Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 7

“Ian,” Caroline called in her smooth voice, still further down the beach.

His arms still wrapped around me, he craned his neck over his shoulder to see her. I turned to face him, grateful the threat of tears was past and he had been gracious enough not to make it worse. There was almost more comfort in his embrace than in knowing he wouldn’t tell.

Rubbing my arms he asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, the feeling of betrayal still tossing uncomfortably in my stomach but my emotions in check. I even tossed in a genuine smile so he’d believe me.

“No worries, love,” he said with a hint of Irish accent. He tipped my chin up with a hooked finger. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He winked at me just before Caroline was upon us.

“What are my favorite people up to?” she asked, throwing her arms around us.

“Just walking.”

“And talking,” Ian added, smiling. “And you obviously want something.”

She gasped, her features indignant. “Not me, Ian. Haven’t you learned by now? When we’re with my parents, they’re the ones who want. You know, answers, questions, updates, lies, empty promises, a touch of truth to abide by the idiot rules.”

“It’s been so long I nearly forgot,” he said, shaking his head.

“Best be off. They don’t much like waiting, if you remember,” she warned.

“Right, then. We’ll all have to talk later;” He headed back toward the house.

My eyes followed him as my mind tried to convince the rest of me telling him wasn’t a betrayal. It was healthy to have more than one close relationship.

“Aren’t your feet cold?” Caroline asked, jarring my attention away from my inner turmoil.

“I’m used to it by now. It actually feels refreshing.”

Shrugging, she slipped out of her flats and let them dangle from two fingers at her side. “Let’s walk.” Neither of us said anything for a while, though she did curse the first few times the ocean washed over her feet. I was about to suggest she warm her feet if she didn’t like the cold, but the next time a swell broke over the sand, steam rose from where she walked and there were no more complaints.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. Until then, I had been watching a couple of seagulls soar over the ocean, reminding me of what I still wanted to try.

“It’s been over three months,” I said, not wanting to go more in depth.

“That’s not an answer.”

For a while I ignored her, not wanting to open that can of worms, but knowing she’d insist until I did. I wasn’t hiding it to spite her, though I knew that’s what she believed. It was just too hard to go there still. Everything was better when I left it alone; everything except the hole in my still fragile heart that seemed to rule my dreams and nightmares. But I was fine not fully dealing with it otherwise.

“I’m holding it together,” I said at last, knowing it would come nowhere close to satiating her want.

“More can be expected, Abs.”

I wanted to argue against her claim, fighting that more couldn’t be expected when it was Drei. That someone like him took more time because he’d been around longer. He’d seen more; he’d cared. And in return I would have done anything. I did everything. But that couldn’t change what had happened.

“Not thinking about it helps more than anything else.”

“Not for long,” she said, saying what I already knew to be true.

Shaking away her words and the emotions that could crush me given the chance, I quickened my pace enough so we weren’t next to each other. I still hadn’t told her it was partially her fault. Between calling all the time and that surprising kiss, there was no way she wasn’t responsible for some part in my pain.

And yet she had been there when I needed someone. It was enough to keep her from knowing, for the time being.

“Abs, how are you doing?” she pleaded. “Talk to me.”

Blocking her words, I looked out to the clam serenity of the ocean, thinking if I could be out there, this conversation would just fade away. It wouldn’t happen, and it wouldn’t change anything.

Pulling the air into little cloud-like blocks to walk across, I made my way out over the ocean, Caroline’s cries of concern falling away in the breeze. I stopped, not wanting to go too far. Escape didn’t matter if you didn’t survive it.

Standing over the ocean, the water rolled gently below me; it was far enough away not to threaten to weaken me. Although the air was heavier, it was also sweeter. The breeze brought calm with it, wrapping me in blankets of control and peace. It almost seemed to work at healing me, making me strong again. Confident, again. Inhaling the moist wind, I could feel it swirl inside me until it was dangerously close to lulling me into a deep relaxation where I forget even the air holding me up. There, I could pull out my thoughts, one by one, sorting through what made sense without the teary mess.

When I was ready, I thanked the ocean breeze, feeling better than before, though I knew I still had a ways to go. I felt, now, at least, I could answer Caroline and work towards being better than “holding it together.”

She waited on the beach, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapping her sweater tight around her in the growing darkness.

“After three months,” I started, stepping down into the wet sand before her, “I still miss him. But I can live without him. I can laugh again, smile without feeling it’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt as much. It still does hurt, though. The little reminders every day make it hard not to think about.”

“Is that all?” she asked, standing and dusting her skinny jeans clean.

“There has to be more?” I hoped she didn’t expect waterworks. It wasn’t what I wanted for myself, anyway.

“I half expected you to cry,” she said. “What happened out there?”

For a moment, I thought about giving her the long version, the slow way my element worked to bring me to a good place, a place I could be in and not fall to pieces easily. But I wasn’t sure she could understand. Her element was different from mine, and I wasn’t sure she had ever experienced anything like it. “I found peace,” I said instead.

“Really?” Caroline cocked an eyebrow at me and turned her head slightly. Why did she not believe me on things like this?

“A semblance of it;” I smiled, knowing it sounded weird without the full explanation.

“If you insist,” she said, shrugging. She started to walk back to the house.

Following her, I said, “I do.”

Walking back, I felt like I could do anything. Like that may have been the last time I would come near to crying over him. Caroline told me we were staying only for a few days past Christmas and then heading back to the city to party for New Years. The thought of going dancing without him didn’t wring my stomach in knots as it would have earlier that day. In fact, I found the prospect rather exhilarating.