Damaged, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 4) (9 page)
My hand goes to my mouth to suppress the cry forming in my throat. My legs can barely stand to hold me any longer so I let myself fall the last few inches to the ground, the soft grass cool and welcome against the thin material of my dress.
“Just when I think I know everything about you, you do something so unexpected,” I cry through fresh falling tears. “So amazing,” I clarify.
“I love you, Layla. I always have and I always will. This is just another way for me to tell you.”
‘I think deep down I knew you were slowly falling out of love with me, whether you realized it or not, and every day I watched that light fade just a little bit more,’
he had said to me at dinner on the rooftop of the Canary. How could anyone have so much unconditional kindness in their heart to build a home for someone they loved but whom they believed was falling out of love with them? Had he ever lost faith in our relationship at all? Even when we were at our worst, during the moments when it seemed like everything about us was gone and all that was left was our bond to each other through Tyler?
I reach to the cement slab and hover my hand above the impression of our son’s hand, marveling at how tiny and perfect he was and how deeply I miss him now.
“So do you think, Lay?” he asks me after a long stretch of silence. “Are you home now?”
The drive back to Santa Barbara is quiet. The Tiffany key ring and the key to the breathtaking house attached to it sits delicately in my fingers. Despite everything - that it was built in a different time, that it was meant for our family - I accepted his staggeringly gracious gift. I could spend the rest of my life living in a home where a piece of Tyler will always live on; what better reason could there be?
Still, the weight of reality is growing inside me, and I’m realizing there are still things in my life that need answers. Especially when it comes to Nick. First, however, I need to go back home.
“Can you take my to my parent’s house?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Sure. I’ll drop you off and when you’re ready I’ll come get you and we’ll go have dinner.”
“No,” I say. He glances at me curiously. “Sorry. What I meant is, will you go with me? After what happened… I’d just like you to be there.”
“Of course, baby. Whatever you need.”
I look up and over at him, and I let his words really sink in. Whatever I need. What exactly do I need from Nick? And how much of it?
After seeing the dream house my childhood home seems so small, so limiting. I’m standing at the front door with Nick at my side, and trying to decide if I should just use my key or ring the doorbell.
I opt for the bell.
My mother does a double take when she sees us standing at her doorstep, and when she recovers she invites us in, suppressing what I think is a bit of a smile. We gather with her and dad in the living room, Nick sitting by my side, parents opposite us. It reminds me of the first time I ever brought Nick home to meet them, and how suspicious they were of our relationship in their desire to keep me safe and young and free of drama.
How times have changed.
“First,” I start, “I want to say that I’m sorry for leaving like I did the other day. That couldn’t have been easy for you - I know it wasn’t for me - and I also want to thank you for giving me some space afterwards so I could think, clear my head.”
“We were worried about you, Lala,” my father says. “But when Nick told us he found you we put it out of our minds.”
“To be honest, Dad, I felt really betrayed by you both. I know you weren’t responsible for him showing up here to begin with, but after that episode it seemed like you were forcing my hand in something I was pretty clear that I didn’t want.” Nick shifts in his seat next to me and I wonder if I’m making him uncomfortable. “The point is,” I emphasize, more for Nick’s benefit than my own, “that it should have been my call. And I felt ambushed.”
“Darling, we know,” my mother says soothingly. “We talked about it afterwards and realized we should have let you two kids figure things out for yourselves.”
It’s a relief to hear. I glance at Nick and he doesn’t seem negatively impacted by anything I’ve said.
“So,” my mother urges. “You two are here. Together. Everything is okay?”
Nick and I exchange looks and there is so much unspoken between us. The lovemaking, the dream house, our love for Tyler, the unknown and uncertain future.
“It’s okay,” I nod, taking Nick’s hand and squeezing it in mine. I don’t want to tell them specifics. Frankly it’s none of their business, and I prefer to keep them in the dark about the depths of our relationship. They know so little about what has gone with us in private over the past ten years, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“And I have something I’d like to tell you,” I continue, looking up at them with Nick’s hand still in mine.
