When Cicadas Cry (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Past (1.5 Years Earlier)

Ashley

“D
o you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I ask.

“The cicadas. They’re crying,” Rem whispers.

I listen. And as if it’s for the first time—even though I know it’s not—I hear them. I hear the loud vibrations of their wings beating like trains rushing down a track. The sound is continuous, a continuous stream of echoes and beats. And when you focus on it, it almost becomes deafening.

“Why are they crying?” I ask, whispering near his ear.

He sits back against the wooden porch railing, and I, by default, fall deeper into the little place he’s made for me between his arms and legs—the little place I’ve grown accustomed to possessing.

“Because they know...” He stops for a moment. His words are low and fragile, like a poem or a sad song. But I stay silent as the cicadas’ cries slowly engulf us. And I wait. I’ve heard this sad song before.

“Because they know immortality...yet not eternal youth,” he continues.

I look up at him, and his light eyes catch on mine. At the same time, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I love it when he does that.

“They cry because we have what they want: To be mortal,” he recites. “See, there was once this Greek god named Tithonus, and he loved the Greek goddess, Aurora. And one day, Aurora asked Zeus to make Tithonus immortal just like her, so they could live together forever. But she forgot one thing.” He presses his lips to my cheek. “She forgot to ask for eternal youth for Tithonus as well,” he whispers low and near my ear. “And so, Tithonus grew old and lived forever bound by the chains of old age. And eventually, old Tithonus turned into a cicada and spent the rest of eternity despising his immortality.”

I let a couple moments pass, feeling the warmth of a sunny day gone by lightly pushing over our faces.

“Where’d you hear that?” I eventually ask.

“What?”

“The story?” I say, a little too breathy, a little too moved.

“Oh.” He seems to think about it. “I don’t know. That story is probably as old as this town. I can’t even think of a time I didn’t know it. Everyone around here knows it.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling my shoulders relax again.

“It’s just a story. Don’t worry, I don’t believe it; I’m not crazy.”

“No, I know,” I say, smiling again. “I like the story.” I take a breath and reach up and run my fingers through his dark hair. I don’t tell him I’ve heard it before. I just close my eyes and let my head fall back against his strong chest, and I listen to the cicadas’ sad cries.

“I think I’d take immortality even if it meant I wouldn’t stay young forever,” I say, after a moment. “I think I’d just be happy knowing that I could be with the one I love forever.”

“That sounds nice,” he says, wrapping his arms around my ribs and pressing his lips to the top of my head. “But the thing is, we have breath in our lungs and joy in our hearts and time on our minds. ...See, we don’t have forever; therefore, every moment is precious. Every moment means somethin’.”

I replay his words in my head. I want to believe them. They sound so beautiful tonight. But I know as well as any that if I lost him tomorrow, I would still be wishing for eternity with him. I love him so much. It’s like I can feel him in my bones. It’s as if I can feel him becoming a part of me, a part of my DNA. I love him. I love that he’s not afraid to walk around with my name written on his heart for everyone to see. I love that he makes me laugh—that he says things like,
I’ll be
and
damn near
. I love how confident he is, yet how shy and awkward he can be, too—and often times, in the same breath. And I love that he loves his family and his friends. I know he’d do anything for them, and it makes me believe he’d do anything for me, too. And I know it sounds simple, but he also makes me feel...wanted. No matter if I’m wearing dirty cowboy boots or five-inch heels, he acts as if he just can’t get enough of me. And what girl doesn’t want that? He’s a surprising human really. And I thought I’d met Forever in the past, but it turns out, Forever was waiting for me all along in a little town called Ava.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Present

Rem

I’
m at my kitchen table. It’s Saturday afternoon, and I haven’t left this room all day. Her book is in my hands. I picked up where I first left off before I had the talk with Jack. I think I knew all along that I’d read this book as fast as I could. I think I just wanted Jack to tell me not to. I wanted him to tell me it was okay to not want to hear how my story ends. But of course, Jack didn’t do that. And deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. So, here I am, watchin’ the pages of my life unfold through two characters I only met a couple days ago. Some parts are hard to read. I try to skim over those words as fast as I can. But other parts, I read more than once, like the part when they go mushroom huntin’ for the first time, or the time they have their first kiss near that black river. And I think I read the part where he asked her to dance that very first night no less than four times.

