“Using that line on me, now?” His crooked
smile twisted his lips.
“Of course,” I teased back, the
tears successfully kept at bay.
“Glad you haven't lost your touch; you
were starting to look too serious there for a moment.”
“We all change for what life has
planned for us,” I said, inwardly cringing at how much I sounded like Drei and
Valetta, even Mitchell on the odd occasion.
“So you aren't all fun and games
anymore?”
“If I remember right, you were
never all fun and games.” I smiled at him through the dimness.
“Ah,” he sighed, “the truth comes
out.”
“Don't you wish life could just
return to the way it was?”
“Before I met you, or after?”
“Before...well, I don't know.” I
had meant the question for him, but somehow it felt like he had turned it back
to me. “My life before you wasn't as glam as the movies make it out to be, and
life with you was an emotional mess—”
“Thanks.”
“Not just because of you,” I added,
grinning despite myself. “But life after wasn't that great either.”
“So when is your life going to
balance out?”
Sighing, I gazed across the room to
where Mom lay, sleeping and probably dreaming of Dad. Her life was probably
great before me, but maybe not. Were we both destined to have lives full of
disasters? Or was that just mine, and, before she ended up here, her life was
great?
As he always had, Nick waited
patiently for my response. The problem was I didn't have an answer for him. It
apparently wouldn't be better now, and it obviously wouldn't be better once I left
that place since that dratted sinking feeling still hadn't gone completely
away. But there had to be a time when it would be better. Right?
“When I know, I'll tell you.”
“And if it never comes…”
“I have to believe it will come.”
“Why, though?”
“Because. I gave up believing you
were still alive, and here you are. I nearly gave up finding my mom, and even
though it's not how I wanted to find her, I found her. Before all of that, I
had given up on ever being with Drei, and even though you can't really say
we're together, it's closer than I had ever hoped. Every time I give up on believing,
it happens to spite me,” I said, fully realizing how true it was. “So even if
one of these days I do stop believing I'll ever find contentment in life, I
know I will somewhere along the line.”
“You always were good at talking,”
he teased, nudging me with his shoulder lightly. “But I see your point.”
“Do you ever get tired of joking?”
I asked, gazing steadily at him again. His eyes wouldn't meet mine and I knew
he didn't have an answer that was serious—not right away, anyway.
“Yeah, I do,” he admitted after a
moment. “I hated having to joke the last time I saw you. I really wanted to be
serious, but I knew that would be harder on you, so I did it for you.”
“Why haven't you stopped?”
“I did;” he met my gaze, a sadness
dimming the light in his eyes. “I hadn't joked with anyone since that day—until
today.”
“Then why did you start again if
you didn't want to?” I had a feeling I knew the answer, but I didn’t want that
to be it.
“Because I still love you, Abriel. And
Drei doesn't have much of a sense of humor; and when I saw you tonight, you
looked so much older than I remembered…like you were carrying the weight of the
world. I just wanted to hear you laugh again, to see you smile.”
“You don't have to change for me,”
I whispered, feeling tears press at my eyes again.
“I don't have to, but I want to. For
you, I don't mind it.”
“Nick.” Was he trying to make me
cry? Seriously. No matter how star-crossed it might have been, some small part
of me was wishing we could have worked out.
“You don't have to say anything.”
I couldn’t understand why he was
doing this, despite my knowing the answers. It was hitting me so much more than
I had thought possible and I was certain I didn’t have the willpower to stop
myself crying this time; it was so hard. My chest felt tight and my breath
caught every time I tried to calm myself.
“I love you, too.”
“I know,” he said, pulling me into
his arms. As much as he had grown up, his arms were one place that managed to
still be the same. “That's why I don't mind changing for you. No matter how
much more you love him, I know you still love me.”
I sat curled in his arms for the
longest time. We didn't say anything else. But for the first time since I had
left the darkness that I could remember, I fell asleep. He held me through my
silent tears, stroking my hair as he had done so many times before, rocking me
gently. For a moment, we weren't the adults we had grown into; we were those
teenaged youth back at camp, trying to find normality in a place where none
existed. The last thing I remembered was a kiss on the forehead.
When I woke up, my mom was rocking
me gently, stroking my hair and seemingly lucid. She smiled her goofy smile,
but her cerulean eyes weren't as wide as they had been.
“Where's Nick?”
“Gone. He went off his shift
forever ago. But he said he loved you and he'd see you in a week; for all we
know that's tonight or a couple days away.” She shrugged.
“What changed?” I wasn’t sure what
had happened while I was asleep, but I knew something had. She was being
altogether too normal, considering her usual state.
“Nick talked to me before he left. He
told me I had to try extra hard to be like I was. To be calm and focused,” she said,
bobbing her head up and down in emphasis.
“Why, though?” I shook my head—it
was throbbing from constantly trying to understand and accommodate the ever
mounting influx of information; her sudden change in behavior was not helping.
“Because I have a lot to teach you.
Uh-huh. A lot for you to learn about being you before he comes.”
“Before Nick comes? What?”
“No silly;” she clucked her tongue
at me, then stopped mid-cluck as she remembered what she had promised Nick. “When
your he comes. Nick said your he would come even though mine didn't. I don't
remember what the name was though.” She tapped her chin with a slender finger
as she tried to remember.
“Drei?” I offered, my voice
dripping with the hope she had been discouraging since we met.
Her features lit up excitedly. “Drei,
that's it. You're really good at that. When Drei comes.”