Tracing Hearts (9 page)

His fingers find their way to my chin, lifting it so I’m looking at his face again. The contact makes me whole body feel flushed.

“I want to have fun too, but you have to grieve. It’s not healthy not to cry about your mom’s death. It just happened. You should be locked in your bedroom crying nonstop, but because I’m here, that process has been put on hold. I’m worried that I might be doing more damage to you by being here.”

The tears in my eyes are becoming too much to contain, so I break free from his grasp and look away just in time for them to roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away swiftly.

“I’m fine. I’ll get through this. I don’t want to ruin your week here. After you leave, I can lock myself away. Until then…” I stop, and he tenderly touches my cheek.

“Hey. I won’t be the catalyst to make this harder for you to cope with. I’d rather leave tomorrow than make this harder on you.”

Something about his kind words open up a floodgate, and I can no longer contain my tears. Was it his insistence that I grieve my loss or the idea of him leaving soon that causes my sorrow to finally emerge? I’m not sure, but before I can pull them back, my tears spill out uninvited and very unwelcomed. I’m a blubbering mess of emotions. I feel his arms engulf me in a strong embrace, and he holds me as I purge my feelings of sorrow. I grasp his t-shirt, fisting it in my hands, as I cry uncontrollably into it, soaking it in the process. He says nothing, just lets me sob into his chest. He slides a hand into my hair and kisses the top of my head as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. We stand like this for some time. Then, finally, I stop. I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe away any remnants of moisture on my face. I don’t want him to see the aftermath of my fit, so I keep my head down.

“Sorry about that,” I say as I look at his tear-stained shirt.

He looks down too.

“My first souvenir of Ohio,” he chuckles, trying, and succeeding, to make light of the situation. I laugh and it’s cathartic. “That’s better,” he says softly.

I sniffle and bravely look up at him.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“For what?”

“Making me cry.”

He snorts. “Just don’t let your dad know what I did.”

We both laugh and continue walking.

***

In the car, on the way back, I remember something.

“My mom’s viewing and funeral is tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Will you come?”

“Julia, I don’t know—”

“Please? It would be easier on me if you were there.” He exhales; indecision lays heavily on that sound. “We could have a secret signal. You know, in case I get too sad and decide to wail in the middle of the service.”

He chuckles.

“What kind of secret signal?”

I think for a moment.

“How about if you stick out your tongue out at me and cross your eyes? That’ll remind me of these past two days we’ve spent together and the fact that you’re crazy enough to remember every detail about the letters I wrote to you as a child.”

“Hey, I’m not crazy. You’re the one whose face was leaking all over an almost perfect stranger a while ago.”

I smack his arm in faux indignation.

“Come on. What do you say?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Do I have to wear a suit?” Because I don’t have a suit.”

“Nope. Just wear a nice button down shirt and jeans.”

He sighs. “Only for you, Julia.”

I smile and clap like a giddy seal. Then, I throw my arms around his neck in a warm embrace. His arms automatically wrap around me, too. I pull back slightly, looking into his eyes, then swallow, when I notice his expression mirrors mine. My eyes drop down to his mouth, and I see his lips part fractionally. Our breathing becomes labored. Unintentionally, my mind wonders what it would be like to touch my lips to his. My heartbeat mingles with his, as they pound furiously against each other. Holy hell. His hand leaves my back and rises up to touch my cheek. I close my eyes briefly in response.

Then, suddenly, as if nothing was going on, he shakes his head slightly and pulls back, and I’m left heated and rejected at the same time.

“I should get you home,” he says, and takes my hand, leading me back to his car.

The all too short walk back to his vehicle is made in silence. It gives me nothing but time to analyze every word and action that just happened between us. He’s still holding my hand, which is a good sign, but he’s said nothing. That makes me worry. I like him more than I anticipated and reflexively, I touch my cheek where his hand was just a moment ago. Does he feel the same? Probably not. I close my eyes and sigh. What is he thinking?

