Time Between Us (21 page)

Dear Bennett,

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of seeing
what lies outside the only world I’ve ever known—
outside my safe, normal life. And now, here I am, in a
small fishing village as far away from home—as far away from “normal”—as I can possibly be. And as amazing as that is, I know one thing for certain—none if it would matter if you weren’t sitting here next to me. You can take me anywhere. Or nowhere. But wherever you are in this world, that’s where I want to be.

I stop and hesitate, looking over at Bennett before I write the next two words. Maybe the word
love
is too much, but I feel it pushing against my chest, wanting to make its way onto the paper. So I let myself write the words:

Love,

Anna

Before I can chicken out, I slide the postcard over to him. I watch as Bennett completes his thought, flips the card over, picture-side up, and slides it across the table to me. We each pick our notes up off the table and read them at the same time.

Anna,

I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but I promise it will never happen again. From here on, you’ll always have a say in your own future.

Love,

Bennett

At least he used the word
love
too. I place the card back on the table so his words are facedown in the glass, and I force a smile. “Thanks.”

He looks at me, confused, knowing he’s missed the mark but not sure how. I can feel him watching me as I pick up my biscotti and take a bite.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“No, you’re disappointed.”

I shrug and swallow my bite. “That’s just…kind of a lame postcard.” I look over at him in a forgiving way. “And besides, you don’t need to keep apologizing.” I thought by now he would have known me better: Once I make up my mind, I don’t look back. “Is that what you really wanted to say?”

“No,” he says. “I know exactly what I want to say. But I don’t need a postcard to do it.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Okay, here goes.” He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for something epic. “I…You’re…You’re amazing, Anna. And I love your passion to travel the world, but I have to admit, I don’t completely get it. When I look around at this ‘normal’ life you’re so eager to leave, I don’t see
boring
or
predictable
—I see friends who love you and a family that would make any sacrifice for your happiness. I see the kind of security I’ve never had and always wanted. I may have given you access to the world I know best, but you and your family have given me a world that doesn’t exist on a map.

“When I’m here, we both have the lives we want—you have your daring adventure and I have my perfectly acceptable
nothing
. And more important, we have each other.”

“Now, there’s your postcard. I expect you to write this all down.” I slide him a new one and smile, but I’m only half kidding.

He continues as if I never interrupted. “I don’t think I can go back to a life without you.”

My face goes blank and I just stare at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…I’m completely in love with you. And I guess I’m wondering…what if I didn’t leave, after all?”

The word that was just pressing against my chest minutes ago is now coming from his mouth, and even though I wanted so much to see it on paper, I guess I wasn’t prepared to hear it spoken out loud. He loves me. He wants to stay with me. I can’t completely process either idea, but I feel light-headed from all of the hope that’s surging through my veins. And I think I’m still staring at him.

“Is that okay with you?”

“Which one?”

He smiles. “Well…both, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I’m just sitting there, nodding, not sure how to say it back but knowing I want to. And instead of telling him how I feel, I take the easier route. “How long will you stay?”

“Through graduation?”

I think again about the words he said in the bookstore the night he first kissed me—
I never stay
—and now I’m pretty sure he can see the disbelief in my eyes. “I thought you couldn’t.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t think I could, but, well…I’ve been here this long.”

“What about Brooke?”

“When she finally gets home and I no longer have an excuse to be here, I’ll just tell everyone that Maggie needs me and I want to stay here with her. I’ll tell them all about you—”

“Come on, do you seriously think they’re going to be okay with this? Won’t they be furious?”

He shakes his head no but says, “Absolutely.” Then he breaks into a huge grin.

I feel my face light up as his words run in a loop in my head:
I’m completely in love with you. What if I didn’t leave, after all?
He wants to stay with me. “That’s a lot of Tuesday-night dinners,” I say. “Think you can take it?”

“That’s a lot of traveling,” he says. “Think
you
can take it?” and he leans across the rest of the postcards, pushes my cappuccino out of the way, and takes my face in his hands. Buried deep in his kiss is a new kind of promise for our future, but on the surface, all I can feel tickling and teasing every nerve ending is the intensity of what we have right here in the present.

We spend the rest of the day in the Cinque Terre.

And then we spend the night there.

I push a pin into the little town of Vernazza and stand back, enjoying the way the newest marker has bridged the gap between Southeast Asia and the state of Illinois.

Thanks to Bennett’s talent, I’ve made it home without my parents even realizing that I was gone overnight, and while I don’t know for certain what happened back here, I have a pretty good idea: I didn’t return to school. Or show up at the bookstore for work. Or come home for dinner. At some point, my parents may have become exhausted from worrying. Police may have been called. Neighbors could have walked the streets with flashlights. Posters might even have been printed and stapled to telephone poles. But twenty-two hours later, when Bennett returned me to the spot in front of his locker—the place where we had taken a brief hiatus from our fight to hold hands, close our eyes, and leave the hallway the day before—it turned out that less than a minute had passed, and no one was ever worried, because no one ever missed me.

Despite knowing how awful the undone day might have been for the people I love, I can’t bring myself to regret it. In those twenty-two hours, Bennett and I climbed the mountain steps to the trail that leads from Vernazza to Monterosso, the steepest of the trails connecting the five villages. It wound us through olive orchards and vineyards, challenged us with rough climbs and narrow pathways, and in the end, rewarded us with the most incredible views of both villages and of the Mediterranean.

