I’ll Become the Sea (14 page)

His red pickup fills the space in front of the garage. He sits on the crumbling steps of the porch, a backpack and an aluminum tin resting beside him.

For a moment I can’t move. I turn off my lights and look at him through the dusty windshield, at the shape of his body against the dusky blue of the house. I make myself open the door.

He waits for me, his eyes on me. He is beautiful, devastating.

The ground sings with crickets. Across the untidy grass fireflies flicker in the twilight. I walk up the cobbled path, breathing in the scent of soil and green.

I sit beside him on the stairs. The worn wood yields against my legs, sinking us somehow deeper toward the ground. The fabric of my skirt brushes against his thigh. I feel his pulse change, the subtle imbalance of air.

He reaches for the tin at his feet. “I made you some cookies.” He hands me the container. It has Christmas trees on it and reindeer. “Sorry about the packaging. It was all I had in the house.”

The pressed metal of the tin is smooth and cool in my hands.

“They’re chocolate chip. Maybe not as good as yours, but I tried.” He reaches for an insulated bottle from inside the backpack, puts it in my free hand. “Milk. I hope it’s still cold.”

“David…” Setting the bottle and tin down on the steps, I take his hand. The electrical force of him shoots into my skin. I turn, my knees bumping into his. He shifts to make room for me.

“What are you doing here?”

He opens my fingers, slides his palm against mine. His warm palm. “I called Sarah yesterday. She told me where you were. What you were going to do. Don’t be mad at her. I was very forceful.” He manages a smile.

“You don’t understand.” I pull his hand toward the center of my chest.

“I do understand. I know what you had to do.”

“I didn’t do it. Or yes, I did do what I had to do. I…wrote the letter. I called the family.”

“Okay.”

“I told them they shouldn’t let him out.”

His grip on my hand tightens. “What? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t go on acting like everything is okay when it’s not okay.”

“Does he know?”

I am silent for a moment. I listen to the sounds of evening falling around us. “Yes, he knows.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

He holds my hand in his, stroking me with his thumb, studying my face. Over the tops of the trees, stars begin to emerge, bright shots of light in the darkening blue sky.

“I’m sorry I read those articles. You were right. It was private. I shouldn’t have looked into it without talking to you first.”

“No. You shouldn’t have. But I can see why you did. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you.”

“Maybe you didn’t want to relive it.”

“But I am reliving it. I’m always reliving it.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I know that.”

“You do?”

“I think I finally do, yes.”

His eyes are on me. In their light I feel unbearably exposed. I brace myself. I don’t look away. I meet his gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jane.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“You have a right to be happy.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah. I do.”

In his eyes there is a gentleness, a tenderness that has scared me from the first moment I met him. He sees something in me, is capable of seeing, in a way that offers no protection, no kind of hiding.

“Why did you come?”

“Honey.” He pulls my hand to his mouth, against his cheek. “You know why I’m here.”

I wish I could make myself numb, but it doesn’t work anymore. Not with him. I’m stuck here, out in the open, face to face with him. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He leans back, to look at me. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I’m a…I’m a….”

“What?”

I stand up and walk down the steps. “I don’t know. A…bottomless pit. A sinkhole. Quicksand.”

“Jane.”

“You won’t be able to handle it. You won’t want to.”

He sits on the steps, his eyes level with mine. “You’ve been the center of my life for four months now. Do I look like I’m struggling?”

I start to cry. “But you will. Everyone does. Everyone.”

“You had the wrong people in your life.”

I shake my head.

“You think there’s something unmanageable about you, and there isn’t.” He rises and comes down the steps. His voice is thick, but he is quiet, calm. “You think I’m going to get overwhelmed and leave you, but I won’t.”

“I used to be able to hold this in, and I can’t now.”

“I don’t want you to hold it in.”

“It’s…it’s everywhere, it’s flooding out of me. It’s too much. I’ve just…I’ve destroyed my family. I’m more alone now than ever. I’ve pushed everyone away.”

“You didn’t push me away. You didn’t push Sarah.”

“And I don’t want to. I couldn’t stand it if I…”

“You’re not going to.” He comes to me. He stands before me. He takes my hands in his hands. “It’s not too much, Jane. You’re not too much.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I can take it. I want to take it. I’m so…I’m so fucking proud of you, so…”

“David…” I hold his hands as tightly as I can.

“I know you’re scared, but give me a chance. Let me try to…”

“David, I…”

“Let me try to…”

“I love you.”

I feel his breath hitch. He stands and looks at me for a moment, looks into my eyes.

“You love me?”

I take a step toward him. I take him into my arms. “Yes.”

He gathers me against him. He wraps his arms around me. “Can you do this?”

“If you…if you really…”

He steps back, his hands on my shoulders, my face. “Because I don’t want to see you once a week. I don’t want a two-year engagement…”

“Okay.”

“I want all of you.” He brushes the tears off my face.

I want all of it too. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. “I can do it.”

He pulls me into him. He holds me against his body. His warm, strong body. His steady heart. “I can do it too.”

He smells like the wooded air up here, the lake, the sky.

“You’re really in for it.”

“I’m ready.”

We sit on the sand, looking out at the water. Beside us are two gifts.

“Will you miss it?”

“This place? Not really.”

“I guess you’ll still have the ocean.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be warm all year.”

I have filled a box for him with the best books we read together, a journal, a box of pre-addressed, stamped note cards, so he won’t have any excuse not to write to me.

“I’ll probably miss my friends.”

“Tyrell?”

“Yeah. And you. And Mr. Casey.”

“We’ll miss you too, Raymond.”

For me, he brought a necklace. A slim silver chain, and hanging from it, a bird. I take it from the box, clasp it against my chest.

“You guys gonna get married?”

“Me and Tyrell? He’s a little young, don’t you think?”

He punches my arm. And then blushes.

“It’s okay. It’s not sore anymore.”

“I’m really sorry I did that to you, Ms. Elliott.”

“Ray, it’s okay. You’d just had the worst kind of loss.”

“I know, but you know what my grandma would say. ‘There’s no excuse for hurting someone.’”

I smile. He has nailed her voice exactly. “She would probably say that, yeah.”

He looks off into the ocean, to a great ship in the distance. The beach is empty except for the two of us. Morning light is just beginning to stretch across the horizon.

“She would understand, though, Raymond, you know that. And I do too. It was a mistake. And to be honest, it kind of changed everything stupid about my life, so in a way, I should thank you.”

He laughs. “You’re welcome.”

I put my arm around his shoulder.

We sit on the beach like that, side by side, and watch the rising of the sun.

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