I brushed a strand of hair from my face. “What about Debra? I thought you weren’t seeing her?” My tone lacked venom, and came out as a question.
“I haven’t been since I was here. And I won’t again for a while. I made a lot of mistakes with our relationship I don’t want to repeat. I don’t want to hurt anyone the way I hurt you.”
“Do you love her?” I toyed with my hair as it fell down my right shoulder.
“Yes.” He said it without hesitation while looking out the window.
“Does she love you?”
“Yes.”
His confession didn’t bother me. Somehow, it made it easier to realize we were both moving toward something better. “Then you should be with her, not here.”
Gary walked over to me and touched my shoulders. “I don’t want to leave you, not like this. I know I screwed up everything else, but let me get this right. Please.”
I slid from beneath his touch and pointed around the room. “I’d like to be alone to pack. Can you go somewhere else while I get my things together?”
Gary frowned and looked at the oxygen tank. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. You’re too weak. What if you fall or faint?”
“I won’t,” I said, making a promise I didn’t know if I could keep. “For few more hours. I just want one last sunset here, and then I’ll be ready. Please. I need to do this by myself.”
Gary looked at my determined frown. He crossed his arms over his chest while mulling over my request.
“I have to do this,” I said. “And I have to do it alone so I can say goodbye.”
He finally nodded. “Okay.”
He slid open the door and stepped outside. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No.”
Gary nodded and pulled out his keys. “I’ll be back at dusk. Be ready.”
“I will,” I promised. For a moment, I listened. After hearing his footfalls on the stairs and the engine rev to life, I knew he was truly gone and I was alone in Tyler’s house for the very last time.
I wandered around the rooms, feeling more lost than ever as time passed me by. I watched the sunlight shift as it cut shapes into the carpet and furniture. Outside, the waves hummed toward the shore. Above the tidal rhythm, I heard the gulls crying to each other. Beneath all other noises, I heard my heartbeat quickening. “Oh, God,” I whispered as tears pricked my eyes. Even the air of the room smelled of the pine cologne Tyler had used. Or was I imagining it, remembering the way his skin had smelled? Suddenly, the salty taste of sweat touched my tongue as I remembered making love to Tyler, kissing his temple, his sweat upon into my lips.
I could smell him. I could taste him. I just couldn’t have him.
I wrapped my arms around my body, bracing myself against a chill. I brushed my arms up and down and suddenly remembered Tyler’s voice asking me, “Are you cold? You’ve been doing that for a while.”
My hands dropped to my sides and I clung to his voice. It warmed me. I closed my eyes and conjured up his face, smiling as I saw his grin. He had loved me. He had given me a reason to live.
Tyler had been right when he had said this was my home. I’d never felt so close to a house, so close to another human being as the one I’d thought I could leave behind in this world. Instead, he had left me.
Chapter Nineteen
I peered around the room that had become so intimate in the last few months and suddenly it seemed like my life before Tyler had been a surreal dream, a shell the ocean had tumbled about. Outside, the water rumbled to the shore, breaking the deep silence which had blossomed in the room. A shaft of sunlight edged into the room and carved a swatch of brightness into a section of the couch. Stillness.
I sat on the couch but shied away from the feel of sunlight. Placing my head in my hands, I finally asked, “So why did you do it, Tyler?” My voice quivered with tears, and I let them wash my skin with their pain.
I opened the letter and re-read it, even though I knew each word by heart. More tears spilled down my face, and I set it aside before standing and walking back to the bedroom where we’d made love so many times. The netting which hung from the ceiling completely shrouded the bed from view, yet in my mind, I saw our bodies joined together against those floral sheets, flesh spilling onto flesh, mouths meeting each other—a tangle of arms and legs that met under moon glow. The smell of salt and pine that consecrated his skin. And I swam in the memories of our short time together as time drifted around me.
I closed my eyes, trying not to see the past, but there are some things our hearts cannot brush aside. On the nightstand I saw a picture Tyler had taken of me sitting in his biplane. It had been before take-off. My wide eyes brimmed with uncertainty, and yet my smile had been so trusting, so sure that this would work out because Tyler had been the pilot. I had trusted him implicitly as the navigator of my flesh, my soul.
I thought of his hands, the simple scar which marred his flesh. Even that had had a beginning and end, a map to navigate its journey. Still, even pain had an end. Those hands had touched my face, and those arms had carried me. That heart had borne my sorrow, and I ached to feel him once again so I could trace that scar.
Come when you are ready. Outside, the tide rinsed the shore and swept back into itself. I picked up the picture, and for the first time, I knew. Tyler was still navigating. He hadn’t chosen to end his life out of grief, but out of rebirth. He expected to find me when I left this world, expected to navigate the same path and arrive at the same destination just the way our lives had intersected that moment on the beach. I had never expected to find a home within his body that would not be broken by death.
I pulled the small oxygen plug from my nose. At once, I could feel the volume of air I inhaled diminished as I gasped. I set the picture on the nightstand and headed through the house toward the sliding door. Each step ached with mortal certainty of this body being too damned tired. I stumbled just short of the door, and it took everything I had to keep moving. While walking, I clutched at everything I passed to keep my balance.
