Had To Be You (48 page)

Danny paused to yawn before reaching over to drop his hand on Eileen’s knee. “What do you say? I want to catch some of the game.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “It’s starting to get a bit chilly out here anyway.”

Rory watched them get up to disappear into the house, and turned to Matt once they were alone.

“Aren’t you going in to watch?” she asked, mildly surprised he wouldn’t be the first one there for his beloved team.

“Depends.” His response seemed nonchalant from his perch up on the deck railing, but the way he looked at her was anything but casual. “What are you doing?”

“Actually, I think it’s time for me to go.”

“What? You’re not headed into bed now, are you?” He furrowed his brow. “It’s still early. You want to maybe take a walk on the beach first?”

Rory smiled softly, conceding for the moment. “Sure.”

She stood to carry her unfinished drink into the house, finding her sweatshirt draped on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. When she stepped back out onto the deck, Matt was down by his truck, his fleece pullover tucked under his arm.

He smiled, waiting for her.

“Ready?”

They crossed the backyard together to follow the path down through the tall dune grass, neither one saying a word as their feet hit the cool sand and they emerged out into the wide open beach. Momentarily dwarfed by the canvas of night awash in constellations, the tide rushed in to greet them from the horizon of shimmering sea and sparkling sky.

Here and there out on the dark water they could spot flickering lights from distant ships, to the far left, the glow of distant streetlights from downtown, and to the far right, the recognizable beacon of Lighthouse Point. They walked a while in silence, only hearing the muted crash of the surf against the shore and, as always, all those things they didn’t say.

They wandered up towards the highest point on the dunes, leaving the hard, packed sand near the water behind as their feet sank into soft, shifting slopes. Stopping just before reaching the place where the wild tangles of beach plums and sea lavender began, they sat together, facing out towards the water.

Rory raked her fingers back and forth through the fine granules of sand, finding the abandoned shell of a moon snail. She picked it up to absently trace its spiral swirl.

“How is your hand doing?”

Matt extended his arm to clench and unclench his fist. “I don’t know. It really hurts when I do this.” He tilted his head towards her and she could hear the smile in his words. “What do you think I should do about that?”

“I think you should probably get some new jokes,” she said.

With a gentle grin of amusement, he reclined back on the dune to rest on bent elbows. Rory gazed up at the summer starlight. They were both quiet for another long moment.

“So, here we are again,” he said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I seem to be having a very hard time trying to stay away from you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t try so hard,” she whispered.

There was a flicker of something in his expression, his smile fading before he turned his head towards the stars overhead.

“I do want to be happy, Rory. More importantly, I want
you
to be happy. I hope you understand that.”

“I know. And I can understand why you might think you can’t be with me, at least not right now.” Her words trailed off briefly. “But I already told you, after all this time, it’s still you. I went out there, Matt, and I realized all my dreams—all but one, that is. Maybe I always imagined it like this adventure that I’d share with you when I got back home.”

This time the tears filled her eyes, not just her voice. She glanced away to quickly swipe at them. She had offered her heart and all of herself to him, and yet still they weren’t together in the way she hoped. Maybe they never would be.

“I wish I could go back and change everything, but I know I can’t. And I know it was so unfair of me to put you on hold or expect you to just wait around, and to only admit how I really felt when I was afraid it was too late. There’s not much worse in life than realizing you’ve probably made the biggest mistake you’ll ever make, and lost your chance, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He shook his head. “Rory…no apologies, okay?”

Nodding, she ran her hand through her wind-tousled hair and released a soft breath. He was right. It was too late for apologies and regrets. Maybe it was too late for everything. She was so focused on reaching a place for second chances, that maybe she completely missed the moment they passed goodbye.

“Can I ask you something, Matt?”

He glanced over to meet her eyes again in the darkness, waiting.

“Do you think our memories always tell the truth?”

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted.

They trudged back through the cool, sifting dunes in silence until they reemerged into the backyard, pausing in the low beam of light that stretched out from the deck.

Matt dug his keys out of the pocket of his shorts, but only gazed down at them in his hand for a long moment. Finally, with a lingering sigh, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“See you later?”

Rory only folded her arms around her body and nodded in reply.

A moment later, Kevin stepped out the back door. Walking down the deck stairs, he came over to join her side. They both watched the taillights disappear down the darkened beach road.

“How did it go?”

“It didn’t really,” she said, rubbing at the corner of her eye. “I couldn’t tell him I was leaving tomorrow. It would’ve felt too desperate, like I was giving an ultimatum or forcing him to a decision. I’ve done enough damage here.”

He nodded his head in vague understanding, and kicked at beach pebble with the toe of his sneaker.

“And just for the record, Kev?” She glanced at him. “This time is not me running away. I really have to go. I have no time left to take. I’ve used it all up. I have a job to get back to, an apartment, rent, bills—all of it. I guess that’s what being a grown-up is really all about, huh? Doing what you have to do as opposed to what you want to do?”

“I don’t know if I’m qualified to offer an opinion,” he replied. “What is this ‘grown-up’ thing of which you speak?”

Despite the infinite weight of sadness, Rory’s smile lifted slightly.

“I guess we’ll know when we get there, huh?”

Kevin smiled as well, slinging an arm around her shoulder to give a quick hug before they turned back to the house.

THIRTY-SEVEN

The rough bark of the tree scraped her knee as she hoisted her body up onto the platform of wood, still wearing only her gymnastics leotard. She barely noticed it bleed as she moved to the farthest corner, hidden from view by the leafy branches.

