These Are the Moments (24 page)

Chapter 63

Now

She’d never stop dreaming.

This dream was very simple in that it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Simon was there, his first appearance in quite a while. There were trees. A river. Or maybe the pond? That was followed by a plume of fog and just the feeling of dreaming, rather than the actual dreaming part.

And whatever non-dreaming she was doing was quickly dispersed by Claudia, knocking through the door and storming into her room.

Wendy jolted.

“What—”

After the slam sound, a crying, sniffling sound followed. No, it was beyond that. It was more of a wail, the kind of sound that only animals make. Claudia threw herself onto Wendy’s bed and latched her arms around her sister.

Wendy didn’t say or ask anything. She just held Claudia back. She brushed the hair out of Claudia’s face and said
shh
as she rubbed her back, which heaved and shook with the weight of her crying.

Mom and Dad would hear soon. They’d worry. They’d talk about fixing Claudia and they’d try to help but only make it worse. No. Wendy didn’t want them to deal with that.

“Hey,” Wendy said. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”

Claudia agreed. Wendy was careful with the door as they left, and didn’t turn the headlights on until they were down the block.

Claudia lowered the seat and curled her body into the fetal position, the cries unbridled now. Open and honest. Her whole body thrown into them.

Then she started talking, saying things. Not to Wendy. Just out loud.

“
Why, why, why
,” she repeated, over and over, through choked sobs.

Wendy rounded the block, pulling onto the highway. The sun threatened to rise, but Wendy didn’t care. They would drive for as long as it took.

“My fault.” Claudia hiccuped. “It’s
all
my fault.”

“Claudia,” Wendy whispered, reaching her hand over the console, and taking her sister’s in her own, “this is not your fault.”

Claudia was inconsolable. Her words croaked through her heaving chest. “But . . . it . . . is. He . . .
hates
. . . me.”

“Casey?”

Claudia whimpered.

“Casey does
not
hate you,” Wendy said. “Casey loves you. He’s just confused.”

It was a few more minutes before Claudia settled, but when she did, the car went quiet. You could hear the hum of the engine, the wind knocking against the windows, and the non-spoken thoughts that weighed on them.

“What do I do?” Claudia asked. Her saucer eyes mooned up at Wendy.

The answer was easy: endure.

That was the simplest way Wendy could put it.

You live with heartache like a virus in your system, until one day, you don’t feel it anymore. But Wendy couldn’t say that. She was supposed to be the experienced one, the one with all the words.

“There’s an
other side
to this,” Wendy started to say, unsure of where she was going. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. Right now, it’s so huge. Meteor huge. But it won’t always be that big. Someday, it’ll be a little less huge. A little less consuming.”

Was that true?
Maybe. Maybe not.

“I take that back,” Wendy said. “This sucks. Heartbreak is the kind of thing that you feel with your whole body. Your whole existence. And it bruises you. It’s going to leave scars and bumps and traces of itself. But I guess, you’re the one that controls what that means. You get to pick how you survive: you can grow stronger and make it mean something, or you can let it ruin you.”

Claudia started to take deep breaths. In and out, training her body to lie still again.

“Why is everything so hard?”

Wendy was still figuring that one out herself.

They kept driving, through the abandoned town, past the high school, past the gymnasium. They could go anywhere, but home seemed best. The car was moving, but they were not. Not really.

Wendy switched on the radio. A radio host named Annabelle, who sounded like she smoked five packs a day and just wrapped up a romantic tryst, croaked through the speakers.

And Lucy, don’t be afraid to be in love with your life. Don’t be afraid to be happy. Your life is wrapped up in layers that you’re just beginning to unfold.

Wendy stifled a laugh, catching it in her cheeks. Claudia pried open an eye.

Peel back those layers, Lucy. Embrace your life. Layer by layer, you too, can break through and find the core to your heart’s journey.

Claudia giggled. It started like a wisp of a laugh, then escalated into a full-fledged giggle, precious and perfect.

It sent Wendy into a surge of laughter, letting loose the ones she’d been holding in. Claudia couldn’t stop herself.

After-sex Annabelle droned on beneath them, and the more she talked about layers and hearts, the more the girls let go. Wendy flipped the headlights off as they turned into the driveway, finally feeling like she’d made her way home.

Chapter 64

Then

She was running late. She overslept, forgetting to reset her alarm. Her car wasn’t starting; so she had to take the bus. She got off on the wrong stop, and ran to make it to econ.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in class that she realized she’d forgotten her management paper.

She was screwed.

Wendy texted Simon: “How much do you love me?”

He answered: “More than anything and anyone. What’s up?”

“I left my paper at your apartment. I have to turn it in in thirty minutes, but I’m in class.”

“Well I’m in class, too,” he said.

Shit.

“But it’s not important,” he said. “Headed back now.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

In class, he was all she could think about.

The night before, they’d stayed up late drinking wine and watching reruns of
Seinfeld
.

“I like this,” she told him. “I like when you’re not so busy. When it’s you and me and this.”

He refilled her glass. “Me, too. I’m only busy because I’m trying to build a future. For us.”

“Oh, for us, huh? You think about that?”

He climbed into bed beside her. “Our future? All the time. When you graduate, we’ll travel. Take that cross-country road trip we’ve talked about. We’ll get married, and move away somewhere. Maybe Nashville. And then? We’ll move back here. Start a family. Live happily ever after.”

She reached over to him, and pulled him into her. Wendy kissed him once, twice, ten times over.

“Wow,” she said.

Wendy thought about the future in a fictitious way. She knew it was out there somewhere, waiting for them, but she was in no hurry to get to it.

“Does that scare you?” he asked. Eyebrows lifted. Lips parted. He looked vulnerable; and for once, she felt like she was the one with the power.