I hobbled out the door and walked down the steps slowly, afraid the sudden spinning in my head would throw me off-balance, causing me to fall. Halfway down, I stopped and tried to catch my breath while staring at the clearest sky, fused with golden light as the sun edged towards its nightly destination. Briefly, I thought about how humans learned. We often remember the beginning and end, but rarely the middle.
I could not remember my first sunset. But I would never forget this last one. My only regret would be that Tyler was not beside me as the gold painted the sky and water, but I stared at it, memorizing the colors fused across the sky, savoring each detail enough for both of us. The chilly air brushed my skin lightly. I pulled the rubber band from the end of my braid and let the thick strands fly free in the wind like ribbons of brown silk on a windsock.
Finally convinced my breathing would not get any easier, I finished the stairs, ignoring the fatigue mounting in my body. I didn’t have far to go. I took off my shoes and stepped toward the water, leaving careful footprints in the damp sand. I didn’t care that the ocean would wash them away. I had left permanent prints in Tyler’s heart.
I stopped at the water’s edge and started collecting all the shells I could find. I stuffed them deep in my pockets. Then I sat on the beach for the next hour waiting for sunset and realized it was the ocean waves which told me he would be back. The dance of water reminded me of our bodies touching when we’d made love, parting only to exist and breathe. Ebb and flow. The gentle waves caressed me like his fingers on my skin. His voice called to me under the hum of crashing tides. I inhaled his memory in the salted air.
Two gulls circled overhead, crying to each other. I lifted my hand to my eyes and stared at them, at the spiraling wings. They moved toward each other and away, mimicking the ocean's movements. Each flutter of wings completed the next. The white feathers were blinding against the sky. The two bodies dipped and soared, never more than inches a
part, never farther than a single wingspan.
Tyler.
He would be back. He would not forget me. He would never leave me.
I stood slowly, ignoring my aching body and stared into the blue ocean, searching for the catamaran. I did not see it and did not expect to. But my heart knew as it stared into the bright blue seas. I stepped toward the water, wading, ignoring the cold biting my flesh, chilling me with each new, deeper step that brought me closer to him.
Come when you are ready.
The sun dipped deep into the horizon. In moments, the sherbet would slip beneath the night’s blanket and sleep. I stared at the residue of daylight and memorized the brightness, for once unafraid of blindness. I wrapped my arms around my chest, suddenly aware I had been blind for too long and for once saw perfectly.
The water lapped at my shoulders when I heard Gary yell, “Kelly! What are you doing?” A second of silence before he yelled again, “Kelly, for God’s sake stay there. I’m coming to get you!” His voice was panicked. The gulls cried to each other, giving his voice a frantic music. I looked upward at the magical white wings and listened to their song one last time before I headed home to Tyler.
At one time, I might have wondered why Gary wanted me to return. Now I didn’t care. I did not turn, but let my body slide under the unbreakable cold.
I am ready, Tyler.
Breath left me quickly, and I did not have the strength to cling to it. My body knew the air was not wanted. For just a moment, the pain ripped through me. Then peace and silence. My chest finally rested with stillness.
Moments later I saw it, the glowing flesh of a hand reaching toward me, fingers extended. I reached out and took it, feeling the warmth of it suffusing through me. The I saw the eyes, the nose, the mouth. Dark hair spilled into the water, haloing a face. Tyler. Blue eyes peered at me, an ocean within an ocean. His fingers curled around my hand, each of them softly pressing, stroking. His skin warmed mine. He pulled me through the water, propelling me forward. Our bodies moved together in unison with the ocean’s ancient rhythm.
I love you, Kelly. Tyler’s voice spilled into my mind.
We arched through the water, stroked by the coolness, and the world seemed silently alive as schools of fish darted around us. Tyler pointed to the surface, and I saw the thick outlines of a catamaran’s hulls. Tyler smiled at me. For once, for now, for always, we had left behind a temporary world for one more permanent where we could be together. I held his hand, swimming toward the brightening edge of the deep below.
A Sleep of Years
(Sample Chapter)
By
Maria Rachel Hooley
A Sleep of Years
© 2009 Maria Rachel Hooley
ISBN 1448654580
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed review without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Dedication
For RWR, who found out too early what angel song sounds like.
Book One
Chapter One
“You’re what?” Waylan asked. He sat beside me, nervously tracing the flowers on my maroon bedspread.
“I’m pregnant,” I whispered, avoiding his eyes and focusing instead on the large, pink blossom under his hand.
Waylan abruptly rose and paced past the Titanic poster then stopped at my desk and paced the other way. “It’s a mistake, Jen,” he finally managed. His shoulders slumped, and his head tilted forward. “Damn. It’s got to be a mistake.”
I smoothed the bedspread, erasing the wrinkles where he’d been. “No, it’s not.”
Waylan raked his fingers through his hair. “It could’ve been a bad test. Or you could’ve….” His voice died as I stared into blue eyes that looked like storms had danced across them.