It wasn’t actually a full tree house—just the bare beginnings, with some floor planks nailed into a large cradle in the branches, one shabby wall borrowed from the old boatyard with a porthole window. Located in the middle of a thatch of trees that spanned a few properties in the neighborhood, it sat off the path that led to the harbor. Rory had been so proud and excited when her father announced to everyone he was going to build this fort in which all the kids could play, describing it like a pirate ship in the sky complete with a crow’s nest lookout and rope swings.

He’d started with such great fanfare. He’d just never bothered to finish.

She didn’t know how long she had been huddled there alone, smarting, stinging, before she noticed him wander through that open space in the hedges to enter the cluster of leafy trees. He was wearing his baseball jersey, cap pulled low on his forehead, still dusty from the field.

He moved straight towards the tree, though she didn’t know how he could be aware she might be there as dusk descended over the neighborhood. Reaching up to drape his arm on the low-lying branch, he glanced up like she wasn’t even hidden at all.

“How did it go?”

“It was great,” Rory replied bitterly.

“I’m sensing sarcasm.”

She rubbed a hand across her runny nose. “I totally messed up on the bars.”

“Your hand slipped, like, a fraction of an inch. That’s not so bad.”

Hesitating, she frowned down at him. “You were there?”

“I rode my bike by on the way to practice. I was only able to watch for a little while.”

“Did you see my dad there?”

The slight pause in his reply said more than his words. “Uh, well, like I said—I wasn’t there long. And it was pretty crowded.”

“It wasn’t that crowded.” Rory sunk back. “And you’re a bad liar.”

Matt swung himself up, climbing to sit on the opposite edge. It was high enough up to catch a glimpse of ocean through the leaves.

“Even though he said he was going to come home from work early, I didn’t really expect him to be there,” she continued, faking a light, breezy tone to offset the heavy weight in her chest. “Especially since I just found out he’s not coming home at all. Like ever.”

Matt frowned in confusion. “What?”

“He left,” she said more simply. “Apparently to shack up with his secretary or assistant, someone like that. My mom just told me. Pretty cliché, huh? Not to mention gross.”

“Damn…that’s, um,” he struggled to reply, “that’s messed up.”

“Yeah it is,” she agreed. “She’s in there freaking out.”

Matt looked even more concerned, kicking at the gnarled bark with the toe of his baseball cleat. “So, come over to my house. Have dinner with us.”

“I don’t want to see anyone right now.” She wrapped her arms around her bare legs, resting her chin on her uninjured knee as she sniffed. She had a feeling her mother wouldn’t be calling her in for dinner tonight. Not that she had any appetite.

Matt made no move to go. He just sat there, sharing her wounded silence, as the landscape around them started to blur and disappear into blue evening shadows.

“Are they getting a divorce?” he asked after a while.

“Probably. I didn’t really ask.”

“Whatever happens with them—your parents?” he said, shaking his head. “I know your dad didn’t think this one through.”

“And how do you know that?” Rory asked with a pained scowl. How were they supposed to know anything about adults? Nothing they did made any sense to her. “He obviously doesn’t want or love us anymore. He found something better. What other reason would he have for leaving?”

“I know he’d never mean to leave you,” Matt said with his gentle certainty. “I have no idea what’s going on with him and your mom, but I know that much. I know he loves you.”

“But not enough. What does it even matter if someone loves you, if it’s not enough? You can easily be replaced.” She quickly swiped at a tear that slipped down her cheek. “I’m never getting married. It’s so stupid. You make these promises, vows, and it obviously doesn’t mean anything. Your feelings can change, and you can just check out any time you want.”

They were quiet again. After a while, faint laughter from kids on the next street drifted over a row of wild rose bushes, floating up into the trees.

“Look—they’re trying to catch fireflies. See?” Matt nodded his head in that direction and Rory spotted them after a moment, tiny blinking stars floating in the dark. “We used to do that. We’d punch holes in the metal lids of those old jelly jars. Remember?”

The corner of her mouth tugged up reluctantly. “You always make them too big,” she murmured.

He nodded with a grin and eased back to rest partially against the width of the tree trunk, getting comfortable as he lifted his baseball cap to run his hand over his short cropped hair. He might as well have been hanging out at home on his couch, with no intention of leaving any time soon.

So Rory took an odd comfort in him just being there, allowing her to return to the familiar for just a while. But it wasn’t long before the hurt swept in again on the realization that nothing would ever be the same.

“I’m so mad at him right now. He didn’t even bother to tell me, or to be here to say goodbye. I think I—I think I could hate him for this.” Her bottom lip trembled. “But at the same time, I wish things could just go back to the way they were.”

Matt turned his head to watch her carefully, his eyes unreadable in the dark.

“Do you ever feel like that?” she asked. “Like you’re helpless, and everything is changing, and you just want to go back?”

“Change isn’t always a bad thing,” he offered. “You never know until you get there, right?”

Rory blew out a shaky sigh, not really soothed by this.

“And not everything changes,” he tried again after a moment.

“No, the things that suck never change,” she agreed sorely.

“I was gonna say things like the summer—or like you and me.”

“Yeah, and you suck,” she replied.

When he laughed, she couldn’t help but laugh with him, even though it allowed a few more tears to leak out. For that brief and fleeting moment, however, she was almost able to believe it was all going to be okay.

They listened to the emerging sounds of the night, the crickets and katydids and the rustle of leaves in the wind, and the quiet echoes of children’s laughter.

Her eyes fell once again on the tiny twinkling lights.

“You always made the holes too big on purpose—didn’t you? So they could fly away if they wanted.”

“Yeah,” he said in a voice soft and low like the summer evening breeze. “I guess maybe I did.”

***

The pre-dawn was only a steady brightening of the twilight at this hour, the sun not strong enough yet to wash out the pale crescent of the waning moon. The lingering sparkle of one or two stars clung to the blue horizon.