“You two are getting back together?” Dad is looking at our joined hands suspiciously, and I think he almost looks skeptical.
This is awkward. It’s the question that has been the elephant in the room since this morning. At least I think it has for me. Honestly I have on idea about Nick. He’s being so supportive and kind and generous, and yet I can’t help but think of how temporary this all could be. He’s in New York, I’m here. He’s just starting to date again and I am not even sure what I want or where I see things going.
“Um,” I start. Shit. I swallow back the scratchy lump in my throat to buy myself time but I can feel their eyes on me and I just
don’t know
. I feel Nick squeeze my hand and when I look up at him he’s giving me an encouraging smile.
“Geoff, Martha,” he addresses my parents, “the focus right now is to get Layla back up on her feet. I feel confident that she wants to move forward with her life, whatever that may look like, and to be a functioning, whole person again. And I’m going to do everything I can to help her.” His hand untangles against mine and he moves his arm instead to rest supportively around my waist, pulling me in close to him. “I promise,” he says more to me than to them, and kisses at my temple.
“Well, if you two get married again
please
, for the love of God, think to invite us?” my mother pleas.
Nick and I exchange looks again and smile conspiratorially at each other, like two kids in trouble for doing something wrong and fun.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I think we’re past secret weddings and drunk elopements. Right Lay?”
“Of course,” I smile at him and my parents. “We’re thirty now. We know better.” His hand moves up to my neck and starts massaging gently. I think the intended effect is meant to be soothing but I can feel it down in my chest and I become very aware of my breasts all of a sudden. When I give him a sideways glance he’s got a smirk on his face and a look in his eye. He knows what he’s doing.
“So when will you be coming home?” Dad asks, breaking me from the spell of Nick’s touch.
“Well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about, Dad.” I try sit up straight and Nick’s hand falls away. “I’m not.”
“That went well,” Nick says as we enter my suite at the Canary Hotel, a box of pizza and a bottle of red wine in his hands. I’m feeling so much relief after telling my parents everything - almost everything - and suddenly I find I’m looking forward to the path ahead of me. I’ve got a key and security code to my dream home, things are back to normal with my parents, and Nick and I are better than we’ve ever been. There’s just the small, ever-present pain in my heart mourning for our son, and that’s never going to go away, but now I’ve got a little piece of him with me to see every day.
The sun is setting outside and the sky is a canvas of gold and violet and aqua. I open the windows and doors to let in the smells and sounds of downtown Santa Barbara, and imagine the first time I will do the same thing in the dream home.
Oh, there is so much to do! Packing up what I have at my parent’s house, the new clothing still strewn around the room, and starting over completely from scratch. How did I get so lucky?
We sit on the thick carpeted ground facing the open terrace doors and eat pizza in contented silence, drinking wine occasionally from the same cups we drank champagne from. I look over at Nick and find him so peaceful and contemplative. I wonder what he’s thinking about? So much has happened in the past few days and I can’t imagine the state I’d be in right now if it weren’t for him.
He catches me staring at him and I blush into my cup of wine.
“Whatchya thinking about, pretty lady?” he smiles at me.
“You,” I reply. “Everything you’ve done for me.”
He shakes his head and takes another bite of pizza. “You would have done the same for me,” he says, suddenly a shade more somber.
I wonder if he really believes that? He said himself I changed towards him during our second marriage, that he watched my love for him dim into darkness. And yet he still has faith that I would do anything for him. I don’t even know myself. I’d like to think I would, that our past means more to me than anything and that if he truly needed me I would be there for him. That’s certainly the kind of person I would like to be. That’s the person he’s shown me he is.
When we finish eating he pushes everything to the side and brings me into his lap, my back leaning against him as we stare out into the setting sky together. His arms feel safe and strong around me, and he’s resting his chin on my shoulder so our faces are side by side, cheek to cheek.