I folded my hands in my lap. “Or I could’ve messed it up. Done something wrong,” I finished. “Is that what you think?”
“Jen, just wait a minute—” Waylan’s arms hung limply. His large white tee-shirt had come untucked from his jeans.
“No, you wait a minute.” I walked to the dresser. Digging under my panties, I found them--three hard, plastic squares with faint red plus signs.
I slipped them into his outstretched palm. “I did it three times. Three damned plus signs.” Tears burned my throat as I tried to bury them. “And I prayed...harder each time.” I gulped air. “I thought maybe if I said the right thing God would listen, but He didn’t.”
Waylan dumped the squares on the bed and reached for me. “Take it easy, Jen. Breathe.”
I slipped into his embrace and closed my eyes, wishing everything would vanish. “How am I going to tell my parents?”
Waylan rubbed his hands down my back softly, reassuringly. “I don’t know.”
“They’re going to kill me. My dad is going to be humiliated.” My whole body trembled as though it were twenty degrees in the room.
“What if we didn’t tell them?”
“What?” I tried to remember what I knew about having a baby. It was late September, and I’d missed two periods. Would I show at three or four months?
“Maybe we won’t have to,” Waylan repeated, louder.
I shook my head. “But that’s crazy. They’ll figure it out. They’ll see.” My voice quivered, thinning.
Waylan slowly released me. “Jesus, Jen.” He frowned, hard worry lines etched into his face. Stale afternoon sunlight slipped through the window. “I’m a junior, and you’re only a sophomore. We can’t have a baby, not now.” He paced the room like a caged tiger.
“But we are having a baby,” I argued in a shrill voice. “I’m carrying your child, Waylan.” I slumped onto the bed, cradling my head in both hands. “My dad’s going to kill me.” My whole body began trembling as though I cried without tears. “I’m supposed to be the responsible child.”
He turned toward the window. Sunlight haloed his tall, lanky shoulders. His hands settled on his hips, and he threaded his fingers through his jean belt loops. The monogrammed bracelet I’d given him last Christmas glittered. “Don’t panic.”
“I can’t help it,” I whispered, imaging my flat stomach bulging. I closed my eyes, cringing. I didn’t want to be fat. I didn’t want this baby. Why hadn’t God given it to a couple who had been trying to have a baby for years? Wasn’t that what miracles were for?
“Come here,” he said and gathered me into his arms. “I know you’re scared. I am, too. We’ve got to think about this, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
“Okay.” I drew in a shuddering breath and leaned into him. Waylan brushed a finger through my hair, lifted a few long strands over my shoulder, and kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl.”
The sound of the front door rattling open and closed warned us my mother had arrived home from work. Taking an uneasy breath, I snatched the pregnancy tests from the bed where Waylan had laid them and shoved them back into my drawer.
“Jen?” My mother came toward my room.
I leaned in front of the dresser as though conveniently placing my body there would mask our terrible secret. “Yeah, Mom?”
She opened the door, looking first at Waylan and then at me. Her fingers gripped the doorknob tightly, and I could tell she didn’t like the door being closed.
“Waylan was just helping with homework.”
“Why don’t you work at the kitchen table? At least you can still find it.” She pointed at my cluttered desk. “It would be hard to get any work done there.”
She turned and smiled at my boyfriend. “Hello, Waylan.” Against her bright yellow blazer, a gold cello pin glittered. It had been years since she had played her cello, but I remembered her music from when I was small. I used to hear it before I drifted to sleep.
Her perfume filled the air, and I closed my eyes, savoring the way it seemed to melt the years. She’d
always worn Channel No. 5, and in that scent, I floundered, wishing I could go back to being a child and crawl into her lap.
“Hi, Mrs. Landry.” Waylan replied quietly as he pretended to spot a scrap of paper on the floor that he picked up and threw away.
Mom quickly turned to me. “Where is your sister?”
My fingers tapped the dresser. “Track practice.” I felt like I was five again, sitting at the piano bench and posturing myself appropriately.
She turned to Waylan. “Are you staying for dinner? We’re having meatloaf.”
Waylan’s gaze lifted just long enough to say, “No,” before falling again as he tagged on, “thank you, ma’am.” He peered at his watch. “I guess I’d better go home. I’ve got a calculus test tomorrow.”
Mom disappeared through the doorway as I called out, “I’ll be out in a few minutes to help.”
“Okay.” She gave me a meaningful look that suggested I leave the door open.
Once she’d gone, I exhaled slowly and felt my shoulders slump. I jerked my hands from the dresser. Tears blurred my vision. I hadn’t done anything wrong right then. I hadn’t lied, and I hadn’t been a disrespectful daughter. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Except gotten pregnant.
My mother had always tried to talk about everything, but this wasn’t something I could share, not now and possibly not ever.
“Jen, it’s going to be okay,” Waylan said, staring at my trembling hands. He took them and pulled me to him. “We’ll get through this—one way or another.”
I laid my head on his chest and listened to the drumming of his heart. “I’m really scared.”
He rested his chin on the top of my head. “That makes two of us. But we’re in this together.”