Our Song (32 page)

“But there’s something you don’t know.” I swept my tongue across the inside of my cheek where I had bitten it so many
times over the last few months. It was finally starting to heal. I sat up straighter, swallowed hard, and told Annie everything about that night. About finding Betsy’s bra in Derek’s room and his reaction. And finally, about losing my virginity to him right before. She held my hand and listened. My throat burned when I was done. “You must think I’m an even bigger idiot for taking him back after all that.”

“I don’t,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Now I understand why.”

Then I told her about Nick showing up sopping wet at my door, how even after everything he confided about Theo, I still chose Derek. “But when I saw him talking to Betsy tonight,” I explained, “something snapped. It wasn’t jealousy. I just felt like I was going to suffocate if I stayed a minute longer. So here I am now. A total mess.” I wiped my face into my dress. “I guess it’s what I deserve for not learning from my mistakes.”

“But you have learned. You stood up for yourself and you didn’t stick around when it didn’t feel right. Don’t you see, Ol? You have changed.” She let out a laugh. “I just wish I could have seen the look on Derek’s face when you ditched his sorry ass in his rented tux.”

I smiled. “You’ve got to admit it’s a little extreme that I had to die to learn what a jerk he was.”

“I don’t know,” Annie said. “I think you were starting to change a long time ago. I mean, you were the one who walked out that night, right? If you didn’t have the accident, you probably would have realized it a lot sooner. But then, you would never have met Nick.”

“I turned him away when he needed me most,” I said as reality sank in.

With a glint in her eye she released my hand. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

I followed her into the bathroom, where she slipped out of her purple silk dress.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, laughing.

“You’re right. You’re a mess and you can’t go see Nick in whatever that is.” She dismissively pointed at my dress. “So hurry up and take it off before I freeze to death,” she said, standing half-naked in the middle of the sticky linoleum floor. “We’re switching.”

I WAS BACK
on the front walkway, only now I was wearing Annie’s dress. Even though she was about three sizes smaller than me, it somehow fit, the folds of the purple silk draping around my body like it was made for me. With my hair down and the layers of caked makeup washed off my face, I felt much better. I felt like myself again.

With the rain still pelting down, I hurried toward the driveway where our driver said he’d be waiting for us. I scanned the row of identical black stretch limos when a pair of headlights flashed twice.

The driver stepped out and came up the path with his umbrella. This time I didn’t refuse. I was grateful for the dry cover as he escorted me back to the car.

I got in and settled into the same spot in the back. A pink petal from my corsage was stuck to the leather cushion.

“Over already?” the driver asked, sliding down the divider.

“Something like that.” I picked up the petal and caressed it between my fingers.

“Are we waiting for anyone else?”

I slid forward on the seat, anxious to get going. “No.”

“Then where to?” he asked, peering at me through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know the address,” I said, opening the window a crack. “But if you take me to Bel Air I can show you how to get there.”

He nodded, made a U-turn, and started heading toward the freeway. The limousine drove up the slick on-ramp, spilling us out onto the 101. All five lanes were practically empty.

“It sprinkles a little and everyone acts like a hurricane’s coming,” the driver chuckled, his Southern accent emerging. “I’m from New Orleans, where practically every house comes with a row boat. But look at it here. A ghost town. Just means we’ll get there faster.”

Even though it was coming down harder now, I lowered the window. I liked the way the wind felt, whipping my hair back so my face could absorb the raindrops. “It can’t be fast enough.”

“In a hurry, huh?” he said, nodding knowingly. “What’s his name?”

Startled, I glanced toward the front and met his eyes in the mirror. “Is it that obvious?”

“In my line of work, you learn a thing or two about the heart.”

“His name is Nick.” Just saying it gave me butterflies.

He glanced back at me again and studied my face. “You made the right call leaving the dance.”

I released the petal out the window and watched it get carried away in the wind. “I know I did.”

