Pieces of a Mending Heart (23 page)

             
I’m shocked to find that the ride only takes ten minutes. “Hey,
you knew there was a short cut?”
I accuse.

             
His deep, throaty laughter sends bubbles into my stomach, more intense than butterflies. “Of course I knew there was a shortcut. Sometimes the long way is more fun,” he says,
resting his chin atop my head for a moment before dismounting the steed.

             
I cross my arms, trying to look angry, but the cute grin on his face makes it impossible not to smile back
, but I roll my eyes anyway
. He grabs my hand, helping my dismount, and Dino walks over to a patch of especially green grass before flopping down on his side with a thud.

             
“He’s a strange animal,” I say, but the horses head snaps up and our eyes connect as he huffs a snort, leading me to believe he heard me. “But a very smart one, yes,” I say in a cooing voice while nodding my head, still looking at him. Tristan laughs, his whole body shaking and the sound reverberating off the trees.

             
We walk over to a patch of grass in direct sunlight, plopping down on the soft earth.

             
“So, how about you tell me what happened last night,” he says, lying down on his back, stretching his arm out to the side, inviting me to do the same.

             
I lay next to him, our sides touching and his arm a soft pillow beneath my head. He smells like summer, somehow: sunshine, grass, and cinnamon that blend together to form a scent distinctly male. His body feels good, natural next to mine and I rest my head closer to his shoulder as I explain the vision.

             
Ten minutes later, Tristan’s breaths have picked up speed and he’s got that “I’m deep in thought” look on his beautiful face again.

             
“So? What do you think?” I ask when I can’t take the silence anymore.

             
He sighs, using his free hand to rub his closed eyes. “Honestly Katie, I have no idea. And I don’t think that any amount of thinking or hypothesizing is going to get us anywhere. If we’re meant to find out, which we obviously are, we just have to wait for more clues. This is maddening. I can’t believe it has to be you seeing these things! Why can’t it be me? You’ve been through enough as it is,” he says, sounding frustrated.

             
“Like you haven’t?” I say, sitting up. “Don’t doubt God; he knows what he’s doing.”

             
Tristan sits up too, looking at the sky. “I’ll never doubt Him; I saw Him with my own eyes and
have
seen things that are unexplainable. I’m just aggravated that it has to be you.” He touches my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m supposed to protect you. What if you get scared?”

             
I look at him sideways, taking a risk with my next words. “I don’t need you to take every burden. Some things, by dealing
with them, make you stronger. How do you think we are who we are right now?”

             
He looks away from me again, nodding. “Did you ever think that… you would ever heal this quickly?”

             
I know he doesn’t mean physical healing, but rather the internal kind. “Not in a million years would I have ever thought it would be so… easy. I thought I’d have to deal with my Punishment for years, but He only punished me so I would know when I found you. Because you took them away. The emotions, that is.”

             
And it’s true; I never thought healing would be so simple. I’ve read books and seen movies where people spend years recovering from debilitating depression, but it only took me a few months. Granted my case is a spectacular one. Miraculous, even. It’s shined a new light on my life like nothing ever has before. My heart was so mangled, so cracked and broken, that I thought the pieces would never click together again.

             
I trust God, but I thought he was angry with me for taking the life he gave me. Maybe I misread him entirely and he wasn’t mad. Perhaps he has an ulterior motive.

             
“Tristan, have you dated a lot of girls?” the question literally pops out of my mouth before I think twice, the conversation with Malaya floods back into my mind.

             
He looks shocked, confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. “Uh, dated? No. I’ve never actually dated anyone,” he says as he runs a hand through his light hair.

             
“Malaya cornered me in the hallway the other day and warned me about your womanizing tendencies. But you were only a sophomore, so how could you have dated the whole school? Unless you’re some sort of ‘super-player,’ then I suppose that would explain things,” I babble, a nasty tendency I have when I get nervous or feel threatened.

             
“Katie, I’ve never dated anyone. Have I been with girls before? Yeah, I have. Am I happy about it? No, I’m not. Would I ever do that again? Not for any amount of money in the world. Don’t listen to Malaya; she’s
has the potential to be a nice
girl, but she gossips like a grandma,” he says, sounding too innocent.

             
Been with girls? Does that mean… “Wait, you’re not a… virgin?” the shock seeps into my voice, along with hurt, which is irrational. Of course he had a life before me; I had one before him. Granted it was a rebellious one, much like his was, but I never went as far as sleeping with someone.

             
He takes a deep breath, obviously not happy with the change in conversation. “
I am, but barely
. Katie, you have to understand that I was a different person. For me to come back to this town after I was arrested, caught with drugs, found curled on
my bathroom floor and sent to a psych ward…” he shakes his head. “For me to come back here is like the black plague hitting. But for me to come back an entirely different person than the guy this whole town knew me as?
”

             
He covers his face with his hands for a moment before continuing.
“
That’s like the apocalypse. Nobody knows what to think of me, or you, for that matter. But I think we shouldn’t talk about this; the past
. We were both different people now,
and
who we were? T
hey don’t matter anymore. If they
did
,
we wouldn’t be here. Lit
erally, we would’ve died when
we wanted to. Obviously we were brought back for a reason. But why us? What makes us so special? Thousands of people die every day, but
we
got second chances.
Us
, who everyone thinks are the most undeserving people of all! I suggest we focus on making it count.”