Then, all too soon, I get to the last page, and I turn it. And my eyes immediately go to followin’ over the final few sentences in the book:
 

I know it’s not supposed to be painless. I know all that matters is that it was worth it—that it was worth the white scars we carved into each other’s hearts, that it was worth the story we so painfully, yet happily, etched, in our own handwriting, onto the fragile surface of our souls.

But was it worth it? Was it worth it, knowing that now, you and I will be marked in eternity? Was it worth it, knowing that someday, the angels will see our hearts, and they will read our souls, and they will know? They will know that we once shared this life—that on this earth, though we walked apart, our hearts and our souls walked side by side.

Yes, I know; it isn’t supposed to be painless. Love isn’t supposed to be painless. It’s supposed to be worth it. But all I wonder still is: Was it worth it? Was it worth all the pain? Was it all worth it...to you?
 

I turn the page.
 

The End.
 

I read the last two words before slowly closin’ the book. And for a long time, I just stare at the white wall in front of me. I think I’m expectin’ somethin’ to happen. I’m half expectin’ the wall to move or for her to come through it, as if she had been watchin’ me read the pages of our life this entire time. Or maybe I’m expectin’ my world to crash in on me or to wake up and realize everything I once knew is all just a dream or some well-written story. But none of that happens. None. Of. It.

So, instead, I just sit here and stare at the wall, while every one of my veins and every one of my bones and every inch of my mind fills up with the words:
Was it all worth it...to you?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Present

Rem

“O
kay, what’s up? What did you want? I had to put clothes on for this. And I couldn’t find any clean boxers, so I’m also goin’ commando under these old sweats here, so...”

I stop him right there. “Jeez, no thanks for the visual there, dude,” I say.

He takes a seat in the chair across from me. Hall’s is quiet. It’s the usual Sunday night. The juke box is playin’ some old song, but other than that, there’s not a soul makin’ a noise.

“I read it.”

That’s all I say. And then I sit back and watch his face go from tired and apathetic to a damn, lit-up Christmas tree.

“Well, what’d she say?”

“Now, you boys aren’t up to any trouble, are ya?” Kristen sets a bottle down in front of Jack.

Jack slips his elbows onto the table and smiles up at her. “Now, when have I ever been up to trouble?” he asks.

“Last week, you were drag racin’ that Fischer boy from Tipton,” she says, with her hands on her hips.

Jack just looks at her with amazement written all over his face. “I swear, girl, you know me like a book you read a thousand times. Why aren’t we married already?”

Kristen rolls her eyes and sets her gaze on me. And not even a second after lookin’ at me, she cocks her head to the side. “You’re talkin’ about Ashley, aren’t you?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “What?”

She turns to Jack. “Every time he wears that face, it’s her name I’m hearin’.” She directs her attention back over to me. “It’s really no secret, sweetheart.”

“All right, you got us,” Jack says, throwin’ up his hands.

“Damn it, Jack,” I say, droppin’ my eyes and shakin’ my head.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kristen says, layin’ her hand on my shoulder. “I already knew it.”

She leaves us then, and I just frown at Jack.

“She never calls me
sweetheart
...
or
baby
,” Jack says, his eyes followin’ after her.

I ignore him because he’s apparently ignorin’ me. And hell, I don’t talk about Ashley, and I definitely don’t talk about her enough to have a “face.”

“Hey, Kris, you got any food still back there?” Jack calls out to Kristen.

“Kitchen’s closed,” she shouts over her shoulder.

“Anything?” he begs.

It’s quiet then, and his eyes eventually land back on me. “Okay, so you read it?”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “She or Jen ends up...”

“Jen?”

