Epilogue
Rory
This is what I’ve learned in the last two weeks. No one should try to live life alone. There’s no honor in living behind a shield of defense. In acting like the tough girl, pretending no one can touch you, that pain isn’t chasing you, that clutching on to memories long past will somehow keep them in the present. Memories are just that—memories. Nothing can take them away from you, yet no amount of wishing and holding tight to artifacts will make them come back to life.
The only thing we have is time. It runs out fast. On us, on our loved ones. We all need to find a way to keep living and moving forward no matter what life hands us.
Starting now, that’s what I’m doing. I’m living. I’m here. I’m worth it. And I’m proud. I should have figured those things out a long time ago.
* * *
My flight landed a little late. Three hours, to be exact. But Colt was there, waiting like he promised he would be. Right before I saw him, I wasn’t sure what to think. Once when I was eleven, I went to summer camp. I made a friend there—a best friend to my little-girl heart—we spent every waking moment of those adventurous seven days together. When the week was up, we promised to write. To text. To keep up with each other until the day we both went away to college. At that point, we would be roommates and experience our newfound freedom together. With all the sincerity I possessed, I meant every word I promised.
We wrote to each other once. Now I don’t even remember her name.
With Colt, I worried I would be just another friend from camp gone by the wayside after a few hours sleep.
But he was there. When he saw me, he smiled.
And then he held up the latest issue of Maxim magazine, the one with my black bikini-clad and oiled body showcased on the cover.
I hated him then and I hate him now.
If I’d been with him at summer camp, I would have drowned him in the lake.
* * *
“Come on now, you don’t hate me.”
I glare up at him. “Yes I do. I think you’re a terrible person.”
“Because I didn’t vote for you as judge?”
“No, because you’re the only one who didn’t vote for me.”
Our lips keep bumping together as we speak, but somehow it isn’t awkward. He smiles into my mouth.
“You know what they say about people dating at the office. It’s never a good idea.”
“That may be true, but then again you’re supposed to be a cameraman. Not an executive producer. What happened to not following in daddy’s footsteps? What happened to making your own way in the world?”
“A big, fat salary. That’s what happened. Plus, the job comes with perks. Did you know it’s a modeling show? And that I get to tell a bunch of women walking around in their underwear what to do? What guy wouldn’t want that job?”
“A guy who better not be looking at those women if he knows what’s good for him, that’s who.”
“I’ll take that to heart. After all, I haven’t even seen you in yours. Unless we’re talking about magazines.”
I pinch him at the waist and smile when he yelps a little. “And you won’t be anytime soon, so get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Touche. How long until you get back to Los Angeles? I miss you already.”
“I’ll be back in three weeks. I just need to pack and have someone clean my apartment.”
He runs his nose along my jawline as his arms slide around my waist. I shiver a little at the smell of pine and fresh dirt, unsure how Colt always manages to smell this way. It’s a scent I’ll miss, so I really need to hurry back.
“Okay, I’ve got to go. They’ve already called my flight three times.”
“Alright, go.”
He’s right there, his mouth is on mine again. Top lip. Bottom lip. Tug here. Tug there. And one little bite to make things interesting. It’s a dance we’ve perfected quite well this week, and my pulse picks up speed. I think about standing there and letting the plane take off without me, but if I don’t go clean up my Seattle life, I won’t be able to start my permanent Los Angeles one.
Who knew a person could be so excited about California?
Not me. Never me.
Colt kisses me with soft lips and harder urgency.
Well, maybe me now.
Okay definitely me now.
I push off his chest and take a step backward. “Meet me back here in three weeks. Don’t forget.”
“I’m picking up a hot chick at the airport. What guy would ever forget that? Also why are we always meeting at the airport?”
I laugh. “I have no idea. But hopefully that will be the last time.”
I walk backwards until I reach the ticket scanner, then turn around and make my way to the plane. I’m in my seat before I realize the smile hasn’t left my face.
* * *
When the plane lands three hours later, I hit send on a series of texts I composed to Colt on the flight. Some mushy, some silly, one threat that if I ever see him holding another magazine with my barely-dressed image on the cover I will roll it into a tube and smack him on the head with it.
Like a whipped puppy.
Or maybe that’s me.
I lean my head against the window and sigh. I think I might be the whipped one.
I open my eyes and quickly suck in a breath.
It’s snowing.
For the first time in six years, it’s actually snowing in Seattle. It hasn’t happened once since…
I lean back in my seat and remember the day I walked with my grandfather through the icy downtown market. He wanted to buy poinsettias for Christmas. They were my grandmother’s favorite, and we hadn’t bought any in a few years. Maybe he knew this would be his last chance. Maybe not. Maybe life is just kind enough to remind you to make a memory while you’re still able to do it.
I open my backpack and pull out the picture we took that day. He’s wearing a thick gray coat buttoned up to his chin. I’m wearing a black stocking cap and a brown wool blanket I found in the trunk of his car because I forgot to grab a coat. My grande cup of Starbucks rests at his waist as I lean into him. A stranger took the picture in a rush because we were both so cold. In the photo, he’s smiling in that crooked way he used to. I’m smiling too, only wider. I remember it like it was yesterday. This is the first photo I will show Colt the next time I see him. It hits me then: I’m excited to show him. The sadness I usually feel has numbed into something like acceptance.
Acceptance.
Life moves forward with or without us. It’s our choice whether to hang back and let it leave or buckle ourselves in and enjoy the ride.
I’m enjoying the ride.
My mind drifts back on the past couple of weeks, and I smile. I’m pretty sure it’s the most genuine smile I’ve had since that day in the market when we bought three poinsettias and struggled to carry them back to the car. It was a good day then.
It’s a good life now.
Turns out I had a pretty merry Christmas after all.
And it’s already shaping up to be a very happy new year.
The End
Thank you to my readers. You mean the world to me. Merry Christmas.