Never has a beach made me so nervous before.
I grew up here in San Diego, so it’s not like I’m afraid of the water or any beach critters that might come out at night. (Although maybe I should be, given my great-aunt Tildy’s propensity for telling stories about sand crabs crawling into her clothes whenever she skinny-dips—and yes, I said “dips,” not “dipped.” As in, present tense.)
But despite the fire Kevin’s got going and the fact he’s placed a spread of sandwiches, chips, pasta salad, and fruit between us on a worn woven blanket, I’m not sure what I’m doing here.
And that’s bringing a perpetual twitch to my eye.
“Thanks again for coming.” He hands me a plastic plate and nudges a spoon into my hand.
“I’m always up for a free meal.” Trying to smile, I let my gaze wander the rather deserted beach. It’s one that’s a bit north of town—one Kevin and I used to frequent together. Maybe that’s what has my eye twitching. This feels so … familiar.
And yet, it’s different.
I’m different. I’m no longer the naive twenty-two-year-old fresh out of college, ready to take on the world and everything in it. Ready to live my dreams and embrace all the color and brilliance life has to offer. Now, I’m still a lover of color, but I’m more selective. I’ve realized what really matters.
Of course, love was always on that list. But this time with Kevin has reawakened something in me, something I didn’t realize I’d buried. It’s poking its head out of the coffin on my insides (there’s a picture for you!) and asking if it’s safe to come out now. And I honestly don’t know what to tell it.
Because it’s like I have Kevin back. He’s sweet and respectful and not at all like the stressed-out shell of a man he became in those final weeks we were together. Yeah, he’s still kind of particular—he was here early and the food is all in matching containers and lined up perfectly straight—but I happen to find this quirk of his adorable. Besides, it’s a good trait for a doctor to have. No one wants a sloppy surgeon.
Kevin and I are quiet while we dish up our food. The crunch of chips between my teeth fills in the space when the water recedes. Being near the ocean has always calmed me, and I breathe in the dirt and brine. A chill blows up from the shore and fans the flames of the fire. I snuggle down into my pink sweatshirt and finally force myself to look at the man I’ve mostly avoided talking to since we arrived.
He’s sitting with his knees up, hands propped and grasped together, and instead of eating, he’s watching me. When he finally has my attention, he straightens a bit. “So, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours researching how to become a costume designer on Broadway.”
Of all the things I expected him to say, that was definitely not on my radar. A chip falls out of my mouth. “What?”
He nods. “It seems there are multiple paths you could take—everything from applying to the master’s program at NYU to becoming a wardrobe assistant on Broadway and working your way up.”
“I already know that.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.” In the waning light, I notice the red rimming his eyes. Did he not sleep well last night? Or at all? I know how he gets when he’s invested in something—he goes at it really hard, almost to the extreme. Once, he told me that he used to pull multiple all-nighters in a row before an exam.
But why would this subject warrant such attention from him?
Kevin pulls a folder from inside the picnic basket. “All the info I found is in here, including deadlines for applying to NYU and even some job openings.” Clearing his throat, he sets the folder between us and looks at the ocean. “You could even move out there now if you found a job. Start getting to know people. That kind of thing.”
His words whirl around me, caressing my cheeks and slapping them at the same time.
I have no idea how to respond. So I fall to my default—teasing. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
Kevin swings his head so sharply toward me that I wince at the whiplash I imagine he feels. His eyes swim with intensity in the firelight. “That’s the last thing in the world I want. But I was completely selfish two years ago. I know I can’t make up for what I did, how I treated you, but …” Frowning, he huffs out a harsh breath. “But I have to try. Even if the thought of you leaving kills me.”
But see, that doesn’t make sense. I believe him—it would be hard not to, with the sincerity in his gaze and the fact he just grand gestured the crap out of this moment—but it doesn’t help me understand how he could go from this to deciding he didn’t need me in his life not very many weeks later.
I take the folder in my hands and brush my thumbs along the smooth surface. The folder is neon green and is labeled “Lola’s Future.” If I were a betting woman, I’d wager everything I have that Kevin did not possess this folder beforehand—that he went out and bought it just for this occasion because he knows that the color is more me than anything he had on hand.
And that makes me want to fling the whole thing in the water, crawl across this blanket, and show him exactly how much I’ve missed us knowing each other.
“So … what do you think? Are you ready to start reviewing the information now, or would you like to do that on your own?” The end of the sentence trips up his voice just a tad, as if he really despises the second option.
“Kev,” I start, but sudden emotion clogs my throat. After taking a drink of water from my HydroFlask, I try again. “This was really sweet, but I can’t move to New York.”
“Why not?” Kevin’s hardly touched his food, and yet he begins popping lids back onto the containers. The man hates to be idle.
“My sister needs me. She … she had a miscarriage not long after we broke up, and it was super difficult.” I spear a bite of pear with my fork and place it in my mouth, allowing the sweet juicy flesh to sit on my tongue several seconds longer than necessary. “I was so glad I was here to help her through that, and it made me realize that near family is where I belong.”
Kevin is quiet as he clears the food, stacking them neatly inside the picnic basket and then scooting that aside. “I only met Theresa a few times, but she struck me as someone who would support you no matter what you wanted to do.”
“Of course she would. She’s been sending me job opportunities for the last year—but all of them would take me away from San Diego.”
“And that would be hard. But these are your dreams we’re talking about. Right?”
