Someone You Love by Kristen Granata
Charly
August 23rd
Dear Mom,
This is not how I imagined my last day in Maine. Bryce and I have passed like ships in the night all week. Or it’s more like he walks into the room, and I leave because I just can’t bear to look at him and not touch him or kiss him the way I want to. I knew it’d hurt at the end of the summer, but I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t expect Bryce to break my heart.
But what else can I do, Mom? He’s convinced himself we won’t last, and I can’t prove we will. I wish he could see how scared I am—just as much as he is—but that I’m willing to take the risk because being happy with him right now is worth whatever pain might come later. I know he’s been hurt, but so have I. We’ve both lost important people, and we’ve both been betrayed by the ones we loved. That’s what bonded us. That’s what helped us get each other. We had a connection deeper than I’ve ever felt. Now ... we have nothing.
And it’s tearing me apart.
Is this how you felt when Dad left? Did it twist up your insides when you watched him pack his things, and walk out the door forever?
A tear slips down my cheek, and splats onto the paper, blurring the ink on the last line. I close my journal, and shove it back under my pillow.
I roll over, and glance at Mom’s bucket list on the nightstand.
Things to Do
1. Ride a bike through Central Park
2. Volunteer at an animal shelter
3. Get makeovers at Macy’s
4. Spend the summer in a new town
5. Go camping
6. Try a new food
7. Take salsa lessons
8. Get matching tattoos
9. Ride a jet ski
10. Go to a Taylor Swift concert
11. Stay up all night and watch the sunrise
There’s only one more item left to cross off, and I’m determined to watch the sunrise before I leave.
I just wish I could watch it with Bryce.
A tap on the door pulls my attention. I scoot up to sitting, and wipe my eyes just as Beatrice’s silver head pokes through the crack. “May I come in?”
“Of course.”
She glances down at my open suitcase filled with piles of folded clothes, and a frown tugs the corners of her lips. “Packed already?”
I nod, hugging my knees to my chest. “Just making sure I don’t forget anything at the last minute.”
“That’s smart.” She lowers herself to the edge of my bed, and rests her hand on top of Edward’s head as he peels open one eye to acknowledge her. “Are you coming to dinner? It’s your last night with us.”
I pick at an imaginary lint on the comforter, averting my eyes from her knowing gaze. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Pfft. You’re a terrible liar, my dear.”
I rest my chin on the top of my knee. “I know.”
“Please come. I want to soak up every last minute with you.” She grips my forearm. “Don’t punish me because my grandson has his head up his ass.”
My bottom lip trembles. “I’m not trying to punish you. I’m sorry.” I lean forward, and wrap my arms around her bony frame. “You’re right. I’ll come to dinner.”
She hugs me back, holding me tight and letting me know it’s okay to fall apart in her arms. But I can’t let myself do that. Not here. Not yet. I can stay strong until I get back home.
Home.
Just the thought of going back to the empty apartment filled with Mom’s belongings feels like a sword through my chest. This getaway was a wonderful distraction, but now it’s time to go back to reality.
Maybe that’s all this was between me and Bryce. A distraction. We both allowed ourselves to get lost in each other for the duration of my trip, and it was fun, but maybe it just wasn’t meant to last.
A summer fling.
That’s what I have to tell myself.
Beatrice pulls back, and smooths her hand over my cheek. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I wish there was something more I could do.”
“It’s okay. It is what it is.” I roll my eyes. “It was silly to think we’d last when we’re seven hours apart. Bryce is right. This is for the best.”
The lie stings my tongue like acid. I’ll need to practice that a few more times.
I stand without meeting Beatrice’s eyes, and pull a brush through my matted strands. “I’ll meet you at the inn. Just give me a few minutes to make myself look presentable.”
Beatrice watches me, hesitating a moment before she pushes off the mattress. “All right, my dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”
After fussing with my hair, I give in and twist it up into a bun. I dab concealer under my puffy eyes, and swipe clear gloss across my lips. If only I had a suit of armor to step into.
“You ready, Edward?” He lifts his head, not making any move to get up. “Trust me, I’d rather stay in bed with you until the morning. But we have to put on a brave face for Beatrice. She did a lot for us. She gave us a home this summer.”
We walk across the yard, and I cast a longing glance at the pool as I drag my feet past it.
Goodbye, beautiful pool.
Inside the lobby, the memory of the first time I saw Bryce sucker-punches me in the gut. I duck my head, and make a beeline to the library, nestling Peter Pan back between two books on the shelf.
Goodbye, library.
