Read For All You Have Left Online
Authors: Laura Miller
She pushes her lips to one side and then
dips her head in agreement. “Noted,” she whispers.
Hannah could have picked a better time to come barging in with coffee, but I’m glad she didn’t. I want so badly to tell Jorgen everything, but I also think that I just as badly don’t want to tell him anything. I wonder sometimes if I could just get by with never saying the words—ever. I wonder if it would even matter if he never knew. But then, I know that’s not really possible...or fair. He should know...soon, and I should be the one to tell him.
“So,” Hannah says. “We’re having a barbeque tomorrow evening.”
“We?” I ask.
“Yeah, Mom and I cooked it up. Just the family—and Jorgen, of course.”
Hannah sends me a quick, reassuring look that says:
It’ll be okay
. And then she dramatically spins around on the stool and faces Jorgen.
“Jorgen, you can come, right?” she asks.
Jorgen looks at me. I try to hide the utter fear I feel inside about a night with Jorgen surrounded by my family. I know Hannah probably doesn’t think it’s a big deal, but I have never brought anyone home before—not like this. And it is my family we’re talking about. I mean, if they didn’t feel the need to express their every opinion about certain aspects of my life at every turn, it wouldn’t be so bad, and I wouldn’t be so terrified—but that also wouldn’t be my family.
I f
orce my lips into a faint smile that Jorgen seems to notice.
“I’d love to,”
he says.
“Great,” Hannah exclaims before she glances at her watch and jumps up. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Just wanted to drop off the coffee and tell you about the barbeque. Lada, call me later. We can figure out a time for tomorrow.”
Hannah slips out the door then just as quickly as she had slipped in a few minutes ago, and instantly, my eyes fall on Jorgen. He looks happy and maybe a little nervous. I make my way to the living room and sit down next to him on the couch.
“They’ll love you,” I say and mean it.
I watch his sky-blue eyes slowly light
up. “Well, I’m excited to meet them.” His happy gaze lowers and then quickly lifts again, grabbing my attention. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”
I feel my face going
blank until I remember there was something—something I don’t want to say anymore and risk losing that beautiful smile hanging on his lips.
“Uh, no,” I say, shaking my head.
He takes a wayward strand of my hair and secures it behind my ear.
“I love you,
Ada.”
I lower my eyes and press my lips together.
“I love you too,” I say, eventually leveling my gaze with his again.
The Tree
“W
hat’s this?”
I turn and then sigh once I see what Jorgen’s eyes are planted on. We made it through the whole meeting-the-family thing with not so much as a mention of my life before I was nineteen. Even Hannah kept her mouth shut, which is basically a small miracle. But now, it’s me who leads him straight into an old memory.
“Is the
L
for Logan?” he asks, eventually.
I slowly nod my head and push my lips to one side.
He glances at me and then turns his attention back to the big oak tree with the heart carved into its bark.
“The
A
—your tattoo?” he asks.
I nod my head again.
He keeps his eyes planted on the tree, but I know he can see me nodding my head. Meanwhile, I spot a rock on the ground near my feet, and I kick it gently around with my shoe.
“Did you ever have a high school sweetheart?” I ask.
A silent moment passes.
“No,” he says
at last, shaking his head.
I feel my eyes grow wide. “I don’t believe you.”
“No, really,” he says. “I never really paid attention too much to girls in high school. My head was so deep into football—that, and I had eight girls in my class and two of them, that I knew of, were my cousins. And I wasn’t really sure about the rest of them either. I was pretty convinced that we were all related somehow or another.”
“Wait. But you d
ated a girl in high school—who wasn’t in your class, right?”
His forehead
wrinkles, and he seems to think about it for a moment.
“In high school? No, not really,” he says. “It was all kind of the same thing. They were all just siblings or cousins of the girls in my class.”
I slowly push my lips into a pout. “That’s kind of sad.”
“What? Why?” he asks.
He’s smiling, but he looks completely puzzled.
“Because,” I say, “that means you never got to write notes back and forth during fourth hour, and you never got to wear someone’s name on the back of your tee shirt during a game or you never broke curfew because you fell asleep in some old hammock somewhere.”
He laughs to himself, and it snaps me out of my starry trance.
“What?” I ask.
“There were other ways to break curfew, Ada Bear.”
I look at him suspiciously.
“And they didn’t involve a hammock,” he adds.
“Well, what did they involve?” I’m curious now.
“I don’t know, usually a couple trucks, some four wheelers and a sandy river bottom.”
“Aah,” I say, starting to laugh.
But after a moment, Jorgen grows quiet, and then I notice him shaking his head. “But, yeah, I didn’t need a first love.”
My eyes instinctively narrow as I wait for him to continue.
But he doesn’t continue—not right away. He takes my hands in his, and his blue eyes seem to leave a thoughtful trail from my lips up to my eyes. And the way he looks at me as if he’s searching my soul forces my expression to soften.
“I’ve got my true love right here,” he says. “That’s all I need.”
He pulls me into him, and suddenly, I feel his warm breaths near my ear. “It’s all I ever needed,” he whispers.
I let myself fall into the muscles in his chest, and I breathe in the scent of his now familiar cologne, and I close my eyes until I feel as if I could just disappear inside his arms.