We spent the afternoon in Monterosso, but when we tired of the tourists and longed for the more peaceful Vernazza, we chartered a small boat to take us back to where we had begun. As it sped through the blue water, jumping and bouncing over the waves, I reclined lazily against Bennett’s chest and smiled up at the clouds. Just before we reached the dock, he enfolded me in his arms, leaned forward, and whispered in my ear, “Spend the night with me.” Thinking back, I never even questioned my reply. And I certainly didn’t think about panicked phone calls and posters and police and neighborhood searches, even though I should have. Instead I stayed, selfishly wrapped in Bennett’s arms, and watched the Tuscan sun rise up over the bay from a tiny
pensione
tucked into the hillside.

A shrill series of wailing beeps fills the room, and before I can mentally process the action, my palm comes down hard on the top of the digital clock on my bedside table to buy myself another ten minutes. It isn’t until the guilt climbs in under the soft covers and snuggles up next to me that I finally give in, throw both feet on the floor with an audible thud, and mind-over-matter myself through the darkness, arms extended for safety, to the closet.

Ten minutes later, my music is throbbing in my ears as I take the customary turns, pass the man with the gray ponytail, and reach the spongy surface of the track. I run, lost in my thoughts and singing along with the chorus when a movement in the bleachers catches my eye. I look over and see Bennett sitting there on the metal bench—just like he was that first day, wearing the same black parka and the same little smile—and this time I don’t hesitate. I turn and run across the center of the grassy green field, waving at him as I approach. I take the cement steps two at a time. “See? You are stalking me,” I pant when I’m finally within earshot. “I knew it.”

He stands up, looks around the track, and steps down to meet me.

“Hi. I’d kiss you, but I’m all sweaty.” I stand next to him and lift the hem of my T-shirt up to wipe my forehead. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the jacket—it’s, like, sixty-five degrees out here already.”

“Oh, my God. You know me. Anna, you know me?”

“Yeah. Ummm…why wouldn’t I?”

He tightens his lips and presses his temples with his fingertips, and I start to realize that something’s not right.

“I’ve been trying to get back.” His voice is sharp, his eyes wide and panicked. “I haven’t been able to get back. What’s the date?”

“Tuesday. May…”—I think for a moment—“the sixteenth, I think.” I add what would be obvious to most people but may not be to him: “It’s 1995. Bennett, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my God,” he says again under his breath, “I’m still here.” Then, to me, “I’m still here.”

He is, in fact, standing in front of me, so I nod. I take a step back and watch his face as he processes the information. “Anna, I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to get back to you, ever since—”

It’s sinking in. “
What?
Ever since what?”

“Anna, listen to me. This is important. Brooke’s home. Tell him…er,
me
…that Brooke’s home. And tell me to show you—” But before he can say another word he’s gone.

“What?” I beg. “Show me what?” But I’m talking to empty space as I stand there wondering where and when he’d come from and what he’s supposed to show me. I search the bleachers, looking for him like he might still be there, but I know he’s not. When Bennett disappears, he’s gone.

I sprint down through the bleachers, through campus, and back into the street.
Brooke’s home.
Trees are blurring by and I’m stopping only for traffic lights, and I’m trying to block the vision of his fading against his will. My heart’s beating so fast it feels like it’s going to explode by the time I reach Maggie’s porch and knock hard on the door. I double over trying to catch my breath while I wait for Bennett to answer.

“Anna.” Maggie’s clearly surprised to see me sweaty and flushed, and the tone of her voice as she says, “Good morning,” makes it clear she doesn’t think I should be here this early.

“Good morning, Maggie.” I pant. “I’m sorry. I know it’s early. Is Bennett here?”

She opens the door wide and invites me in. “I don’t think he’s left for campus yet. Go on up.”

“Thanks,” I say as I race past her, up the stairs, and down the hall to Bennett’s door. I knock and listen for movement, and when I don’t hear anything, I start to panic. He said he was trying to get back here.
What if he’s already gone?
But he opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, a headful of wet hair, and a smile. I take in a sharp breath. He’s still here.

I throw my arms around his neck, relieved to smell his shampoo and feel the warmth of his still damp skin. “Hey, what’s up?” he says brightly, but he seems to realize from the vise grip I still have on him that I’m here for a reason. “You okay?”

I back away. “Something’s wrong.”

He pulls me inside and closes the door behind him. I haven’t been here since we sat on his bed and I begged him to do a day over again. That was only a month ago, but it seems like years have passed since then.

“I saw you at the track, just like that time in March.”

“That again? I keep telling you, I was never—”

“Bennett. I just saw…another…
you
.” I’d planned to break the news a little more gently, but at least I have his full attention now. “You were at the track again, but this time I could talk to you, and you knew me. And you were shocked that I knew you too.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, and I nod, wide-eyed and absolutely certain. “What did I say? Exactly? What were the
exact
words I used?”

“You asked me the date, and when I told you, you were surprised. And you realized that you”—I reach out and rest my hand on his chest—“
you
were still here.” He stares at me, eyebrows knit, forehead tight with confusion. “You told me to tell you that Brooke’s home.”

“What?”

I nod. “That’s what you said.”

He looks at his watch like the time of day is going to help him puzzle this out. “She’s home?” he says, to no one in particular.

I nod. “There’s more.” I have his full attention again. “You said you’d been trying to get back here ‘ever since.’ And you told me to tell you to show me something, but you never told me what. You were in midsentence as you disappeared, like you couldn’t stop it from happening.”
Like you were out of control
, I want to say, but don’t.

He looks around the room, out the window, anywhere but at me. “Bennett, what’s going on?” I press my fists into my thighs hoping he’ll say something, anything, that will make me feel better.

“I don’t know.”