Lost in Us (28 page)

I
wake up covered with something soft and warm up to the tip of my nose. A blanket. I sit up, pushing it away. Goose bumps appear all over my arms and legs as the night breeze chills me. It's still dark. I press my palms on my temples, my eyes closed. My head feels lighter than before, and the sensation of nausea at the back of my throat is gone. It's only after I open my eyes that I realize I'm alone. The portion of the mattress where James lay is completely cold—a sign that he left some time ago. My insides start quivering. Maybe he went to his room. The lounge chair isn't much of a bed, really. The stiffness in my neck is proof of that.
Or maybe he left for good
, a small voice whispers in my head. I shake my head, attempting to chase the thought away, but only manage to stir to life some of that nausea I thought was gone. I take in a mouthful of air, pondering for a few moments what woke me up, when I hear the call.

"Serena." It's James's voice.

I spring to my feet, wobbling a little on my sandals, and looking to my left and right.

"Where are you?" I call, grinning.

"I'll wait for you to figure it out," James says, and I can tell by the way he sounds that he, too, is grinning. "It's more fun."

The sound doesn't come from the bedroom, but inexplicably, from the edge of the terrace, so I walk toward there and bend over the railing. Sure enough, James stands on the ground, leaning with one shoulder against the wall and beaming up at me.

"You sleep like a rock. I've been calling out for at least ten minutes," he says.

"What on earth are you doing down there?"

"Pondering whether I should bring a ladder or…"

I gasp. "You want me to jump down there?"

He grins, unhitching himself from the wall, hands in pockets. "Correct."

"You've got to be kidding, right?"

"Come on. It's not that high."

Truth be told, it isn't that high. But I've never been much of a climber, or jumper for that matter.

"Whatever happened to just walking down some stairs like a normal person? There must be other ways to get there. "

"I picked the least boring one." James winks, holding his arms up. "I thought you'd find it romantic."

"It kind of is," I admit with a giggle. Unless I break a leg, or my neck. I bite the inside of my cheek, eyeing the wooden railing for a few seconds, then swing a leg over the railing, careful not to damage my pink dress in the process. The edge of the terrace on the other side of the railing is just wide enough for me to stand on my toes. I bend my knees, holding onto the railing as best as I can. The ground really isn't that far away. I could almost touch James's raised arms if I extended one of my own. But the sinking feeling in my stomach refuses to let go.

"You'll have to actually let go of the railing to be able to jump, Serena," James jokes.

"You don't say."

I slowly release my right hand from the railing, holding tight with the left one.

"That's it," James says, touching the tip of my fingers. "Jump, baby. I'll catch you."

Gritting my teeth, I let go of the railing completely, and lean forward.

"Aargh," I yelp, as I crash into James's arms, almost knocking him over. My feet land with a thump on the ground. The heels of my sandals have sunk almost an inch into the soft earth. "My shoes are so not right for this," I say.

James laughs softly in my ear, his arms wrapped around me. My heartbeat picks up. "That's a cheap way of tricking me into carrying you."

"I swear I wasn't—" the rest of my words come out in a howl as he lifts me in his arms again, like earlier when he took me to my room.

"Better?"

"I can get used to this, you know."

"Good," he says, looking me straight in the eyes. "That's what I want. No actually, I want more. I don't want you to only get used to me. I want you to be addicted to me, like I am to you."

His lips are so close to me now. So, so close. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lean in and kiss him. It's also the hardest. Because I am addicted to him already, in ways he can't possibly imagine. But it's best if he doesn't know that yet. So I lean back, pretending to scrutinize our surroundings. "Where are you taking me?"

"You don't think I'd tell you, do you?" he says, though his voice lacks the spark it usually has when he's hiding his plan from me. It's strained, and I'm at fault. He climbs the slope parallel to the waterfall, and, as we make our way through the dense trees, I wonder where his game will take us this time. The options aren't as vast here. Just as I consider the possibility that we're going to his car, the trees become scarcer and I see a clearing not far in front of us. There is light in the clearing, which is odd, given that it's in the heart of the forest. When we get closer, I narrow my eyes, staring at the lighting device—a huge
thing
on the ground, like a giant turtle whose grotesquely deformed shell is made up of what appear to be fluorescent ostrich eggs.