“And besides,” he whispers as he plants a soft kiss on my neck. “We’ve still got a lifetime of firsts in front of us.”
Amsel
“J
eez, Ada, you really do smell like a garbage can,” Amsel says, following me into my apartment.
He fans the air and laughs as he does it.
“A ferret,” I correct him. “I smell like a ferret.”
“And they smell like that when they’re alive?” he asks.
I give him a sideways look. “Yes,” I confirm.
“And someone raises those things?”
“Believe it or not,” I say, throwing my computer bag onto a chair and making my way into my bedroom.
“
Ada, honey, you’ve gotta get a new hobby,” he calls out after me.
I come out of my room a few seconds later with a bathrobe wrapped around me.
“But it’s the only hobby I have that pays, Amsel,” I say, sending him a wink.
He looks my way and laughs. “Well, do us both a favor and wash the stink off of ya all ready.”
I shoot him a sarcastic glare, and then I disappear into the bathroom and close the door behind me. And the first thing I do is smell my hair. It does kind of stink.
Dang ferret
. I turn on the shower and shimmy out of my bathrobe. Then, I slip behind the shower curtain and wash off with my new body soap. It kind of smells like dryer sheets. Hannah bought it. She loves buying me things; I never complain. I lather shampoo into my hair next and then conditioner, and then I lather myself with the soap again—just to make sure there’s no leftover ferret perfume on me. And when I’m done, I step out of the shower, towel off, throw on my robe again and twist my hair into another towel.
“Amsel,” I call out to him as I open the door.
Steam pours out of the little room.
“Hmm?” he asks.
“I picked you up some soda. It’s in the fridge.”
“Oh, thanks, A,” he says.
I hear him get up, and then I hear the refrigerator door open.
I, meanwhile,
wipe the mirror with my hand. My reflection is distorted and blurry. I stare at it for a second. I feel as if I look young, but sometimes, I don’t feel so young. I grab some lotion and massage it into my face before I scurry back to my room and throw on some old sweats.
On my way back to the living room, I drape the towel over the towel rack in the bathroom and run my fingers through my damp hair a couple times.
Amsel’s sitting on the couch taking a big swig out of the can of soda when I walk in. I notice the ring on his finger against the red aluminum, and instantly, I suck in a quick breath. It’s a gentle reminder that he’s moved on and I haven’t.
“You know that stuff’s not good for your teeth,” I say, plopping down onto the couch next to him.
He looks at the can in his hand.
“Then why do you always buy it for me?”
I narrow one eye at him and push my lips to one side. “I guess that does kind of make me your codependent.”
“My what?” He starts to laugh.
“Your crutch.”
“Well, crutch,” he says, raising his can. “You smell much better.”
I laugh and then shove his shoulder. He moves away from me but still manages to steady the soda and keep all the liquid inside the can. Then after he recovers, his dark brown eyes meet mine. And all of a sudden, there’s a sobering look on his face.
“I heard you brought someone home,” he says.
I don’t say anything until I see a faint smile lingering on his lips.
“Well, word still does travel fast around these parts, doesn’t it?” I ask.
He sits back and smiles liberally. “As fast as always,” he confirms.
I make sure to keep an eye on him.
“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask, gingerly.
I wait for his eyes to find mine again. They do in the next second.
“Ada, what we had lasted but a moment and ended so long ago,” he says with a straight, slightly sad face.
I just stare at him with
a vacant expression until he starts to crack another smile.
Then, I shove his shoulder again and press my back against the couch.
“I’m just kidding, Ada,” he says, laughing. “Well, sort of,” he adds.
I shoot him a sarcastic glare.
“Ada,” he says and then stops.
My sarcastic
eyes quickly turn soft as I notice the change in his voice.
He takes a second and stares at the coffee table before he looks
back up at me.
“Do
you remember when we were kids and we used to play in that old barn on your grandpa’s farm?”
I start to smile.
Only every other memory
.
“Of course,” I say, simply, nodding my head.
“Remember that day when that big storm rolled through, and all of a sudden, it was lightning and thundering and pouring rain and we were stuck in that hayloft until it passed us?”
“Yeah,” I softly say.
He looks into my eyes. “I was scared, but you weren’t.”
“I remember.” My voice is almost a whisper as I lower my eyes. I remember the wind and how it howled through the alley below us. “But I really was scared,” I confess.
He smiles. “Well, you didn’t seem like it that day. You held my hand. That was the first time I ever fell in love.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell.
“You broke my heart, Logan.” His eyes falter and fall to the leather in the couch. “Ada,” he corrects, lifting his gentle gaze again.
He tries to smile, and I do too before
I scoot closer to him and wrap my arms around him. And a moment later, I feel his hands come to rest on my back.
“I love you,” I whisper
near his ear, holding him tight.
I feel his chest rise as he takes in a deep breath.
“I love you too, Logan,” he exhales, not even bothering to correct himself.
Sunday
“Y
ou wanna come with me, Ada Bear?”
Jorgen’s throwing a little stress ball up into the air, catching it and then throwing it back up again.
“Where?” I ask.
“To the gas station. To get the M&M
’s.”
I let go of a smile. “Sure.”
I watch him throw the ball up one more time and then set it onto the coffee table.