Sailor

 

Hearing the tapping on my bedroom door, I sit up at the side of my bed.

“Can I come in?” Elliott, my sister’s boyfriend, asks.

“Um, sure.”

As if ducking away from someone, he steps in fast and shuts the door behind him. Leaning his head back against it, he exhales a long breath, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He’s staring at me like he has so much to say but doesn’t know where to begin.

Elliott’s never been inside my room at our country home in Southampton. He’s stood at the doorway many times, but never has he crossed the threshold.

It was usually when Rebecca and I were fighting over an outfit I took from her room without permission, or when she was telling me I couldn’t go to a party with them.

Elliott would be behind her at the door, insisting she let me tag along. Fights with my older sister were always over stupid shit like that. God, as much as she drove me nuts, I wish she were still here–alive.

Nervously, I attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in my dark skirt from where I’ve been lying on my bed. I mess with my jet-black hair, too, before I fist my comforter and steal another glimpse of him.

I should say something–no, he should. He’s the one who came into my room. Maybe he’s simply searching for a place to escape from the slew of people downstairs who are here for the reception.

It’s not the wedding bells, pre-divorce kind of gathering. It’s the post-funeral type where the guests speak comforting words, which are useless since there’s nothing they could ever say to ease the unbearable grief pressing on my chest.

My train of thought is broken when Elliott strolls over and sits next to me on my queen-size bed. He sets his suit jacket on the other side of him, and I resist the urge to scoot away.

For some reason, I feel like I should, but I don’t want to. He might be the only person who understands what I’m going through today.

I mean, he is Rebecca’s boyfriend. I guess I should say he was her boyfriend before she died four days ago. Elliott’s eighteen, which makes him three years and a couple of months older than me.

“Why are you hiding in here?” he asks.

“I can’t handle everyone staring at me.”

“Yeah, they’re staring at me, too. Actually, most of them are glaring.” From the corner of my eye, I see him turn his head to look at me, and never have I felt this degree of attention from Elliott. “Why did you do it, Sailor? It’s not too late to take it back. I promise you … I’d understand.”

My body trembles as I find the courage to stare into his deep-set eyes. The blue halos surrounding his grey irises are vivid today, likely from the tears he shed during the funeral.

“I did it for you.”

Furrowing his brow, he slides a hand through the top of his short blond hair and grips it.

“OK, but why?”

“I did it to protect you.” My gaze flits to my blue comforter beneath us, and I pick at a stray thread. “You know, from your dad.”

“I could’ve handled my father.”

“Says the guy with a black eye and busted lip.” I glance up at his handsome face that’s been battered one too many times by his violent father. His nose is crooked, and I know why.

“You didn’t get those injuries during the accident like everyone believes. You got them after Rebecca died, so tell me how you’d be here today, in one piece, if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“I’m not worth it. Take it back, and tell the truth.”

“Never. You have everything to lose, whereas I have nothing now to make the truth worth it.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you, Sailor. Don’t let your sister’s death define that path.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What did Rebecca do the other night to upset you so much?”

Elliott’s body tenses, my words splitting his fresh wound wide open. The seeping pain from him is palpable to the point a shiver travels over me.

He’s holding his breath. One, two, three… Resurrecting between us is a wall of ice, and I regret my question.

Determined to crush through the frigid barrier, I grab his hand and entwine our fingers. He exhales, and I notice I’ve been holding my breath, too.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You have every right to know, but I can’t relive it. All I will say is she shattered my fucking heart.”

Tears prick the corners of my already swollen eyes, so I bow my head. I can’t let him see me cry because I don’t want him to tell anyone the truth about the night Rebecca died, and if the guilt gets to him enough, he may.

While listening to the faint sounds of footsteps and chatter below us, I stare at the way his thumb skims over my hand, back and forth … back and forth.

My stomach feels funny, and I wonder if he’s absentmindedly touching me this way or choosing to.

A few minutes pass before Elliott releases my fingers and messes with his suit jacket beside him. He holds out a small, square box.

“Happy fifteenth birthday, Sailor Girl.”

Smiling for the first time since my sister’s death, I take it from his hand and untie the blue ribbon around it. I open the lid, and inside is a necklace with a silver anchor pendant hanging from it.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful. Why an anchor?”

He shrugs. “It reminded me of your name and the way you love the ocean. Turn around, and I’ll put it on you.” Handing it back to him, I twist my body and face my headboard.

He loops it around my neck, and noticing how my long hair tangles in it, I lift it up to make it easier for him. As he clasps the necklace, his fingers brush along my skin, and the tiny hairs on my arms stand up.

I’m scum. I imagine scouring my arms with those rough pads our housekeeper uses to wash dishes. It’s what I deserve since I’m thinking about my sister’s boyfriend in a way I shouldn’t, especially when Rebecca’s dead.

I’ve had a crush on Elliott for at least two years. I remember realizing it on my thirteenth birthday when he gave me his team t-shirt.

He was the star quarterback, and I’d never managed to catch a shirt at the games when the players would toss them into the crowd.

Although I could’ve bought one, the fact he thought to give it to me meant a lot. After the way he smiled and hugged me, I knew I liked him even if it was wrong.

I remember Rebecca rolling her eyes at his gesture. My sister was a spoiled bitch, and she treated Elliott like shit, but now she’s gone, and I feel like a piece of shit for thinking about her that way.

And I’m not talking about the kind of shit you step in when a dog takes a crap in the yard. I’m talking about the crap in porta potties. Yeah, I’m human shit that other people shit on and flies swarm around. That’s me today.

He clutches my shoulders and pulls on them, signaling for me to turn back to face him. Shifting around, I run my fingers over the silver anchor while smiling at him. He’s likely the only person who’ll remember my birthday today.

“It looks good on you.” Still holding my shoulders, he leans over and kisses my forehead, and my stomach feels as if it’s flipping around like a fish out of water. “Thank you for the sacrifice you made for me. I’ll never forget it.”

He stands from the bed and picks up his suit jacket. I admire his towering height before he turns to face me. “There’s another reason I gave you that necklace, and maybe someday, I’ll get the chance to tell you.”

“What do you mean by someday?”

His gaze averts to my plush white carpet.

“I don’t plan on returning to the city or the Hamptons.”

“Not ever?” I ask anxiously.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

I stand. “So, that’s it? After everything, you’re going to leave and never come back?”

“Please don’t make this harder on me. I can’t take seeing my father another day, and I can’t stomach being around the friends Rebecca and I shared. Not after what happened to her. Today’s proof of that, so I’m leaving for college early.”

How can I argue with him for wanting to leave? I’ve been on the receiving end of those looks today, too: sideways glances of disgust, gazes of pity and the freeze out from Rebecca’s friends.

“Please at least talk to me soon,” I murmur. At the same time, I think we both swallow the knots that have filled our throats. Without a last look or smile, he walks to the door and grabs the knob.

“Elliott, wait.” He doesn’t turn back, and I don’t want him to. The tears are falling … tumbling now, and I’m holding in a sob that’s ready to burst from the seams. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, my Sailor Girl.”