But as we step inside the clearing, I get to see what it really is. It's not a lighting device at all. It's a stack of white balloons tied to a stone on the ground. They are somehow lit up on the inside. Next to them is a picnic blanket.

Balloons. Eight of them. One for each one of Kate's anniversaries since she died.

My throat is dry as James kneels and puts me on the blanket, next to the balloons. My tear ducts, on the other hand, aren't. James sits by me, on the blanket.

"How come they're glowing?" I ask, fighting very hard to keep my voice from shaking.

"They've got LEDs in them." He interlaces his fingers with mine. "I thought it'd be good for you to do this again."

I tilt my head to the side, wiping a tear away with my other hand. "When did you do… all this?"

"After you fell asleep. I was afraid you'd wake up before I returned, but the champagne knocked you out all right," he chuckles, squeezing my fingers gently.

"What time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

So it's her birthday already.

I reach out to the balloons, barely touching them. I don't know why James thinks it would be good for me to release them up into the sky. Seeing them already brings the familiar suffocating lump in my chest that I know will grow and grow until I end up in a breakdown, as usual. But I start untying one of the balloons, with trembling hands, if only to get rid of them, so I don't have to keep looking at them.

The moment I untie it, the balloon soars up. I untie two more before James says, "Don't let them go all at once. Take your time." He's propped on his elbows on the blanket, staring up at the sky. He motions to me to lie next to him. I hesitate, looking from him to the remaining balloons in the stack, then lie back on my elbows too.

I look up at the black sky, and I grit my teeth at the sight of the three glowing bulbs. From here, it looks like fire burns inside them. Bright and inextinguishable. Yet, as I watch them go higher and higher, something happens to the lump in my chest.

Something I wasn't expecting. 

It eases. Slowly, very slowly, as if someone were pulling it out bit by bit with a clipper. The balloons become so small they could almost pass for stars, if they weren't moving upward. Eventually, they get lost in the clouds and I don't see them anymore. 

I untie another one, and watch it sail up in the sky after the others, farther and farther away, taking my pain with it.

But not my guilt. Nothing will ever be able to take that away.

"It looks a bit like a star." I only realize I said it out loud when James chuckles. My cheeks heat up instantly. He'll think I'm five years old.

"You're right, it does."

"People say to make a wish when you see a falling star. Do you think it will work if I make one now?"

"I think there is no such thing as a bad time to make a wish," he says softly.

The balloon is so high now, I almost can't see it anymore, and an irrational panic grips me. I have to spell my wish out before it disappears in the clouds. I have to. Maybe it can carry my wish to her.

I wish Kate could forgive me. For not doing more for her. For letting her waste away because I was too afraid to get involved in her world. Jess was more spot on than she knew when she said that I always hide in my safe little corner, where nothing risky can harm me. That's exactly what I did with Kate. The worse the people were that she got involved with, the more I pulled away from her. I just abandoned her into their hands so I wouldn't risk my own safety.

I hope she will forgive me for that. I know I won't forgive myself.

And maybe my guilt floats in the air like a damned aura, or maybe he can just read it off me, but James says, "Don't blame yourself."

I turn my head to the right until I can't see him even from the corner of my eye. "I don't want to talk about it." I focus my gaze on a tree in the distance. 

"People sometimes make bad choices, Serena. Kate made quite a few. Trust me, no matter how much you try to deter them, they will still make them. Even when they know just how bad those choices are for them. Mostly they do it because they think those bad choices are the only thing they deserve."

There is a long pause, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds dead. "The worst choices are the ones who hurt others. And I made so many of those that I think two life times of right choices won't be enough to make up for all the wrong I caused."

I turn around, and find him gazing at the sky, his eyes glassy with tears.