I enter the dining room, and my eyes go wide. A handmade banner hangs above the entrance to the kitchen: See You Later, Charly. Beatrice stands with several guests, and they all raise their glasses to me.
“To our last night with my beautiful Charly.” Beatrice grins. “But it’s not goodbye. It’s see you later, my dear.”
Tears sting my eyes, and my throat thickens, making it difficult to swallow. “Oh, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”
“Nonsense. Come sit.”
The food is already on the table, platters filled with the fresh Maine seafood I’ll miss so much. My heart drops, Bryce’s absence the most noticeable thing in the room.
I busy myself serving the guests first like I always do, making small-talk and laughing on cue.
When we run out of water, Beatrice hands me the empty carafe. “Would you mind filling this up for me, dear?”
I stand and take the pitcher from her, glancing at the guests around the table. “Roger, would you like another beer?”
He tips his chin. “Please.”
I take his empty bottle, and bump open the door with my backside. But both items fall from my hands as soon as I spin around and come face to face with Bryce in the kitchen. Glass shatters all around my feet, and I stand frozen like a deer in the headlights looking into those onyx eyes. His hair is disheveled, like he’s run his fingers through it dozens of times, and purple crescent moons stain the skin above his cheekbones. He looks the way I feel—broken, and lost—and I wonder if he sees it on me too.
If I stare at him any longer, I’ll shatter like the glass below me. I kneel down, and start collecting the jagged shards.
Bryce reaches down for the glass in my hand. “Don’t. You’ll cut yourself.”
I jerk away from his touch, and a piece of glass punctures my palm. Bright red blood trickles down my skin. I grit my teeth, and rush toward the sink.
Bryce crowds my space again, gripping my wrist and running it under the faucet.
I hiss. “Ow. That stings.”
“I told you, you’d cut yourself.”
I glare up at him. “Yes, you were right. You know everything, don’t you?”
A warm breath leaves his lips, and I scold myself for looking. He wads up a ball of paper towels, and presses it against my hand. “Hold this here.” He yanks open a cabinet above the sink, and pulls out a first-aid kit.
With gentle care, he cleans my wound with peroxide, and bandages it up. He cradles my hand, and presses a delicate kiss over the band-aid. “Good as new.”
Goosebumps shoot up my arm, and it’s impossible to hide my body’s reaction to him. The longer he stands this close to me, touching me, holding me captive with his gaze, the harder it is to breathe. I want to reach out, and stroke his cheek. I want to taste his lush mouth. I want to curl inside his embrace, and feel the comfort of his warmth surrounding me.
But that won’t do me any good. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to be with me. So, I slip my hand out of his, and head to the closet for a broom.
“Do you hate me?”
His question stops me in my tracks.
Hate? Is that what he thinks this is? Would that make it easier for him?
With my back to him, I answer with the truth. “No.”
Glass crunches under his feet as he moves around the island to stand behind me, close enough so I know he’s there, but far enough that I can’t feel him. “You still have one more thing left on your list.”
“I’m doing it tonight. Figure I’ll stay up all night, and then sleep on the seven-hour train ride back into New York.” I peek over my shoulder at him. “Then I’ll be out of your life.”
“Charly, that’s not—”
“Everything all right in here?” Nana pokes her head through the doorway, craning her neck to assess the damage. “Bryce, you can handle this, right? Charly has a dinner to get back to.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth, and gives her a reluctant nod. “Of course.”
I don’t see Bryce for the remainder of the night. He stays busy in the kitchen, and Nana puts him on dish duty. She whisks me outside, and we sit in the wicker rocking chairs watching the sun sink into the pink and orange sky.
“How’s your hand?”
I give her a sad smile. “It’s not my hand that hurts.”
She nods before bringing her teacup to her lips. “I’ve been doing a lot of research since the festival last week.”
“Research?”
“About disabled people.” She skims her index finger around the rim of the cup. “Bryce was angry with me. He said a lot of things ... things I didn’t even know I was doing. I want to learn. I want to understand. I want to be better for him.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“I’ve learned a lot from watching you with him, you know.”
My eyebrows lift. “Me?”
“You look at him differently than I do. You don’t look at him like he’s fragile. You let him tell you what he wants, what he needs. That’s why he opened up to you. I got to see him come out of his shell this summer, and it’s because of you.” She extends her hand over her armrest, and I reach out to clasp it. “Thank you for making him so happy.”
A ball of emotion lodges in my throat. “Obviously I didn’t do enough. Otherwise he wouldn’t have pushed me away at the end of it all.”