The city lights glittered in the distance. I looked up at the hills to my right, trying to get my bearings. “It’s the exit after this one.”

Even though I couldn’t name the streets, the route was embedded in my memory. I was more certain of every turn the closer we got.

“Make a right at the light up ahead, next to the gas station.” I remembered because it was the last sign of civilization before Nick’s. The rest of the way was entirely secluded. “When you get to the top of the hill, veer left and take the road as far as it’ll go.”

“Got it, doll.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, it finally hit me. Annie was right. I had changed. For the first time, I was making my own decision. I was trusting myself.

“Is this where you want to be?”

The car idled at the end of the road and my heart soared. The tall, black, wrought iron gates were wide open, as if Nick was expecting me.

“It is,” I said, reaching my arm out the window. The rain had stopped and an unexpectedly warm breeze blew in. “I’m going to walk the rest of the way.”

He put the car in park. “Should I wait?”

I gazed up at the full moon, a perfect circle. “No.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think so.”

I watched the car’s red lights retreat down the street until they disappeared, then started down the path. The wall of trees
that stretched out on either side of the private road seemed taller and more densely packed up close and on foot. Not even moonlight penetrated the thick foliage. The wind picked up, shaking free pools of rainwater that had collected on the leaves. I lifted my face up toward the sky and opened my mouth, letting the cool, swollen drops land on my outstretched tongue.

I began to run toward the house, kicking up sticks and pebbles along the way. A branch whipped past, scratching my cheek, but I didn’t care. The burn even felt good, a reminder that I
could
feel again. And I realized why: my heart was no longer broken.

The trees began to thin out when I passed the empty stables. Off in the distance, I spotted Nick’s car parked in the same spot by the water fountain. I ran even faster now, past the meadow of overgrown weeds and grass. Gravel crunched underneath my feet as I raced up the driveway. Not even the sharp pebbles biting through the thin soles of my soaked shoes could stop me.

The house was dark and silent. When I reached the front door, I took a deep breath and rang the bell.

No answer.

I rang again.

Silence.

I banged the brass knocker against the weather-beaten red door. I slammed it again and again, so hard I thought the old wood might crack.

Where was he?

Finally, the lanterns on either side of the door lit up, bathing me in their soft glow. I looked down at my mud-splattered
dress. I couldn’t help but smile. Now I was the one showing up on Nick’s doorstep like a wet puppy.

But my smile began to fade when Aunt Bea appeared at the door in her robe.

“Olive,” she said, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Get yourself inside before you catch cold.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” I stammered. “I came to see…” My heart began to sink before I could get the words out. The answer was written on her face.

“I’m afraid he’s already gone, dear. Back to England,” she said, perceiving my devastation. “His flight left half an hour ago.”

“He’s gone,” I repeated, the words detonating inside me like bombs. Was he on his way to the airport when he came to see me? Was he planning to leave all along? The alternative was too painful to contemplate. “His car…” I muttered, pointing to the beat-up Jag, parked at an angle as if he was coming right back, but nothing else came out except a steady stream of tears.

Aunt Bea ushered me inside to a cozy room off the foyer. The last few embers of a fire crackled in the fireplace, their low flames casting distorted, wavering shadows against the dimly lit walls. She went to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a cup of tea. It was just like the tea Nick had brought me that day. I sipped it slowly, but not even the hot liquid or the warmth of the fire could stop me from shivering. It reminded me of the time when I was nine and had gotten lost out in the rain on my bike. A stranger found me crying on the side of the street and took me in until my father arrived ten minutes later with a cup of hot chocolate.

“You can stay the night,” Aunt Bea said, handing me a blanket. “There’s plenty of room.”

I smiled weakly and politely declined, realizing there was one person I wanted to call.

My father arrived less than an hour later. He didn’t ask about my tear-stained face, where Derek was, or how I had ended up so many miles away.

“You can explain when you’re ready,” he said as we pulled away from the property. Through the side mirror, I watched the black gates disappear behind us.