I understand why he’s asking for clarification. It’s possible that when he found that application to NYU in my apartment, it was the first time I’d ever mentioned my childhood dream of designing costumes on Broadway. I’d just been so caught up in him, in our relationship, that I let that be enough. I let his dreams be enough. And I think I could have been happy staying here, being his wife.
But maybe I always would have wrestled with the unfulfilled dreams. Or at least the fact that I had never fully revealed them to the man I loved. Looking back, I was immature in so many ways. And clearly our relationship was too, since I’d never even shared the deepest parts of my story with him.
I nod. “Right. But …” Should I tell him now? What good would it do?
Seeming to sense my hesitation, he stands and offers me his hands. “Let’s take a walk, huh?”
“Okay.” I let him help me to my feet and then let go of his hands, tucking mine against my chest while we walk to the shore. I kick off my flip-flops. The squish of cold sand between my toes is so satisfying. A breeze blows my hair backward and I pull my sweatshirt hood up, tucking my hair inside.
We walk a little way, the moon lighting the path before us. There’s a line separating the wet ground from the dry sand, and I walk where the water’s been while Kevin walks on the loose grains that have yet to be touched. We are together, yet separate.
He stops and points out a few constellations, drawing my eyes upward to a sky I never get to see when I’m in the city limits. It fascinates me—this idea that the stars are always there shining brightly, but we can only observe them if we are in the right place to do so.
Life’s like that too, isn’t it?
Kevin seems to understand the struggle in my silence, because he quiets too. When I finally look up at him, he’s closer than I thought he’d be. If both of us just leaned forward …
He’s staring intently into my eyes and I can’t help but want to tell him all the things I never did. Not because I expect this to go anywhere. We’re on borrowed time, till he gets his memory back and remembers he’s better off without me.
But for now, in this moment, he’s here.
And I want to be present with him too.
I reach for his hand again. It’s slightly callused like my own, and I realize that both of us use our hands to make our dreams come true. Maybe there is more that connects us than I thought. “I promised myself a long time ago that I would never abandon someone I love for the sake of my own dreams.”
His squeeze encourages me to go on.
“You know my parents are teachers overseas.”
He nods.
I proceed to tell him how they went away when I was so young, how they left me with my sister despite my requests to join them. “They told me that I was in good hands, that the native people needed them more than I did. Do you know what that does to a preteen? It’s essentially the equivalent of telling her she doesn’t matter as much. That what they wanted—the adventure they’d been dreaming about for years—was more important than me.”
“Ah, Lo.” He lifts a hand and strokes my cheek slowly with his thumb.
The night breeze has nothing on him, because I shiver at his touch. “I thought I’d driven them away with some of my behavior. I was always getting in trouble at school for talking too much and wearing flamboyant clothes that weren’t up to the dress code.” I make a face. “Also, once I got into a fistfight because some guys were picking on my friend, Drew, who was in a wheelchair. Those dudes didn’t know what hit them.” I waggle my eyebrows and laugh at the memory.
He chuckles. “That’s my girl.” Then it’s like he realizes what he says, because he wrinkles his nose. “Sorry. In my brain, we’re still …”
“I know.”
Kevin pushes back a piece of my hair and my hood falls away. His fingers trace the shell of my ear and linger on my lobe. “I can see why you’d want to be different than your parents, to cherish love and relationships. But I don’t think you have to give up your dreams in order to have that. Can’t you have both?”
“I don’t see how. My sister needs me here to physically help her.”
“I thought her mother-in-law lived here now.”
It’s true. Jake’s mom moved from Phoenix this last summer when she got tired of the heat and traveling back and forth to see Sami (and Jake and Theresa, of course). But still. “My sister doesn’t have any other family nearby. And anyway, life’s greatest treasures aren’t in the achievement of something or in the completion of some journey. They’re in the journey itself—and that is much better when you experience it with people you love.”
“Wow.” Kevin’s Adam’s apple bobs, and his thumb draws a line from my lobe down my jaw and to the corner of my mouth. “Not only are you radiantly beautiful and brilliant, but you’re generous and kind too. The whole package.”
A blush comes over my face, which heats beneath his gaze and his hand as it cups my cheek. Then Kevin moves closer, and I feel the breath of his whisper on my cheek, in my ear before his lips linger over mine.
Waiting for permission.
For reciprocation.
My insides catch flame again, and goodness knows that I want to lean into it. But I know that in the timeline he’s living in, it will only be a month before he will feel very differently about me—and I just can’t let myself fall like that again. “Kev.”
He pulls back, brow furrowed. “Sorry. I didn’t …” And then he’s no longer touching me, but instead his hand scrubs his chin. “Just let me say this, Lo. I love that you want to take care of everyone else. I really do. And once upon a time, I guess I was selfish enough to be okay with you giving up everything you wanted for me. But it’s not okay. You need to follow your dreams. The people who love you will always want that for you.”
“I know, but …” My lips tremble. “I don’t want to be like my parents. Like …”
“Like me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t answer.
“You were always much better than all of us, Buttercup. Don’t let what I did dim your light. I would never forgive myself.”
I feel his loss the moment he moves away from me. And when I finally open my eyes, he’s back at the site of our picnic, putting out the fire in the sand.
Our time tonight has ended. Maybe our time together forever.
But there’s an energy buzzing beneath the surface of my skin—and it’s got me hoping like nothing has in a long time. I can’t even put my finger on what it is, but I know it has everything to do with the man who just spoke truth to my soul. Who encouraged me to follow my dreams.
To leave—even if it killed him.