“Oh, you did more than enough, my dear. Don’t put this on yourself. This isn’t because of something you did, or didn’t do. Do you hear me? This is something Bryce has to face.” She squeezes my hand, giving it a firm shake. “Just like your father didn’t leave because of you, and just like your mother didn’t die because you didn’t do enough to cure her. There are things you can’t control, no matter how hard you try to. Stop putting such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You try your best, and your best is always enough because it’s what you are made of. Remember what I told you when you first came to Sunnyside? The people who choose to leave you weren’t meant for you. Let them go, and keep moving forward.”
My voice tembles as I speak. “I thought Bryce was meant for me.”
She smooths her thumb over the top of my hand. “I wouldn’t count him out just yet. I think he still has a lot of demons to work through—and that’s something you can’t snap your fingers to make better.”
Beatrice is right. No matter what I do, sometimes my best isn’t enough for some people. And that’s not my fault. It doesn’t mean I’m the one lacking. My father had his own struggle with addiction to work through, and my mother’s cancer couldn’t be beaten by the best doctors in the city. Whatever Bryce is going through is bigger than him not being able to put his faith in me, or in what we have. Everyone’s fighting their own fight, and it’s not as personal as we perceive it to be. We can’t make anyone do or want or feel the same things we do. All we can do is love them, and hope they do the work to overcome it.
“I have one final question for you, my dear.” Beatrice turns to me. “When you first came to Sunnyside, I told you this place would heal you. Do you feel like that’s true?”
I let my head fall back against the chair as I gaze up at the darkening sky. “I do. I definitely came here for an escape, to lick my wounds. But it’s been more than grieving the loss of my mother. I feel like I worked through some of the pain I’ve been holding on to regarding my dad. I don’t feel so angry with him. Honestly, I feel sad for him, and I wish I knew if he’s okay now. If he’s still around.”
“Maybe you’ll find him someday. Lots of people reconnect with long lost family members.”
“Maybe.” I look into Beatrice’s kind eyes. “Most of all, I had the time of my life here. I’ll never forget this summer. I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality, and for your friendship.”
She dabs the corner of her eyes with her pinkies. “The pleasure was all mine, my dear. You changed us here—both me and Bryce.”
We sit in silence until Beatrice finishes her last sip of tea, and then we say goodnight.
Edward and I walk along the path to Bryce’s house, but my feet falter when my eyes land on a tent beside the pool. Bryce sits at the edge, dangling his legs into the water, staring down at his hands in his lap. A thick line creases his eyebrows, his shoulders hunched forward, and his perfect lips pull downward. He looks torn up, this strong, beautiful giant seeming so small and broken.
My heart hurts for him at the same time it hurts because of him. Then I realize: He’s in more pain than I am. I’ve been hurt before, but I still let myself live, and love, and hold on to hope that something more is out there for me. Bryce doesn’t let himself do any of those things though. He closes himself off, and he prevents himself from truly feeling anything because he’s afraid of what might go wrong. And what kind of life is he leading without putting his faith in anything, or anyone?
A life filled with emptiness and despair.
Edward pulls against his leash, and I let it slip from my fingers so he can run to Bryce.
Bryce’s head jerks up at the sound of Edward’s collar jingling, and then his eyes are on me.
I gesture to the tent as I approach. “What is this?”
He uses his cane to pull himself up. “I know you’re angry with me, and I know you’ve been avoiding me all week. But you’re leaving tomorrow, and I wanted to do something special for you.” He pauses. “One last time.”
I gaze up into his eyes, searching for the right words that’ll make him change his mind about us. Something that’ll make him feel better. Anything to make him see what he’s doing is only hurting himself.
“Please.” His hand reaches out for mine, and I’m frozen under his touch. “Watch the sunrise with me.”
Edward trots inside the tent, curling up in a ball on the blankets, and I can’t help but smile at him through the welling tears. The happy-go-lucky dog doesn’t know that when the sun comes up tomorrow, I’m leaving him behind.
A lone salty tear slips free, and Bryce catches it with his thumb. He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him before he can.
“Okay. One last time.”
Bryce and I spend the night wrapped around each other, holding on as if we’ll float away if we loosen our grip even the tiniest bit. I breathe him in, letting his essence fill my lungs and course through me, and I commit every sense to memory—the softness of his skin; his thick hair; his rough beard; the curve of his upper lip; the exact shade of his inky irises.
We don’t speak. There’s nothing left to say, nothing that words could do justice for.
In the morning, after the gradual rise of the bright sun promises a new day, I let my heavy eyelids droop closed, reveling in the warmth of Bryce’s arms for the last time.
But when I open them again, he’s gone.