The Story of You and Me (31 page)

“Anything you need to say to me,” Lulu nodded, “you can say in front of Blue.”

* * *

I sat on a park bench off a pathway that ran between USCLA campus buildings. Lulu and Blue were huddled in close to me. There was a smattering of subtle fall colors on the leaves. Delicate hued yellows, oranges and reds. As if the California trees couldn’t commit to the whole change of season thing.
 

Fall semester was in full gear and a wide array of students carried backpacks and checked their cells as they walked, looking up at the names on the brick buildings, searching for their classes. A new, exciting journey was beginning for them. My journey was over. The exception being the apologies I needed to offer.

“Lulu—I had no idea you were in love with Alejandro when I met him. If I knew, if I had an inkling? I would have removed myself from that picture so quickly it would have made your head spin. Never in a thousand years would I have wanted to hurt you, Jackson, or Alejandro.”

“Got it,” she said. “But—”

“No buts. The night of your folks’ party, this whole thing just came out of nowhere and smacked me in the face. I was shocked when Jackson told me I’d hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never interfere in anything between you and Alejandro ever again. If it makes you feel any better, we haven’t even spoken since the night of the party.”

I’d stay away from Alejandro. But, I’d miss him for a lifetime.

“Sophie. You and I need to get something straight,” Lulu said. “My brother might run his mouth off, but he doesn’t speak for me.”

“Okay,” I said.

Blue rolled her eyes. “Just tell her, Lulu.”

“Jackson has always wanted Alex and I to be a couple. And don’t get me wrong. I’ve always liked the guy. We grew up together. Shared a couple of make out sessions in high school. After the accident everyone just assumed because we spent so much time together, we’d fall in love. But I never felt it for him. I never felt anything profound for anybody until a while after my accident. And no, I’m not going to tell you his name.”

“So this means, this means…” I stumbled with my words. “This means you’re not in love with Alejandro?”

“Good God, no,” Lulu said. “Maybe Jackson is. He’s been an asshat ever since we hit puberty. If you love Alex—by all means, go for it. And I apologize to you for not making this clear the night of the benefit. But everything that night was bat shit crazy.”

“It really was,” I said as my mind whirled with the possibilities.
Could we still have a chance? Would he take me back?
“Thank you,” I said and fumbled through my purse and pulled out a business card. Lizzie Sparks’s private email was inscribed on it. “Thank you so much.” I stood up and despite their protests, kissed them both on their cheeks. “You and Blue are the best. And I will keep in touch. I promise.”

“Or next time, I
will
break your toe,” Blue said.

* * *

I was back in Lizzie Sparks’ cozy office room with one barred window that was cracked open. She was in demand, so popular as a medical intuitive and so wise. I was so clueless. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d first met with her. I scrunched forward on an older upholstered chair and she sat across from me, holding my hand.

“I’m so glad you came back Sophie. How has your journey been?”

I didn’t know what to say. The world, my life, everything was all so different from three and a half months ago, when I first consulted with her.

“I came here for healing,” I said. “I thought I found it. But it wasn’t a modality or a guru. It wasn’t a technique or a surgical procedure. It was guy.”

She nodded. “Tell me his name. A little about him.”

“Alejandro Maxwell Levine. He’s kind. Funny. Loving. Sexy as sin…”

“Handsome.” Lizzie smiled.

“Oh my God, you have no idea!” I returned her smile. “He drove me all over Los Angeles looking for healing. He helped me so much. Then he told me his secrets. And they weren’t simple. He said he felt like a monster. That he broke people. But, honestly? He never meant to hurt anyone. He made a bad decision. He’s been paying for it ever since. He’s more than owned it.”

“Did you tell him your secrets?”

I extricated my hand from Lizzie’s, stood up and paced the small room.

“I tried. Our timing sucked.”

“Your timing was perfect,” Lizzie said.

“How can that be? I screwed up everything between us. He rescued me, you know.” I glared down at her. “From a bad choice I made. And then someone accidentally revealed my biggest secret. So I told him— everything.”

“But you didn’t,” Lizzie said. “You didn’t tell him everything.”

