Surviving Us (26 page)

ONCE MY SEATBELT IS
securely fastened, I sit and stare at the envelope in my lap. Teardrops continue to fall freely onto the white paper, smearing the ink where he’d written my name on the outside. I consider waiting until after we’ve taken off to open it, but I can’t any longer. I’m a glutton for punishment. With one swipe of my finger, I rip it open and pull out the folded piece of paper.

The waterworks return to full-blast as I dig into the bottom of the envelope to find a piece of tissue paper wrapped around a dainty, silver anklet with a single star charm on it. Unlike the handmade beaded necklace and bracelet he gave me the night of our sailing trip, which I’ve worn every day since, this is a fine-crafted piece of jewelry. I turn it over in my hands, admiring its beauty, when I notice the word “Trouble” engraved on the opposite side.

Overwhelmed with emotions, I look up just as the plane pulls away from the gate and glance over at the building. Davis is standing at the window, staring at the plane and waving goodbye. I know he can’t see me, but I wave goodbye and blow him a kiss anyway, silently promising us both this isn’t our ending.

FOR FOURTEEN LONG DAYS
and fourteen longer nights, I’ve stumbled around in a hopeless daze, crying at the most random moments and refusing to leave Granny’s house. I have no appetite whatsoever, and I’ve slept more than a hibernating bear. I know I’m acting ridiculous; people get their heart broken every day, but I don’t care. It’s never happened to me before.

Naturally, Granny was thrilled for me to be home, though she did get on to me for not emailing enough and scaring the life out of her with the storm, as if I had something to do with its development. I haven’t told her all the details about what had happened, but she’s no fool. She knows what I’m going through, and to her credit, she’s done a great job of allowing me to wallow in my sorrows.

Today, however, I’m packing up my car and returning to Norman to get ready for the fall semester. It’s still a bit early, being the first weekend of August, but Alyvia and I are moving into our first apartment together—something we’ve talked about since we became inseparable at orientation last year. As freshmen, we were required to live in a dorm, and although we were in the same building, we both had different roommates assigned to us. Now, we’re finally able to have our own place without RAs breathing down our neck at our every move, and cranky roommates bitching about us keeping them awake.

Also, returning early allows me to get a start on the football workouts that start on Monday, and I need to be there to cover them for the paper; not to mention, I need to reclaim my waitressing job at Louie’s before they fill all the positions for this semester. I was excited about all of these things a month ago, but now I couldn’t give two shits about them. I just want to stay in bed at Granny’s forever.

My phone rings as I load the last box into the trunk. “Hey, Lyv,” I answer out of breath. “What’s up?”

“I sure hope that panting I hear is either because you’re packing up your car and on your way, or because you just finished a hot and sweaty goodbye fuck session with some cutie you met there over the summer,” she chuckles through the phone.

“We’re gonna go with the former,” I reply. “I should be leaving here in the next ten-to-fifteen minutes.”

“Awesome. I just picked up the keys, and all of the furniture Daddy bought for us should be delivered here in the next hour,” she says, reviewing the schedule we’ve discussed in detail already three times this week. “Then, tonight after we go grocery shopping and get set up, we’re going out to celebrate.”

I groan, slamming the trunk closed. The last thing I feel like doing is partying tonight. “Lyv, I’m going to be tired after driving and moving all our shit. Can we go some other time?”

“Nope, absolutely not,” she snaps. “I haven’t seen you in nearly two months! And you’re also going to tell me the full story about what happened on your vacation. I know you’re holding out on me, woman! I may have a few stories to tell you about my trip, too.”

She giggles and I know without even hearing them they’re going to involve sex . . . lots of sex. Though I love my best friend dearly, she is not going to win any awards on innocence or celibacy. I would think she has a “daddy” issue, but in actuality, her father is the only person in her family who truly gives a damn about her. He sometimes goes about showing her in the wrong way, like by giving her free reign of his limitless lines of credit or taking her on month-long exotic vacations with his new family, but truthfully, he does love her dearly. It’s more than obvious when I spend time with them together.

“All right, sweets, let me tell Granny bye and I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“’Kay, can’t wait to see your face!” she yells before hanging up.

I trudge back up to the house, where Granny is waiting on the porch with my purse. She smiles softly and pulls me in for a warm hug. “It will get better, Bristol,” she murmurs into my hair. “I know you don’t think it will, but everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

I nod, even though I don’t believe her. I can’t accept my parents were
supposed
to die or that anyone should ever hurt like I do right now. “I love you, Granny,” I say, pulling away. “I’ll let you know when I’m there safely.”

I pull into the parking lot of my and Alyvia’s new apartment a little after three-thirty. Finding a parking spot is rather easy, since it’s a Friday afternoon and most students won’t be returning for another couple of weeks. Giving Granny a quick call to let her know I’m there, I turn off the engine and climb out of the car.

With a box under each arm, I make the initial ascent up the stairs to our place on the third floor. I tap my foot lightly on the door, since my hands are full, and thankfully, it’s only a matter of seconds before Lyv throws the door open and squeals as loud as possible. “Oh my God! You’re here! We’re actually doing this! Ahhhhh!”

I can’t help but laugh at her excitement, even if I’m not feeling it as much as she is
—
nothing to do with her, of course. “You’re crazy.” I smile, shaking my head as I walk past her into the already-decorated living room. “Wow, you’ve been busy today.” I place the two boxes on the kitchen table and take a look around.

“I hope you like it.” She bounds over to me, hugging my neck and kissing my cheek. “I went bold out here
—
African chic, the lady called it
—
and then softer in the bedrooms.”

Bold
is one word for the sleek black leather couches and myriad of animal prints appearing around the open area. Gold, orange, and red accents help emphasize the whole safari look, which spills over into the kitchen.

“I’m not sure if I should roar or talk to you in here,” I jest, hugging her back, truly happy to see her after our time apart.

“You don’t like it?” Her eyes open wide and forehead creases with concern. “Maybe I watched
Lion King
one too many times this summer with Lily.”

“It’s great, Lyv. I was just teasing. You rocked it out,” I assure her. “How’s Lily adjusting to the move, anyway?”

Lily is Alyvia’s four-year-old half-sister, the product of her dad’s third and most recent marriage to her high school freshman Algebra teacher. This was the algebra class that, according to Lyv, she was failing but miraculously passed with a B after a few teacher-parent conferences . . . yet another example of how her dad will do anything for her.

“She’s awesome, as always. That kid never stops smiling.” Lyv tugs on my hand, pulling me towards the door. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff from your car, and then I want you to see your room. I’ll show you pics of Daddy’s new house later.”

For the next several hours, we finish unpacking our personal stuff and putting away our clothes, giving me a small reprieve from thinking about Davis. In all honesty, I love the mahogany bedroom furniture, along with the feminine pale yellow and lavender bedding and curtains she picked out for me, and the longer I’m here with her, the more excited I’m getting about the next school year.

“You ready to grab some dinner? I’m just about finished.” She peeks her head through the doorway of my room. My stomach growls as I process the thought, my body answering before my voice does.

“Yeah, sure. Are we gonna shower-up now, or later?” I ask, unsure if dinner will lead straight to going out, or if we’re coming back here first
—
a topic she’s already mentioned several more times since I got here, so I know there’s no talking her out of it.

“Now. Jenna’s working at Papa Delgado’s tonight, so she’ll hook us up with some margaritas, and then we can go see who’s playing at Deli.”

“How are we getting in Deli?”