“Yeah, the main character,” I say. “Her name is Jen. But anyway, she ends up...”

Kristen comes back and tosses a bag of chips onto the table.

Jack looks at Kristen with what looks as if it’s adoration, but I can’t tell whether it’s sarcastic or real. “I love it when you cook for me, baby,” he says.

Kristen waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t eat ‘em too fast. That’s all you’re gettin’.”

Jack tears into the bag, throws his head back and empties half the chips into his mouth. Meanwhile, Kristen turns to me. “You know, you fly too close to the sun.”

I laugh. It might sound nervous, but it’s a laugh, all the same. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.”

“Damn it, girl.” I laugh some more. “Quit speakin’ in riddles.”

She smiles and shrugs her shoulders. “Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you. All I know is that she left. And don’t get me wrong. I loved Ashley, and I don’t understand why the two of you aren’t together. I always pictured you gettin’ married and havin’ babies. I even had a dress picked out for the wedding ceremony.” She pauses before continuing. “But if she hurt you, Rem, she’s fire, and you should just let it be.”

“Kristen,” I say, “Ashley’s not fire...at least, not in that way.”

Jack quickly makes eye contact with me and gives me a proud smile, and we both chuckle under our breath.

“Rem, there is no other way. Fire is fire,” she says, with a soft smile.

A heavy sigh involuntarily replaces my grin. Sometimes, I wish they all knew the story. They all suspect I’m innocent here, and I’m not. And I’d be happy to set them all straight, but Ashley didn’t even want me to know her secret, so I just don’t feel right tellin’ it to anyone.

“Thanks for the talk, Kris,” I say.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, grabbin’ a can of salt off the bar top. I watch her as she goes to fillin’ up the little white bottle on a table two down from ours.

“All I’m sayin’ is that when your past calls, don’t answer,” she says. “It’s got nothin’ new to say.”

I laugh again, but it’s not sincere. I know one thing: She hasn’t talked to my past lately.

I tip the bill of my cap in her direction and return my attention to Jack, who’s just finished off the bag of chips.

“Does she have a quote book back there or somethin’?” I ask.

“Probably,” he says, not at all fazed. “Okay, so what’s the verdict?”

“The book doesn’t end.”

“What?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t end.”

“How can it not end? Don’t all books end?”

I feel my shoulders shrug. “Not this one. I mean, they don’t get back together, but they don’t
not
get back together, either.”

“Hmm.” He sits back and gnaws on his bottom lip.

“But she signed it,” I say.

He looks at me as if he doesn’t understand. “Okay?”

“She signed it with:
Was it?
”

“Was it?” he repeats.

I nod.

He raises his shoulders and gives me a puzzled look. “Was it, what?”

“Well, I didn’t know what she was talkin’ about when I first looked at it. But then I got to the last page, and right before the book ends, Jen—the girl—asks the guy if it was worth it—if it was worth bein’ with her. And as far as I can tell, that’s the only question in the book like it.”

Jack’s eyes grow big, and I can tell he takes a quick, even breath. “Wow,” he says, noddin’ his head. “Are you supposed to answer that?”

I shake my head and sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Wait, why is she askin’ you that? I mean, you clearly loved her, and if you loved her, it was at least worth
a go
, right? So why is that even a question she’d be askin’?”

I don’t say anything.

“You did.” He cocks his head. “You did love her? Right, Rem?”

I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“But how could she not know that? You two were like freakin’ Johnny and June or somethin’. There isn’t one person in this town that doesn’t know you loved...” He stops. “No, wait a minute. Let me start over.” He holds up a finger. “There isn’t one person in this town that doesn’t know you
still love
Ashley Westcott.”

I don’t say anything. I just go to gnawin’ on the inside of my cheek.

“But her,” he adds, sittin’ back even further in his chair. “Everyone knows but her,” he says again.

Silent moments tick out between us.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “Why is that, Rem?” His look has turned accusing all of a sudden.

