowed over me.

“
What are you doing here?
”
he gasped, an excitement in his eyes
that made every hour of my lonely, carb-fueled car ride up here worth it.

“
I had to tell you something.
”

“
And it couldn
’
t wait three more weeks?
”
His lips met mine once more, this
time teasing them apart so his tongue could slide in. My legs went all Jell-O
and my heart started a hundred meter dash. I pulled away, lightheaded and
dizzied.

“
I have one rule in my life,
”
I said, pushing my back against the
driver
’
s
side door. Torin
’
s
hands slid into the back pockets of my jeans.
“
To live without regret.
”
I lifted a hand to his chest and
pressed my palm onto his heart.
“
I
haven
’
t
done a good job with that so far. I figured I should start now.
”

He
shook his head a little, his hair tossing side to side.
“
What do you regret?
”

“
Honestly, in life, a lot of things.
But with you, not many.
”
It was strange, but with Torin, I seemed to do and say what I felt without
keeping much in. Regret came when you held something back. With Torin, there
was no holding back.

“
That
’
s good. No regrets.
”

“
That
’
s beyond good. And that
’
s why I didn
’
t want to wait the three weeks to see
you again. I would regret that.
”

“
I
’
m glad you didn
’
t wait.
”
He shot me a smile and pulled me
into a hug that was almost a headlock. As he breathed into my hair he asked,
“
So what is this potentially
regret-inducing thing you have to tell me that can
’
t wait?
”

I
very nearly cleared my throat.
“
We
’
re born alone, we live alone, we die
alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the
moment that we
’
re
not alone.
”
My shoulders lifted in an insecure shrug and I added,
“
That
’
s from Orson Welles.
”

“
Yeah.
”
Torin nodded, but seemed a little
unaffected.

“
You make me feel less alone in this
illusion we
’
ve
created,
”
I clarified as Torin squinted down at me. His hair was definitely blond in this
moment with the sun highlighting it in slight golden waves. I wondered how red
mine probably looked in this same lighting.

“
That
’
s a really tragic quote, Darby.
”

I
didn
’
t
think he
’
d
say that. In the many ways my brain played this all out, that was not one of
the reactions.

“
It
’
s not meant to be tragic.
”

“
See, if you
’
re going to do this whole quoting
thing, you have to choose the right material.
”
He held me at arm
’
s length, but I wished he
’
d tuck me back into his chest just so
I didn
’
t
have to maintain eye contact.

“
I thought that
was
the right material. I felt alone; you make me feel less alone.
”

“
I couldn
’
t disagree more with that statement.
”
His tone was unwaveringly
no-nonsense and I started to feel stupid. And angry. Mostly with Orson Wells
for saying something that made so much sense to me, but apparently none to
Torin.

“
We are not born alone. We are born
out of love between two people, and even in the instances when that ideal isn
’
t the case, we
’
re still born
from
someone.
”
He started in with the reason and logic, which I found pretty darn attractive
because he was speaking my native tongue.
“
And
living alone? Couldn
’
t
be further from the truth. We cannot live in a vacuum.
”
He shook out his frustration and his
hair skated along his jaw.
“
The
dying thing? Maybe... that might be the only instance we
’
re ever alone, but even on our
deathbed, we have life
’
s
memories to keep us company.
”

He
paused.

I
waited. I didn
’
t
say anything and secretly hoped the Jeep
’
s
door would magically spring open and swallow me into it. This vulnerable thing
was hard. Even harder when it wasn
’
t
received the way I
’
d
envisioned.

“
The illusion isn
’
t in pretending we aren
’
t alone, the illusion is in
pretending it
’
s
ever possible
to
be alone.
”

“
I really thought I had something with
that.
”
I sighed.

“
I think you did,
”
he assured.
“
Absolutely. But your interpretation
was a little off.
”