As we merged onto the freeway, I suddenly had an image of my dad at my age, driving down a road like this one. “How far did you get?” I asked.

“I’m not sure I follow,” he said, confused.

“I mean when you drove across the country.”

“Oh, then.” He sighed like he hadn’t thought about it in a long time. “Not very far. Just to Kansas.”

Kansas always made me think of
The Wizard of Oz
, especially the part at the end when Dorothy wakes up in her own bed, surrounded by the people who love her, and that’s when she realizes that after everything she’s been through, there’s no place like home. I was beginning to understand what she meant. I wondered what Nick called home, if he felt he still had one or if Theo’s death had destroyed that, too.

“Do you still think about it? Do you ever wish you never came back?”

“No, never,” he said emphatically. “It was stupid to have taken off like that. When I found out your mom was pregnant,
I was scared about life changing so fast and I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it. But you can’t stop it. That’s just life. It’ll go on with or without you. And I realized I didn’t want to miss it. The adventure didn’t mean anything without your mom.” He glanced over at me. “Or without you.”

I looked out the window. The wind stretched the remaining raindrops into long, diagonal streaks across the tinted glass.

“I know about the hotel,” I suddenly blurted. “I know that’s where you’ve been going at night. That you’re not really working late.”

I couldn’t believe I said it, just like that with no build-up or warning. But it felt right, like another weight was lifting.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m not judging you.” And I wasn’t. “I just thought you should know that I know.”

My dad paused for a moment. He turned on the right turn signal and eased the car over one lane. The windshield wipers squeaked back and forth.

“That night, when we got the call…” His voice trailed off and he tightened his grip on the leather wheel. “I thought I lost you. Your mother and I both did. Even though you survived and even though the doctors assured us you were going to be okay, I still had nightmares. I’d wake up at all hours of the night screaming, convinced you were gone. That’s why I started going to the hotel. So I could sleep without worrying that my nightmares would disturb everyone. Especially you and Noah.” His eyes glistened, pooled with tears. “But they’re over now.”

“Does Mom know about any of this?”

“Of course,” he said, laughing. “It was her idea.”

I looked down at Annie’s ruined dress and at my red toe peeking through the hole on the tip of my shoe and started to laugh with him. “So what’s Mom going to think about all this?” I asked, gesturing to my appearance.

“The same thing I do,” he said, glancing over at me. In that instant, I imagined him laughing just like this nineteen years ago, speeding down another highway. “That you’re growing up.”

• • •

When we got home, I quickly got undressed and went straight to bed.

When I woke up, it was still dark out. It took me a second to notice that I was no longer in my bed. I was floating. When I looked down, I could see someone lying motionless on a small patch of grass beneath a tree, off to the side of the road, surrounded by twisted red metal and broken glass.

That’s when I realized who I was looking down at: me.

The distant sound of sirens filtered in. As they got closer, spinning red lights reflected off the wet asphalt below. Even though my eyes were closed, I could see the moon radiating through the leaves. Gravel and dirt filled my mouth but when I inhaled, my breath flowed freely. Big, fat raindrops splatted down on my face. One after the other they fell, steady and constant like a leaky faucet. When I reached up to wipe my cheeks, they were dry.

An ambulance arrived. A team of paramedics spilled out and got to work.

No pulse…we’re losing her…she’s gone…keep at it…don’t give up…

Their muffled voices overlapped, reaching me in a whisper. When I looked down, the ground was barely visible, my body now a small speck, swallowed up by the darkness. But I was still drifting away like a balloon, higher and higher into the sky until I came face-to-face with the light. It was so blinding it canceled out everything else, all sight and sound and existence, like the inverse of a black hole. The light was warm and loving and drew me in closer until it enveloped me tight like a cocoon, like I could stay that way forever: weightless, illuminated, free.

A voice wafted in, an irresistibly wistful voice that whispered two words in my ear.

Let go.