Sebastian

I dash into the bathroom as soon as I enter my hotel room and turn the shower on cold. I strip and step in, jumping as the frigid temperature comes in contact with my skin. Forcing my head beneath the stream, I wet my hair. Good God. What the hell was I thinking? She doesn’t need this complication right now. After a few minutes of this, I turn it off and dry myself.

I sit on the edge of the bed and compose a text.

What time tomorrow?

It takes several minutes before I hear back from her.

Viewing at 11. Funeral immediately following.

Okay. See you then.

I throw my phone onto the bedside table and fall back against the mattress. Get a grip Sebastian. This is not the time, nor the place to kiss her, let alone anything else you’ve fantasized about doing for the past six years. She’s vulnerable. Nothing good can come from you confessing any feelings you have for her. I inhale, then exhale forcefully. “I guess I’ll be thinking a lot about naked old ladies tomorrow.”

***

As I arrive at the funeral home, I search the sea of people wearing black to try and find Julia. I manage to look presentable enough in my gray, button down shirt, black tie, and black jeans. I spot her father and sister near the memorial they have set up. I sweep the room with my eyes but don't find a casket. She must’ve been cremated. Then, next to a group of young people, I find Julia. She looks so beautiful. She’s wearing a black dress with a flower print. Her hair is swept up in a messy bun, or maybe it’s messy because of all the mourners hugging her. Our eyes meet, and she sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes. I smile and shake my head.

“Megan, I’d like you to meet Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my best friend, Megan.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

Megan’s expression is one of shock. I laugh inwardly.

“It’s n—nice to meet you too,” she says, practically drooling.

I hear Julia giggle, and I smirk.

“Sebastian’s here for a few more days,” Julia tells her.

“Is he coming to graduation?”

Julia’s face falls.

“Oh, I’m not sure I’m going yet. Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t want to sit through all that.” She smiles, but it’s small and wistful. I put my arm around her shoulders.

“If Julia wants me there, I’ll be there.” I smile and look down at her, then cross my eyes. She recovers her smile.

We’re making small talk, when I notice Mr. Bessette and his youngest daughter coming near. I release Julia to offer him my hand to shake.

“Hello again, Mr. Bessette,” I greet him formally. “I’m sorry, again, for your loss, sir.”

“Thank you, son. Have you met Julia’s sister, Toria?” I shake my head and extend my hand to her.

“I haven’t had the pleasure yet. I’m Sebastian.” She takes my proffered hand and greets me with a shake.

“Are you the guy Julia’s been mooning over for so long?” Her candid words take me by surprise.

“Toria! Shut up, you little twerp!” Julia scolds her sister. Her fury is palpable, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“Hey, I call ‘em like I see ’em,” she says. Then, she leans into me and adds, “You should take me out for ice cream. I can fill you in on all the details.”

“Dad…” Julia warns, as she shoots virtual daggers from her eyes at her sister.

“Toria, that’s not nice. Let’s go.” He excuses himself and his daughter, and they go off to greet other guests.

Throughout the viewing, Julia keeps her composure as she mingles. I keep my distance to give her space to speak with her mother’s friends and relatives. There are a few times, however, that I have to break out the signal, which makes her giggle every time. I like the fact that we have that connection. Later on, and with the absence of Toria, I speak to her father. He thanks me for keeping her mind busy for the last couple of days. I tell him there’s no need to thank me. It was my pleasure. The look he gives me could be taken two ways, and I’m not sure which way to go with it. It’s almost time for the service to begin, so I go in search of Julia.

“Hey, Megan, have you seen Julia?”

“Um,” she says while craning her neck to look around the room. “No, but maybe she’s outside.” I nod a thank you, and head out the door.

There are quite a few people milling around out in front of the building, so I scan the crowd. My eyes finally land on my pen pal. She’s standing on the side of the building and appears to be in an argument with some guy. The hair on my arms stand at attention, so I make a beeline over to them.

“What the fuck, Julia? You couldn’t call me? Your mom up and fucking dies, and you couldn’t call me to tell me about it?” the guy says.

“I’ve been busy, Cameron. Okay?”

“Busy doing what?”

