Time still confuses me.
Some things go on and on. For instance, an hour at the dentist drags on forever. The two weeks leading up to Christmas lasts for months, and the hour my mom used to make us wait to open presents while she made breakfast stretched into eternity. Conversely, when we went to Disneyland, a day passed in a snap. In timed tests, the sixty minutes fly by.
Some days when I wake up, I feel like my mom should be smashing her snooze button, or sitting in the kitchen, hunched over a cup of coffee. The grief slaps me right in the face, fresh and new. Those days are hard. Other days, it feels like I’ve been so long without her that I've forgotten what she looked like. Those days are the hardest.
No matter how much time passes, I feel a familiar pulling at my heart every time I think about her, which I do often.
I still wonder sometimes whether she'd have survived if I'd been born a few weeks earlier. After all, I would have graduated a year before and never even met Mason. If Hope had been born a few weeks later, she might have been on the junior varsity team, and she might not have caught his eye. If Mason had shown up just one day later, he wouldn't have come with me to that tournament when Drew was late, and we might never have dated. He'd already have been securely smitten by Hope at that point, and I'd never have tried to mess with that. Sometimes I wonder whether my mom would still be alive if Principal Skinner hadn't put the parking lot attendant on alert for anyone going outside during school hours, Dr. Brasher’s reassurances she never saw the voicemails notwithstanding. The only answer I can find is that, no matter how many seconds we scraped together, I'll never know what would have happened.
My mom might still be alive, or she might not. Either way, I can't let other people's agency impact the choices I make today. And I want to make every second I have count.
Which means, when my alarm goes off at six am, I don't hit the snooze button. I groan and roll out of bed. My feet land on Moby's tail, and he yelps with displeasure. That wakes up Hope, of course, and she rubs her eyes.
"If you hadn't insisted we get a dog, we could be in the dorms," I grumble.
"You still could have. I'm at Gateway Community College, remember? We're living here so you can room with me, not because of poor little Moby." She leans down and rubs him, then blinks several times. "What time is it?"
"Your first class isn't for hours yet," I say. "Go back to sleep."
"Good luck at your meet," Hope mumbles.
I don't remind her it's a tournament. Some things are just hardwired. Mason still calls tournaments meets sometimes, too. I take a shower and pick my favorite suit, a charcoal grey with pink pinstripes. I just got it back from the dry cleaners.
My phone buzzes and I check it. It's a text message from Mason. JUST LEAVING. SEE YOU IN FIVE.
Crap, that barely leaves me time to walk Moby before I need to leave. I rush into the kitchen and reach for a granola bar.
“In a rush?” Drew asks.
I sigh. “I guess I was in the shower too long.”
She holds out her hand. “I’ll take the mutt for a walk for you.”
I grin at her. “Thanks.” She pretends to hate him, just like she still pretends to hate Mason, but she actually loves them both.
Drew and I walk out the door at the same time, me in a suit, and her in jogging pants and a long sleeved shirt. New Haven is stupidly cold.
Mason is just pulling up in his blue Audi. Graduation present from his parents. He whistles at me, and I grin.
"No one looks as great in a pinstripe suit as you do," he says.
Drew rolls her eyes at us and walks away.
I climb into the car and look at Mason’s suit. "Except maybe you." I sigh. "I thought we discussed this. We look silly when we match. Like tweedle dee and tweedle DUMB."
"If you telling me not to do it is ‘discussing it,’ then yes, we did, but, I like it," Mason says. "I'm not changing. Besides, my suit is black and white, while yours is charcoal and pink. That's not too matchy."
Mason is every bit as infuriating now that we've been together for months and months. And he's still swimming, so I have to sit on my hands and wait for his free weekends. I don’t mind too badly. Actually, Mr. Zane is the one who complains about it the most.
Even though Yale isn't number one in the country, their program is number twenty-five, and I guess that's good enough. We work our debate schedule around his swimming one, and as far as I can tell, he’s on track for the Olympics. Even his mom is satisfied with his progress. I'm not sure how he finds time to study, but somehow he's hanging in there. He likes to say, “Bottom of the class at Yale still graduates.”