             
He looks slightly winded after his lengthy speech, and I’ll admit I’m pretty intimidated. The conviction in which he spoke is so strong that I feel it seeping into me and I feel a sudden urge to cry. Why
did
we get a second chance? Not to be self-deprecating, because I’m pretty proud of the person I’m becoming, but what’s so special about me? It doesn’t make any sense. There are suicide victims all over the world who don’t come back.

             
“Why do I always seem to make you cry when I’m trying to do the opposite?” Tristan says, watching me from his position.

             
I didn’t even realize the tears had slipped out, but now that I know that they have, I let them fall. He pulls me towards him and I climb into his lap, momentarily stunning him. His hands freeze in the air, but then caress my head, like a mother would a child. That somehow makes the tears fall faster, knowing I never had this as a child.

             
I feel the fluttering of his lips against my forehead, lighter than a moth’s wing. The gesture makes me tip my head up in search for more, but when I go to press my lips against his, he leans away. This act of rejection burns through me like fire, sending a rock into the pit of my stomach and fresh tears to my eyes. I push him away, but he just grabs me again. I don’t know why I’m crying anymore. I’m not this weak and I don’t like the feeling of vulnerability.

             
“Katie,” Tristan says as I try to quiet my breathing. “Katie, look at me,” he says louder, grabbing my chin lightly in his hand, turning my head so he is looking me in the eye. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re upset. I don’t want it to be a security gesture,” he says, though I’m confused as to what he means.

             
After a few minutes, my pathetic blubbering simmers down and I lay back on the grass, hands folded together on my stomach, staring at the crystalline sky. There are no clouds anymore, and the sun is shining brightly. For a long while we just lay there, listening to one another’s breaths and not thinking about anything in particular.

             
“You okay now?” Tristan asks with his voice steady and strong. Like always.

             
“Yes. Sorry,” I say, completely embarrassed.

             
I don’t need a boy to hold me when I cry; I’m just so used to doing it alone that I can’t resist the arms of a friend. The word “friend” makes me want to scream with frustration, and my cheeks grow red remembering his rejection. A few more minutes
pass and I watch the sunshine pass through
the leaves of the trees, making a very natural and beautiful pattern on the ground.

             
“Katie?” Tristan asks, sounding unsure.

             
“What?” I say, not unkindly.

             
He shifts, moving into a sitting position, staring at me, like he’s thinking. The wind blows, pushing up his hair and ruffling his button down shirt. He looks like a model, bathed in sunlight with eyes so blue that you think you’re about to drown
in the ocean
. Without warning, he leans over me, his arm reaching
across my body before resting his hand on the ground on the other side of me. He doesn’t speak and neither do I, for this moment is so perfect I dare not disturb its
flawlessness.

             
“If Malaya asks, will you tell her I’m your boyfriend?” he simply says, but shockingly, it doesn’t break the spell. The beauty of his voice lulls me deeper into peace.

             
I nod and smile, knowing I
already
told her that.
“If Scott asks, will you tell him I’m your girlfriend?” I reply, my voice sounding surprisingly sweet.

             
He smiles, moving closer, leaning over me until his head is blocking the sun. “The word is inaccurate, but it’ll do. It’s a hell of a lot less of an explanation,” he winks.

             
By now, he’s nose to nose with me, his eyes locking on mine with an intensity I’ve never seen before. The woods go silent and all I can hear is my heartbeat in my ears and my small intake of breath as his lips caress my cheek, just at the corner of my mouth. My eyes automatically close as he kisses my other cheek, his lips just barely touching mine.

             
I open my eyes for the briefest second to find him directly over me, but I snap them shut before I wake up from this dream. His lips hover over mine until I can’t stand the separation anymore and I put an arm around his neck, pulling him to me. Our
lips meet for the first time and bursts of white shine behind my closed eyelids.

             
I remember hearing a quote at some point in my life that went something like this: “It was not my lips you kissed, b
ut my soul
.” I think Judy Garland said it, but whoever it was, thank you.

             
It feels like every word shared
unshared
is flowing between Tristan and I. It feels like every birthday wish I ever made, every dream I ever had, every beautiful thing I’ve seen or heard or tasted or felt is combined into this kiss. I always rolled my eyes at girls who thought they had found the love of their life in high school. Those girls who would kiss a boy and lose all common sense.

             
I am the world’s biggest hypocrite and proud of it. I am “
that girl
” who
knows
she found the love of her life in high school; who just lost all common sense and every shred of doubt. This feels familiar, as though we’ve done it countless times before. My tongue caresses his lips and he sighs, so I grip him tighter, thinking he’s about to pull away.

             
He isn’t. He merely readjusts himself so that he lays closer to me, deepening our kiss in a way that is both innocent yet loving. I feel safe trapped in his arms, like nothing the world has to throw at me can hurt me. Most importantly, in his arms, I feel
wanted. Like I’m finally worth something to someone and he isn’t afraid to let me know that.

             
He can’t know I’m in love with him
; not yet.
He
would think I’m crazy
, loving someone so deeply after only a short period of time. But this is what we’re meant to do. We’re meant to be with one another, regardless of circumstance and oblivious to time.