I clear my throat when I get near. Julia looks at me. Her brow is creased, her face stressed.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, ready to save her if the need arises. The guy, who I now know is Cameron, squares his shoulders toward me.
Cameron
. Why does that name sound familiar?

“Y—yes, I’m fine,” she says, but doesn’t introduce us.

“Who the fuck are you?” Cameron says gruffly.

“Who wants to know?” I reply.

“Julia’s fucking boyfriend, that’s who!”

My heart sinks. Her boyfriend? Julia has a boyfriend? Why didn’t she tell me? I suddenly feel sick, and maybe a little like I can’t breathe. I want to punch this guy, Cameron. Then, the name becomes clear. He’s the kid who used to pick on her in school. She wrote to me and told me all about him. Why would she date him? I take an involuntary step back.

“Cameron, stop!” she says, and I’m plucked out of my daze.

“Look, boyfriend or not, this isn’t the time to get into an argument. Julia and her family are grieving a profound loss today. If you’re not going to support them, then you should leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he steps closer to me. His chest is puffed out, and his expression is that of an angry bull. My adrenaline kicks in, and I take the last step between us. With nostrils flaring and fists clenched tight, we stare at each other. I won’t make the first move, but I
will
make the last.

“Boys? What’s going on out here?” her father says as he pushes a hand in between us, purposefully separating us. I step back.

“Nothing, Mr. Bessette. Julia was just introducing me to…” Cameron looks at Julia. “Who is this guy anyway?”

“Sebastian,” I say. Cameron’s face twists, and he begins laughing.

“Sebastian? You mean like your pen pal from sixth grade, Sebastian?” He’s laughing loudly, and other guests are starting to stare. “Well, Sebastian. I’m Cameron, Julia’s boyfriend.” He slings his arm around her, and her expression sours. “I’ll take it from here. If she needs comforting, I’ll be the one to do it,” he says and plants a forceful kiss on her lips. Julia doesn’t seem to reciprocate, so I clench my fist but think better of it. I don’t want to be the instigator.

“All right, Cameron. That’s enough. Why don’t you two go inside? The service is about to start,” her dad says.

They walk off, his arm still around her as she looks back at me with an apologetic expression written on her face. I take two steps back, feeling as though I’ve been hit by a Mack truck, then turn and stalk off in the direction of my car. The ache in my chest grows stronger by the second. I need to go. When I look back at her father, his expression is one of regret. Does he regret letting me speak to Julia in the first place? That would be my guess.

Julia

Dear Julia,

It is with great sadness that I write to you today to inform you that I’m leaving for Germany tonight. Something has come up at home that needs my attention. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you a proper good bye. For that, I’m sorry. Please apologize to Toria too. I promised her I’d take her out to get ice cream. I hope you find closure regarding your mom, and begin to heal from all this tragedy.

For what it’s worth, I had a great time, while I was here in the states. I don’t regret showing up on your doorstep. In fact, I’d do it all again, given the chance. Please don’t be sad about my early departure. Remember the details. I’ll be with you in them.

Your friend forever,

Sebastian

What
? He left? I race to my bedroom, searching for…what? I’m panicked. Grabbing my phone, I press his name in my contacts.

“The number you’ve dialed has been disconnected,” says an automated voice.

Oh, my God.
No!

Maybe I can catch him before he leaves. I grab my purse and dig for my keys, skipping steps, as I descend. My dad asks where the fire is, but I just wave him off. I don’t have time to explain.

Like a madman, I swerve through the evening traffic, dodging vehicles and hoping I won’t get pulled over by the police. When I reach Sebastian’s hotel, I dash out of the car, and run to his door.

“Sebastian!” I say and pound on the steel door. “Sebastian, let me in! You cannot leave me like this!” I continue pounding as a few passersby take notice. “Sebastian, please,” I sob. “Please don’t leave. I need you. Cameron’s not the one I want.” With my palms flat against the door, and my head resting there too, I begin to slide down. I’m a crumpled mess on the floor, crying and grieving over the loss of two people, when his door suddenly opens. I look up. Through blurry, tear stained vision, I see a shadowy figure. “Sebastian?” My voice is barely above a whisper.