When I think about time these days, it's usually to count good things. It just so happens that on the very day I learned my mom had died, I also found out that Mason liked me, and we kissed for the first time. I know that my mom would be delighted to see how happy I am now. I try to focus on the things that bring me light and joy, and not the things that cause me pain.
For instance, it's been eight hours since Mason last said he loves me. Coincidentally, it's also been eight hours since I last kissed him. It's been two days since our last date, and a week since we went on a triple date with Hope and her boyfriend Chad, and Drew and her girlfriend Anica. That was less awkward than you might have guessed. It's been almost two months since Hope turned eighteen and I was officially not her guardian anymore.
"Are you worried that I forgot?” Mason asks.
“Forgot what?” I smile.
“Well, I didn’t. I know it's your birthday today. I didn't want you to think I forgot it, just because we have a big meet against Harvard today."
“Tournament.” I grin. "It's so sweet you remembered."
"Hope texted me every single day for the last week like I’m mentally deficient." He rolls his eyes. "I've given this a lot of thought, and I wanted to give you something special. Something that will tell everyone we know how much I care about you."
It will tell everyone how much he cares? Um… I scrunch up my nose. Oh, no. Please tell me my sweet boyfriend is not about to propose. Please, oh please, no. Maybe if I turn it into a joke, he’ll realize it’s a bad idea. His parents got married in college, but we are nothing like his parents. And we’re freshman. And that’s insane. Think of a joke, Lacy!
I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "I am SO not getting a couples tattoo."
He rolls his eyes. "Too white trash, I know. I'm lucky you put up with my monstrosity as it is."
"I like your Moby Dick tattoo." I reach a hand over and trace it across his back.
He kisses my hand, and then places a small box into it. My heart stalls. I swear if he's proposing to me our freshman year in college, in a car no less, I'm going to turn him down flat. He will just have to be man enough to deal with that.
I feel sort of ill, but I open the box anyway with a forced smile on my face. I look at the ring contained inside and my feeling intensifies. I don't even merit a diamond? Then I glance at Mason, at the hopeful smile on his eager face and I can't stand it.
"Are you proposing?"
He gapes at me. "Excuse me?"
"What is this?" I shake the box at him.
"No, I'm not proposing.” His eyes widen. “Did you want me to?" He looks as horrified as I feel. “I designed a ring for you that symbolizes our relationship.”
I start to laugh, and I can't stop. There are tears streaming down my face. "This is so how we do everything. No, I didn't want you to propose, but Mason, you told me you loved me, and you had something that would tell the world how we felt, and then you gave me a ring. And not even a big old diamond."
Finally he sees it. He starts to laugh, too. "Wow, you thought I was proposing, and that I sucked at it. No," he chokes out. "I was thinking how you're Lacy, and I'm Mason. I wanted something to reflect both of us. I talked to this jeweler, and we came up with three interlocking rings, one for each of us, and one for how we're more together than apart, you know like synergy. They fit together like a mason would put stones together, but when they’re together, they look like lace, see?"
He turns the rings, which are now soldered together, but I can see the separate rings: one white, one rose, and one yellow gold. Now that I'm not panicked about a proposal, I can see how delicate and beautiful they are.
I lean over, and this time, I'm the one pressed against the gear shifter. Mason shifts to move around the steering wheel and his beautiful face gets nearer to mine, one inch at a time. Even now, after eight months, it still feels like the world shifts around me when his lips meet mine. I don't know how long he kisses me, but I know it always feels like Disneyland, not the dentist. I'm never ready for it to end.
The good news is that even when it does end, I know it's not The End.
I hope you enjoyed Already Gone… and if you did, I hope you’ll check out some of my other books. I write “sweet” romance (adult) and YA. My two YA series are a little different. One is post apocalyptic, and one is contemporary fantasy—or fantasy that’s set on Earth.
In case you want to check out either, I’ve included the first chapter of my YA contemporary fantasy novel, Displaced, and the first chapter of my adult “sweet” romance, Finding Faith.
All of my books (except this one, which I use to incentivize people to join my newsletter) are in Kindle Unlimited. (You can’t enroll a book in Kindle Unlimited if you’re giving it away for free anywhere at all.) If you’re not already part of my newsletter and want to join, go to www.BridgetEBakerWrites.com to sign up!