“No,” she said. “I mean, it shouldn’t. I mean, it doesn’t.”

He held her hand. His mouth grazed the skin of her fingers. “You don’t have to be ready right now. You don’t even have to be in the realm of ready. You just need to be here.”

The future.

Marriage.

A family.

It was exactly what and exactly who she wanted.

So why did it scare her so much?

“Promise me one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“You won’t give up on us.”

He kissed her eyelids. Left. Right. Then rested his forehead against hers. “I promise. I will never give up on us.”

Simon made it just in time, folder in hand.

“One management paper, coming right up,” he said.

“You are the world’s best boyfriend,” she said, kissing him square on the lips.

“Anything for you.”

She smiled, her hands tangled around his neck. “See you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

As Wendy walked to class, she felt like things were shifting. Maybe, after all this time, Simon was the guy who showed up. Finally.

Chapter 65

Now

Wendy had been up all night painting.

The night before the art show.

Everything was ready, thirty-five snapshots of her life tucked safely away in the studio, thirty-five 8x10 representations of who she’d been, all set for purchase. She’d stopped painting the pond, as she’d promised herself, but now that all of the paintings were done, she felt lost.

She couldn’t stop herself from going back and raking through her history.

She couldn’t let go.

So, she painted all the tiny pieces and parts that she’d missed in the series. The image of Simon in the blur of the crowd at Vivian’s engagement party. The taxi he rode off in. The scene at Reese’s birthday party. Everything and anything she didn’t want to miss, she spelled out in paint.

When she finally dozed off, it was to the single thought that lingered:
would he show?

The night was sprinkled with stars. Like God had knocked over a salt shaker and forgotten to clean up. There were over 200 invited guests to the small studio space, which was decorated with pink and white garland made of tassels. Pink champagne sat expectantly in real, crystal flutes, and the white walls were no longer so blinding.

When Wendy walked in, she felt the breath catch in her throat.

Her heart paused.

All around her, aligned in neat rows, she was surrounded by her life, the horizontal paintings running one right into the other. Wendy felt flushed.

This is really happening,
she thought.
I can’t believe this is really happening
.

She started at the beginning.

The image of the bus led to the image of the folded prayer hands. There was the bird’s-eye view of the Christmas Under the Stars, and the pond and the front porch. From a distance, the wall looked like a collection of blue and green hues, tiny prints against clean, white backdrops. Up close, it was so much more. It was a story.

“Like it?” Raven asked.

“There are no words,” Wendy said, her mouth dry. “Thank you. A million times, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Raven said, sipping from a fancy flute. “You’re a talent. You earned it.”

Mom and Dad arrived shortly after with Claudia. Dad hovered studiously over every frame, while Mom made one quick trip, going around and around as if on a carousel. Claudia started at the end, working her way to the beginning.

“We are so proud,” Dad said, his eyes teary. “It’s unbelievable.”

“Good job,” Claudia said, giving Wendy’s hand a squeeze.

When Dad and Claudia went to grab drinks, Mom stayed behind. “You are a monument,” Mom said. “And I’m not just saying that because, you know, I made you.”

“You sure?” Wendy asked. “Because I mean, I think you get some credit.”

“Well, of course,” Mom said, laughing. “God really knew what he was doing with you.”

If only I knew what I was doing with me
, Wendy thought.

The night was more than Wendy could have hoped. Reese and her mom came. Casey’s family showed. Even some of Wendy’s high school teachers made appearances.

But no Vivian.

Mrs. Claire trickled in around nine, in a sweet lavender dress with a frigid smile. Wendy went to her, saying hello. “Where’s Viv?”

“Oh, Vivian,” Mrs. Claire said, frowning. “She’s not feeling too hot tonight. Food poisoning, we think. She sends her love. I know she’s so sad to have missed this.”

Wendy couldn’t believe it. She knew they’d fought. But for Vivian not to show? To the most important event in Wendy’s life so far? That hurt more than words ever could.

“Hey,” Reese said, balancing an olive on her glass. “No Viv?”

“She’s not coming.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming? She better be on her deathbed. Or getting her leg amputated. Or both.”

Wendy shook her head.

“That bitch,” Reese said. Wendy raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, she’s not a
bitch
bitch. Just, you know. A bitch.”

“Oh, yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

When the night was over, Wendy drove home alone. She let the windows down and drove with the image of pink sticky notes in her brain.

She’d sold almost every last painting. There were negotiations over the pond, the most detailed of the images, and Raven had told her, “We’re going to shop it a little bit. Before we make any decisions.”

And then, Raven tacked small pink sticky notes to the wall, with the word, SOLD.

Wendy didn’t expect to feel sad. But here she was, driving alone, feeling lonelier than she’d been in a long time. She couldn’t hide behind her paint sets anymore. Without them, she was forced to take an honest look at her life. Living at home, single, working and stagnant.

She wasn’t happy.

Life was moving too fast and too slow all at once, and she didn’t know how to change that.

When she pulled the car into the driveway, the front porch lights lit the wooden floorboards like a stage. She needed to feel comforted; she needed to feel home.

She climbed the stairs.

Took a seat on the worn slats of the swing.

Lifted her legs up with her.

She closed her eyes and let herself rock. Back and forth. Back and forth.

She heard the snap before she felt it.

It was a crack, a break, a fissure that rang out like a piercing cry.

When Wendy opened her eyes, her half of the swing balanced on the ground, the severed chain link dangling over her head.

No. No. No.

Wendy didn’t stand. She closed her eyes again, and heard the door swing open.

“Wend?” Claudia said. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

The tears came with the sobbing, the sobbing like mourning. And Claudia’s small arms took Wendy into them.

They sat there in the ruin, close and hushed, with only the sound of the cicadas stirring.