We've been tip-toeing around each other, staying in the clear boundaries she had drawn for us. We texted frequently throughout the week and spent most weekends together. There were dinners on Saturdays and strolls through the farmer’s market on Sunday mornings. Every day I spent with her had me inching closer and closer to the line between us.
My camera was fixed on the front entrance of Lobo Castle in Agoura Hills, CA. The stone masonry that was taken from the surrounding canyon was remarkable. I was surprised by the number of “castles” that were in California. I used the term a bit loosely, as none of them could even compare with the sites Europe had to offer and the history that went along with them, but still, impressive.
Twelve hours until my flight, twenty-fourish until I could see her again, but who was counting, right?
Lennon and I had started a tradition, for lack of a better word. It was silly, but it kept her smiling when we were together, and that was what mattered. Every week, we decided on a movie, and we paired a home cooked dinner with it. Sometimes, we did drinks to match or a dessert, but the time we took to work together had been the highlight of my return home. Lennon was always full of laughter and quick remarks on my less than stellar cooking. It was so easy being around her.
I was living out of a too small Airbnb while I was in California, so every dinner was at her house, which was immaculate. There was not a frame or pillow out of place; it seemed as if nothing ever moved or changed. She gave me a quick tour the first time I came over. I saw every room except hers. That door always remained firmly shut when I was over, and I swear it was on purpose. It seemed as though she kept that side of her, the more intimate side, hidden from me. A quick chime came from my phone.
How do you feel aboutmagic…?
I smiled down at my phone like an idiot. It doesn’t take a genius to know where this was going. I shot back a quick reply.
Hate it, definitely the worst movie option to choose.
There was an angry face emoji on my screen now, along with a slough of GIFs of people giving me the thumbs down.
Too bad. It’s my week, and I’m choosing.
She was as predictable as she was at eighteen, but it’s what I loved most about her.
I cringed at my internal thoughts, but I really couldn’t help it. When I left her seventeen years ago, it wasn’t because I had fallen out of love with her. Very much the opposite. I needed to leave for her, and now it was like I was picking back up in the same spot I left her.
Years ago, she buried herself into my soul, into the very fiber of my being, and I was content with letting her consume me. Then, by some grace, she loved me back, and I knew I would spend the rest of my life being the best person I could possibly be for her. Everything about the love we shared burned bright.
She was all I wanted to be around, but she couldn’t always be around me. She had Abby to think about and often chose to stay home to help shield her from the chaos that ensued their house. Without trying, I found myself falling into a crowd that was everything Lennon wasn’t.
It was slow at first, a few drinks at a kickback or a party someone in our class was throwing. Lennon would rarely want to come.I knew she was a bit guarded when it came to drinking. Her mother was terrible, drunk every night and every morning, blaming Lennon and her sister for her problems. The cycle was never ending, and most nights I would sneak out to be with her and hold her as she cried.
I never imagined that I would end up on the same path, but partying once on the weekend turned into every weekend night to a few times during the week as well. I fell into a crowd where it all seemed normal, but then I realized I was biding my time with her until I could get away and find the next party.
It didn’t take long for me to start failing out of school or missing shifts at work. Everything began breaking into pieces around me, and it was all my fault. Instead of working on myself or asking for help, I would seek out the next party, my next drink, anything to mask the issue I had been causing. I didn’t want to admit that I might have had a problem.
I was young, I told myself, I was like every other high school kid. They partied, they didn’t have a problem with alcohol.
Then I caught myself lying to her.
We had plans to go to the movies one night, but there was a party a few towns over that I found out about at the last minute. Without a second thought, I told her I was suddenly sick, and I had to stay home. She was so understanding. Offered to bring me food or medicine, but I fell into the lie so easily, and she never had any reason to second guess me. So I turned off my phone and spent the night drinking with people whose names I didn'teven remember.
The next day I had a hangover that lasted days. My parents had their suspicions, but stumbling home that night was their last straw. The next morning, they sat me down and told me they had plans to move to the East Coast. I could either stay here and continue on the path I was on, or I could come with them and I could get the help that I needed. It didn’t take me long to hear about the couple from the party that drove home drunk, either. They lost control of the car and wrapped it around a tree. The girl died and her boyfriend spent the next ten years in jail. All I could think of was Lennon and it made my decision easier.
I had been sending everything down the drain—my life, my relationship—and I didn’t know how to fix it. And what’s worse, the guilt from lying to the one person who always saw the best in me started to gnaw away at my heart. I didn’t want to live like that any longer and my urge to drink wasn’t going away on its own, so I decided to leave with my parents.
The right thing would have been to tell her what I was going through, but I didn’t know how to explain what I barely understood. So I took the coward’s way out and didn’t. I thought a few months would be enough, and I could come back to her, beg for forgiveness. A few months away turned into a few years and then she was married, and I was too late.
There were a thousand different ways I could have asked for her to wait for me, and parts of me wished I would have. It wasn’t the path that was written out for us, but I was here now, and I would do whatever it took to stay.
One of the better things about the work on the West Coast was the shorter commutes. Every flight within California was a few hours tops for me. I wasn’t stuck in customs every time I crossed a border, and there were no translation apps or books needed. It had been a breeze, so by the time I stepped off my flight from LA the next morning, I didn’t feel like I needed a day’s rest from the amount of travel. Which was great for me, but I needed to find something to occupy the rest of my day until I could get back to her.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I’d edited most of the photos from Lobo Castle, and my eyes were straining to see straight. I was walking up the pathway to Lennon’s house, rubbing the heel of my hand into my eyes, while the smell of lavender wafted up from the plants that lined her walkway. She lived in an achingly charming house that was painted a uniquely Lennon green color. White flowers lined the front windows and were spilling out over the boxes. It was a house that you see in movies, the kind you live happily ever after in. My heart seized at the thought that it was not how she ended up.
She appeared in the open kitchen windows, and there was some song playing but it was being drowned out by the sound of her voice singing over it. She was swaying back and forth, using a pair of tongs as a makeshift microphone. Her long hair was swept up off her bare shoulders and was in a bun on top of her head with curls falling out around her face; she was absolutely breathtaking like this.
Carefree.
Happy.
I knocked a few times, but she couldn’t hear over the music, so I opened the door and walked inside. I propped myself up against the doorframe of the kitchen with one shoulder, crossing my arms across my chest, waiting for her to notice me. She still hadn’t seen me, but the song was winding down and she hit some note she had no business trying to sing. I began to slow clap for her performance as she jumped about a foot in the air, shrieking at my sudden appearance.