I shook my head. “I did. I’d already told him about my Nana. I told him about my MS. I told him the healers weren’t for a book. They were to save Nana’s life.”

“But you didn’t tell him the truth about why you left him. Why you pushed him away.”
 

“That’s obvious. I did it for him! With me out of the picture, I can practically predict his story. Some day when he’s living in his beautiful house, with his perfect wife and their two smart, healthy children that aren’t staring down the gun, scared about contracting some dreadful genetic-related disease—he’ll thank me.”

“He won’t. Because that’s not his story,” she said.

“Why not? If I could save one life out of this whole journey, at least I’ve saved his.”

“But you didn’t. You took it away when you didn’t allow him to make up his own mind. Because in this young man’s ‘story’—with his perfect house, wife and children—his life will still be incomplete. There will always be a missing puzzle piece. Why did the girl who said she loved him walk away so callously. He’ll never know. And that will eat at him like an ulcer.”
 

I started crying. “Have I screwed us up forever?”

“Maybe,” Lizzie said. “Maybe not. You need to track him down. Have a conversation with him. You need to make it right. No matter what the outcome.”

* * *

I thanked Lizzie. I was back in Venice and a plan was percolating in my brain. I wasn’t going to risk running into Pintdick today, so her assistant ordered a taxi for me.
 

My first visit was to Javier’s tattoo place, Inkbaby, on the boardwalk. I instructed the cabbie, to wait for me, meter running, on the closest cross street. I walked half a block and entered the shop. Javier chatted with a potential customer, showing him a variety template designs for tats. I bided my time pretending to check out designs for a few minutes until the man left. Javier swiveled his attention onto me. “Sophie!”

“Javier. Famous Venice Beach artist!”

He walked from behind the counter and regarded me with concern. “You’re all right. Thank God.” he said. “We didn’t hear anything about you and we were worried. You look thin. But you’re well, yes?”

“Kind of. My grandmother died.” I thumped my fist on top of my chest right over my heart. “My heart’s a little broken.”

“
Siento mucho la perdida
.” He leaned in and bear-hugged me with his muscular, painted up arms. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He released me. “It’s going to take a while, you know.”

“I know. Javier, look. I need to talk to Alejandro. He won’t return my calls. Have you seen him?”

He dropped my hands and sighed. “He was here a couple of weeks ago. But I haven’t heard from him since. Have you talked to one of the other Drivers? Like Nick?”

“Not yet. Great idea. Can I have his number?”

Javier pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me. It read, “DRIVER,” and had Nick’s name and contact info.

“You’re the best! I’ve got to run. If you see Alejandro or if he calls, would you tell him I was here? That I really need to talk with him?”

“You got it.”

* * *

The cabbie drove me to Alejandro’s house on Copa del Oro. The fare kept ticking skyward. When we arrived I paid him. Even if Alejandro wasn’t here, it would only take me a half hour or so to walk back to Cole’s place. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little money left over for things like food. He peeled off as I
 
hit the call button next to the closed gates and waited.
 

A few windows were open in the front of the house and I heard the gate’s buzzer ring lowly from inside. But no one answered. I fidgeted and then pushed the call button again. Waited another couple of minutes. Contemplated climbing the fence, then thought what a great impression that would make on Alejandro’s folks when I was arrested for breaking and entering. So I pushed the button again. Okay, truth be told, I banged on that damn buzzer five times in a row. I had to find Alejandro.

Thirty seconds later a short man marched from the side of the house toward the front gates and me.
 

“Oh yay!” I said. “You’re the same gentleman who wore the sombrero at the Levine’s picnic. I’m looking for Alejandro? Is he here?”

“No, miss.” He shrugged and eyed me through the slats.
 

“Do you expect him back today? Soon?”

“I do not know, miss.”

“Oh,” I said. “His parents? Are they here? Could I talk to them?”

“I’m sorry, miss, no. They are out of town.”

“Oh,” my heart sunk. “Can I leave you my contact info? My phone number, email? You could give it to his parents when they come back or if they call.”
 