I take a deep breath and then force it out just as fast as I got it in. Then I look around the bar. Kristen’s in the far corner now, still fillin’ up those little white bottles with salt. She’s not in earshot, and there’s no one else in the bar. I put my hand to my mouth, hold it there for a second and then let it drop to the surface of the table. All the while, Jack’s got this stare on me as if he’s preparin’ for what I’m about to say. And maybe he should be.

“What did you do, Rem?”

I shake my head and stare at a tiny hole in the table’s wooden surface. “I didn’t
do
anything.”

Jack sighs.

“It’s what I
said
right before she left,” I confess.

“Wait a minute. So you know why she left?”

I don’t answer him. I figure that’s answer enough.

“This whole time...,” he goes on. “This whole, damn time that we’re all sittin’ here wonderin’ why this girl just turned in her keys, closed her bank account and left town, you knew why?” He pauses to push out an exhausted-soundin’ sigh. “Rem, what did you say?”

I look up at the ceiling and squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment. “I told her I never loved her.”

“What?” He practically shouts it. My eyes snap open, and at the same time, Kristen’s gaze cuts in our direction. I lift my hand and shake my head to let her know it’s fine. It seems to work because she goes back to doin’ what she was doin’.

“What?” Jack says again, as if I didn’t hear him the first time. Thankfully, this time, he doesn’t shout it.

“I was mad. And she was lookin’ for a reason to run. I just thought I’d give it to her.”

“What?” He runs his hand through his hair, looks around and then fixes his eyes back on me. “Why? Why were you mad? And why was she lookin’ for a reason to run?”

I try to laugh, as I haphazardly shrug my shoulders. “That’s the million-dollar question in this town, isn’t it?”

“Damn it, Rem!”

He’s getting impatient now.

“I’m like your best friend. Aren’t I supposed to know this stuff? Best friends are supposed to know shit that no one else knows about you, right?”

I breathe out and just stare at him for a second. I really don’t know why I never told him. I know he would have kept Ashley’s secret. But then again, I’ve never told anyone. Of course, nobody’s ever really asked, either. Either they’re too damn scared or they just like believin’ their own versions of the truth better than the truth.

“What did she do?” he asks.

My eyes fall on Kristen in the corner again. They stay there for a few seconds. I watch her spill some salt onto the table. She takes a pinch and throws it over her shoulder. Then she brushes the rest of it onto the floor. I notice the clock next. It’s just a simple black and white office clock, set fifteen minutes fast, hangin’ on a tan, wallpapered wall that otherwise would be empty. The second hand on it ticks out several, rhythmic beats before my eyes fall onto a rerun of an old game on the small TV above us. Then there’s nothin’ left. There’s nothin’ left to help me avoid his question.

“She was in love with someone else,” I say, under my breath.

Both his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything at first.

My heart is racin’, but somehow, there’s this calm that flows through my veins. I’ve never said that out loud.

“She cheated on you?” He looks as if he can barely get the words out.

“No,” I quickly say. “No, she didn’t cheat.”

Thin lines appear on his forehead. “Then what in the hell are you talkin’ about?” he asks.

I fold my arms across my chest and look for the answer on the ceiling. Then after a few moments, I level my gaze back on Jack. “Owen,” I say. “She was in love with Owen.”

Jack might as well have seen a ghost. His face goes completely white, and his jaw hangs slack.

“How?” he asks.

I feel my cheeks puff up before I forcefully push the air past my lips. “Before she moved here. In Minnesota. At school.”

Understanding seems to, all of a sudden, wash over him. His hand is loosely rested up against his mouth now. Otherwise, he’s as stiff as a board, his eyes planted on somethin’ across the bar, until his gaze darts back to me. “The postcards?”

I just nod my head. “It was her.”

“Wow,” he says, seemingly takin’ it all in, piece by piece—just like I had to a year ago. “Wow, I’m sorry, buddy. That...I didn’t see comin’.”

I sit back and let out a long sigh. “Yeah,” I say, “well, neither did I.”