“I love you too, Hayes. I swear I do. But I can’t go through it anymore. I have to walk away.”
His tired eyes locked on mine. Then he turned over on his other side, away from me—I assumed so I wouldn’t see his sadness. I didn’t want him to see mine either. My heart felt heavy as my tears fell silently on my pillow. For ten years, Hayes’s hand had been the one I had held, his phone number the one I had memorized, his arms the place that kept me safe. Maybe it had been a false sense of security but, all the same, it had helped me through the hardest times of my life: my parents’ separations, Pops’s death, fights with friends. Suddenly, I felt intensely vulnerable.
A few hours later, still unable to sleep, I snuck out of bed and stepped out onto the small porch. I opened the email from Babs that I had downloaded earlier while connected to the spotty hotelWiFi. It had a header of the Carolina shore with pink flamingos saying,Wish You Were Here,and was perhaps the tackiest thing I had ever seen. It made me smile, which I assumed was its intention.
My dear Julia,
They say that love is grand, but I’m with you: Infatuation is the ticket. Well, for me, maybe. An old lady who has parted with the love of her life, who knows that there is neither the time nor the inclination to find again what she has lost. But you, my dear, have so much time, all the time in the world, for infatuation to turn into deep, true love. I know you are afraid of separating from Hayes. What a huge part of your heart he has! But I promise you, Julia darling, there are other loves out there for you. When you are ready, you’ll find the right man. When it’s time, you’ll know.
All my love,
Babs
I couldn’t help but think of Conner and the way he made me feel on that boat, so swept away and breathless. It was, of course, a way that Hayes had made me feel a million times too. Was any of it real? And how would I know? I sat down to write back.
Dear Babs,
I think it is finished. Actually finished this time. H leaves in the morning and I know it’s right. So how is it then that he is taking such a huge part of my heart with him? Why does it still hurt so much? I do wish that love was easier. I don’t know how you have managed to breathe after the loss of Pops. Haveyou found a way to be happy without him? I hope you have. If so, can you tell me the secret? See you soon!
All my love,
Julia
I tiptoed back into the room and placed the postcard on the end table. Suddenly, that big, comfortable bed looked so vast, so empty, so foreboding. Hayes was breathing softly, the light bathing him. I kissed my hand and put it to his cheek. A part of me wanted to crawl in bed beside him. I had always felt so small, so safe in his arms. But if the last year had taught me anything, it’s that sometimes safety can be deceiving. Sometimes safety is the disease, not the cure.
The next morning, I could hardly eat my breakfast. I was trying to be brave and strong as I sipped my coffee and looked out over the water, and then back at Hayes. Our little two-top table underneath the porch overhang held so many emotions that I thought it might break in two—like my heart.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Hayes said after we finished, setting his napkin down and looking forlorn. “Ten years of love swept out to sea in a moment.” We both laughed, albeit a little sadly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walking up the dock. I glanced over and did a double take, hoping it wasn’t obvious. I didn’t want Hayes to see Conner, in his white bathing suit and polo shirt, locking eyes with me. He put his hands over his heart and shrugged.
What could I do? I couldn’t run after him with Hayes right there. Maybe he didn’t deserve those last moments of just the twoof us together, but I believed that I did. This was my last chance to say goodbye to us, to our life together. But I wanted to signal that Conner wasn’t seeing what he thought he was seeing. I wasn’t taking Hayes back; I was seeing him off.
How did I encapsulate all of that in an unnoticeable movement? I shrugged, hoping he’d get the message. But when I did, Conner hung his head, turned, and walked back down the dock, which is when I knew I’d made the wrong movement. Shit. And that was it. I couldn’t call him. I couldn’t exactly google the boat’s satt phone number. As he had told me when we were together, his boat would be leaving today, heading off to new adventures with his friends and parents. I felt strongly, as I watched him walk away, that I would never see Conner again.
I focused back on Hayes, my sadness compounding. “I am always here for you, Julia,” he said. “I promise. You are my first and only love, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Ever.”
I smiled. “I feel the same.”
He stood up, and I stood too. He wrapped me in a hug, and I lingered there, my head on his chest, knowing it would be the last time, praying that I was making the right decision. He kissed me, and I let him. It was goodbye. It was forever. Then I watched as he made his way down the dock, walking with that distinguishable swagger that was his and his alone the entire way. He stepped onto a boat that would take him to the ferry. He turned, blew me a kiss. I didn’t catch it. I didn’t need it anymore.
I waved, watching as the boat pulled away from the dock, getting smaller and smaller and then disappearing into the blue horizon, the sky meeting the sea and obscuring everything—even this great big love that, like a river swallowed up by the ocean, had finally run its course.
BABSYoung Life
Ikept telling myself, as the Summer Acres movers put the last box in their truck, that this was going to be a lovely surprise for my daughters. Although they might not exactly be thrilled that I had decided to move with practically no notice, wouldn’t they at least be impressed I had managed to get all my possessions packed for the new town house without their help? Although I knew that not bothering them was perhaps what they were upset about most of the time.
Summer Acres had sent over a team of three ladies for three days to help me pack. I was paying them handily, but it was worth every penny to make decisions with unemotional bystanders who, for some reason, kept asking, “But does it bring youjoy?” I didn’t know. Could a person get true joy from an inanimate object? Plus, joy was a relative term. Easy Spirits were never going to bring me joy. Jimmy Choos brought me joy. But my feet would probably answer that question differently.
I was leaving almost all my furniture and larger possessions behind, but it was shocking how much I’d accumulated over the years. I had imagined leaving my house with a suitcase and a rack of hanging clothes. Instead, I was taking a rack of hanging clothes, a few pieces of special furniture, and nineteen boxes, six of them filled with books I positively could not leave behind.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t have a dramatic parting with my home. I would still be here often to visit, after all. But the night before the move, unable to sleep, I had walked from room to room taking in every detail, as though, after eighty years of this being my family beach house, I might forget something. Sure, the bathrooms had been updated, the kitchen redone, furniture moved in and out. But the wood paneling and original floors remained. The peerless view was the same, although the beach shrank or expanded from year to year depending on the storms. The wide front porch was as it had always been. It was only I who had really changed.
When had this place that had felt as natural to me as my own hands become frightening? When had the quiet become scary?
Deep down, I knew the answer.
I tried to remember the warm, cozy parts of that terrible night, the ones that reminded me of a crackling fire and a fresh vase of flowers, both of which had been part of the scenery.