“Yes, miss,” he said.” I scribbled my info onto a piece of scratch paper I dug out of my purse and handed it to him. I watched as he walked away. “Thank you, sir,” I hollered. “Thank you very much.”
 

I sighed and slumped back against their gate but an alarm went off and I jumped. Dang! I walked down Copa de Oro, past the mansions attended by the gardeners and maids and pool service trucks. I plucked the Driver’s card and my phone from my purse. I punched in a number and waited while it rang. He picked up. “Nick, it’s Sophie. You’ve got to help me.”

* * *

I sat in the passenger seat of Nick’s immaculate truck and watched the heat simmer in waves off the pavement lining the entrance to Union Station. Folks of all races, ages, walks of life entered and exited the doorways to this gorgeous Spanish styled train station. Two security guards kept an eye on them.
 

“Alejandro said he needed to get away. Go some place where he could just be himself, chill out and find shelter. He was torn up, Sophie. I haven’t seen him like that in years,” Nick said.

I was a terrible person. I had done a horrible thing to someone I loved.
 

“Shit,” I said. “Has he called? Is he all right?”

Nick shrugged. “Haven’t heard from him. Hey, I wish I could drive you farther, but things are tight around here with the new semester, the frat parties and the newly liberated, heads-up-their-collective-asses freshmen. We’re training a few new Drivers, but as you know, we’re missing one of our best.”

“I miss him too,” I said.

Nick slammed the steering wheel with his fist.

I jumped. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. For someone who just gave away his best buddy’s secret to the girl who broke his heart? I’m great.”

“I love him, Nick.”

He looked out his driver’s window. “I know, Sophie. Just don’t mess him up more than you already have.”

I placed my hand on top of his fist and squeezed it for a second. “Thank you.”
 

Chapter Twenty-eight

I took the train to San Diego and then caught a tour bus to Rosarito. Strangely enough it dropped me off at La Mar Hotel, where I grabbed a taxi. I tried to explain to the cabbie what Alejandro’s parents house looked like: gorgeous beachfront hacienda. Located in a gated community with security guards. But, unfortunately, there were over a hundred houses that matched that description.

He drove me to community after community, guardhouse after guardhouse. He’d pull up, say hello to the guards and inquire using Alejandro’s last name. “
La casa de Levine
?” The guards just shook their heads. I was frustrated, but it wasn’t really their fault. They were paid to protect—not offer up private information.
 

So here I was again, thousands of miles away from home. Feeling those glass shards from the broken beer bottle digging back into my face, migrating down through my chest and piercing my heart.

The sun was making its way toward the Pacific Ocean and I still hadn’t found Alejandro. I felt exhausted, weak and my hand started trembling. What was I thinking? At least I could have tried to track him down a little while longer before I ventured to a foreign country on my own. Why had I journeyed so far away, all by myself? And it hit me.
 

I raced down paths most people wouldn’t
tiptoe onto because it was out of their comfort zone, perhaps even dangerous
.
I traveled thousands of miles, crossed mountains, deserts and fires because I had hope. And if you had hope, maybe you could conquer a disease. Perhaps you could save a life.
 

So I journeyed for love: the first time for my Nana. The second time for Alejandro. No matter how we ended up—together or apart—I knew that I’d always love him. He’d always hold an exceptional piece of my soul, my heart, my mind. He was my first love. He sheltered me.

And it dawned on me…I asked the cab driver if he knew where Padre Morales’s orphanage was. His eyes widened in the rearview mirror’s reflection. He nodded and turned onto a road that led back into town. Fifteen minutes later we were in the midst of Rosarito’s non-touristy, gritty neighborhoods, with the hole-in-the-wall apartments and mom and pop stores.
 

The cabbie slowed to a stop next to the plain concrete block building surrounded by barbwire fence. “
Padre Morales
.”

“Yes.” I opened the passenger door, stepped out and glanced at the blood red door. The cabbie popped open the trunk, hauled out my suitcase and plopped it in front on the pavement. I knocked on the door, really hoped someone was home, dug through my purse for twenties and paid the cabbie. He pocketed the cash, eyed me and said, “
Buena suerte, señorita.
”

“
Gracias
.” I would take all the luck offered to me.