Of course, that's why he sensed my guilt. He knows the feeling only too well. It consumes him too.

"James, that's not—"

"Do you want to release the rest of the balloons?" he interrupts, sitting up straight. "You've got four left." He presses his palms on his eyes briefly, then plasters a fake smile on his face.

I sit up straight too. "No, I want you to release them. For Lara."

The smile freezes on his face. "I don't think this is such a good idea."

"Just try it," I say, untying a balloon and shoving it into his hand. "For me."

"You're not playing fair," he whispers, his eyes begging.

"Please."

He tilts his head, staring down at the balloon in his hand. He lets go of it, following it with his gaze. I don't watch the balloon at all. Instead, I watch him. The muscles around his eyes and mouth tighten; his fingers dig deep in the blanket, as if he'd like nothing better than to carve holes in it.

"You release the rest," he says after a while, untying the remaining three balloons and shoving them in my hand, just like I did earlier with him. His features haven't relaxed one bit. I instantly let go of the balloons. 

"I'm sorry," I mumble, shifting closer to him. His knees are bent now, his arms resting on them. "I thought it would help."

I ball my palm, my nails cutting deep into it, as I'm waiting, terrified of what he might say.

After what seems like an eternity, he turns to me.

"Smile for me," he says and relief surges through me, so sudden and so powerful, that the smile comes naturally.

His features melt into a heartfelt smile too, his eyes brimming with warmth.

"I told you that one smile from you can make everything better. This is all I'll ever need."

At this moment, I truly believe we can mend each other. More than that, I almost think we can complete each other. I know he can complete me. Because if this man—who wants to build a fantasy world for me, who already made my reality more beautiful than any fantasy—if he can't complete me, then no one ever will. I raise my fingers to his cheek, caressing his soft skin, losing myself in his hypnotizing blue eyes. He can complete me, that I know. But will I ever be able to complete him? Will I ever be enough for him? He lets out a soft moan when I run my fingers over his lips, but he doesn't inch closer or touch me. He doesn't try to close the distance between us. He's waiting for me to do it. And I'm so close to doing just that. To lean in and forget that not only can he complete me, he can also shatter me like no one else. So close to forgetting that he did so already. What guarantee do I have that he won't do so again? Jess's words sneak inside my mind again.
You'll end up in your safe little corner, where nothing risky can harm you. From where you'll never allow yourself to live
. Will I do that? Will I choose to walk away from him, just so I don't risk him hurting me again?

Goose bumps form on my arms, as if my body is rejecting this heresy of an idea. James senses it too. He must, because something flickers in his eyes—something that I think is fear. A cold shiver chills me, as if someone dropped an ice cube down my spine. What will my walking away, my choosing safety, do to him? I never thought of that. I chose my own safety once, at Kate's expense. It's a different situation now, sure, but choosing my safety again will not only come at my expense, but also James's.

The recognition slaps me like a whip. I can't be that selfish again. He wants to change for me. Why I can't find the courage to do the same for him?

Trembling, I push myself up on my knees, and he does the same. All color has drained from his cheeks. He thinks I'm preparing to leave.

My heart throbs against my ribcage as I put one palm on his chest and then the other, not quite meeting his eyes, gazing at the top button of his shirt instead. His heart drums under my fingers, with a lightning-quick rhythm that matches my own. I bite my lip and close my eyes. Somehow, I think I will find the courage I seek easier, if I let the darkness behind my eyelids guide me, instead of the image of him. I take a deep breath—his intoxicating ocean and musk scent filling me. The skin on my fingers prickles, as I slide my fingers upward, touching the warm skin on his neck. Now that my eyes are closed, all my other senses are awake, ravaging me. I lean into him slowly, very slowly. I wish he'd take mercy on me and take the lead, because kissing him seems to require a different kind of courage than jumping from that plane did. More like the kind of courage it took to watch those balloons soar up in the sky.

But claiming my happiness takes more courage than both of those things ever did.