“You helped give me my life back, Nick,” I whisper, staring out ahead into the darkening night.
“Just returning the favor,” he whispers back. I wonder if he means the moments years earlier when he considered taking his own life? He said it was me who kept him from going through with it, and I can’t stand to imagine the torment his death would have brought me.
“Will you be going back to New York?” I ask, deciding to change the topic.
“Yes. At least for a while. My life is there and I don’t know how permanent it is. Anything could happen.”
Suddenly all I can think about is that elephant in the room, growing larger and larger until it will be impossible to ignore it.
“And what about us?” I ask.
“What about us?” His arms tighten around my waist, drawing me closer to his chest.
“It seems we always find our way back to each other, no matter what the damage of our past is.” And there has certainly been a lot of damage. But also a lot of love.
“Then that’s your answer. We’ll find our way back to each other.”
“So ‘friends with benefits’ until then?” I joke, leaning in to playfully brush my face against his.
“If that’s what you want.” He kisses softly at my ear, warm breath against my skin.
“Only if you want it, too,” I whisper, closing my eyes at the sensation of him.
“Let’s not call it anything and just see what happens. You might feel differently once the intensity of the past few days wears off, or when I’m not here to be with you.”
Unexpectedly my heart drops at the thought of him going back to New York, so far away. But he’s right. Every day since I looked up and saw him standing in front of my car at LAX has been intense, like a super concentrated version of the past ten years together. What if we’re just going through the motions? Falling back on old habits because they’re so familiar and feel so good? Who’s to say that once we’re no longer in the same room together we won’t go back to not talking?
That just wouldn’t feel right. Maybe he’s right and we just need to see how things go? If we do always find our way back to each other then there is no rush to put a label on things, to call it by a certain name so it forms a specific idea.
I don’t want to go back to not talking to him. That’s been our pattern for so long - together, not together, together, not together - and I don’t think either one of us wants to fall back into it. The dream house was a game changer. I can’t stay away from someone who cares so unconditionally for me, who would do anything to make me a whole person again. That kind of love only comes around once in a lifetime.
“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before-” I lean back and crane my neck until we’re face to face, close enough to touch. “You’re my best friend.” His face is so beautiful close up, and I can see Tyler in his eyes again. It’s clear to me now that I would do for him what he did for me, and not because I owed him, but because I’d want to, unconditionally. “I just thought you should know that.”
“I can’t tell you what it does to me to hear you say that, Layla Huds-, Garrett,” he corrects himself. “That and the way you’ve been looking at me since last night.”
“What way is that?”
He brushes his nose against mine and places a sweet kiss on my lips. “Like that light inside you has flickered back on.”
Crystal Cierlak (1983-present) was born and raised along the central coast of California. She graduated with a Bachelor's of Art in Art in May of 2009, and completed her Master’s of Art in Media Psychology in September of 2013. When not writing she freelances as a social media manager and designer, and takes pride in designing her own book covers.
In may of 2014 she will marry the love of her life.
Fore more information, please visit
http://www.facebook.com/CrystalCierlak
Twitter @CrystalCierlak
Walk Away
,
The Romance of Nick and Layla
(Part 1)
Sorry
,
The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 2)
White Flag
,
The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 3)
Zoe Thanatos
Available on Amazon.com in ebook and paperback
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009EE2QHS
What if you decided to end your life, only to find out it wasn't yours to begin with?
What if there is a life you were meant to live... in another world?
On her 25th birthday Zoe Thanatos is ready to end her short and unhappy life by jumping off a cliff into the Pacific. But her plans irrevocably change when a stranger intervenes, preventing her death while seemingly cheating his own. She demands answers but unearths a whole new world of questions when her savior confesses his true identity - that he isn't from her world - and leads her down a path of discovery that reveals truths about the life she was meant to live and those responsible for taking it from her.