Chapter Twenty-Seven
The night didn’t end up like either one of us thought. I wasn’t planning on any confessionals. His silence said neither was he. Despite his lack of verbalization, he still did all the gentlemanly things of helping me in and out of his truck and opening the door to his house.
As soon as we entered, Charlotte bombarded us, seeking our help. She needed me to go over her science project reports she’d worked on during school and she was desperate for Porter’s help with her posters. It was a good distraction for both of us, I think.
Charlotte dragged us both to the family room, where it looked like she had taken over. Either that or a party supply store had taken up residence. There were bags of several different kinds of candy spread all over the parchment-colored sectional. The coffee table was covered in poster board, markers, sparkles, ribbon, and what looked like two half-drunken frozen mocha lattes. Not to mention a stack of headshots of herself. Did all seventeen-year-olds have head shots now? Or only the wealthy kids?
I ended up on the chaise part of the sectional with Charlotte’s laptop while Porter and Charlotte sat on the floor around the coffee table discussing slogans. I had a hard time concentrating on Charlotte’s reports between their chatter and running the night’s events through my head. Maybe it was a mistake to come here. Not that I was given a choice. My future hung in the balance, professionally and personally. If I couldn’t get my personal life in the kind of shape Sharon found acceptable, then what? And what was acceptable? Porter didn’t have to be part of that equation, did he? I wished Natalie was home to talk to, but she and Mr. Clairborne were meeting friends for dinner.
I peeked over the laptop to watch Porter. He was doing his best to act present in the moment for his sister, but his demeanor was subdued.
“What is the theme of your prom again?” Porter asked.
“Fairytales,” Charlotte responded.
“Hmm.” Porter thought for several minutes and looked up something on his phone. “How about, ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, Charlotte Clairborne is the fairest of them all. Vote Charlotte for prom queen.’”
Cute and clever. I thought for sure Charlotte would think so too. She pursed her lips and scrunched her gorgeous face. “I like it,” she said with unease, “but some of my friends have been nominated and that might sound mean.”
Wow. There was more to her than I gave her credit for.
Porter gave her a genuine smile. “You’re right. How about? ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, vote for Charlotte, queen of the ball.’”
Her pretty blue eyes lit up as if they were filled with bioluminescent proteins. “You’re a genius,” she sang. She hugged his neck.
He reciprocated, except his hug was drawn out with deep emotion. As if he was trying to convey how truly sorry he was. By the way she held on, I could tell how much she’d missed her big brother.
Porter caught me staring before I could avert my eyes. His eyes grabbed a hold of mine with such intensity that I couldn’t look away. I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me.
Charlotte severed the connection by pulling away from him. “We have a lot of work to do.”
My eyes darted back toward Charlotte’s report.
“I’ll be right back.” Porter got up and walked out of the room.
“What do you think of my report?” Charlotte interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up and smiled at her. “What I’ve read so far is excellent. Your thoughts are well organized, and I’m impressed with the extra research you did about the psychology of buying brand names. If I have any suggestions, I’ll add a comment.”
She looked relieved. “I really appreciate your help. Science isn’t really my thing.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She shrugged.
“What are you interested in?”
“More than just makeup and boys, but not smart stuff like you. That’s why I’m taking biology as a senior. And I had to do the science project for the extra credit.”
I lowered the laptop lid so I could give her my full attention. “Everybody has different interests; that doesn’t mean one is better or smarter than the other.”
“I don’t know,” she seemed embarrassed. “I’d really like to go into fashion merchandising. Maybe even have my own clothing line one day. But I have to go to Coastal Community College first and get my grades up before I apply to the school I want to go to in New York.”
“Do you have any sketches?”
Her face burst with happiness as if I’d crowned her queen. “I’ll go get them.” She raced out of the room, whizzing past Porter, who asked her where she was going. I wasn’t sure she heard him. Or maybe she chose to ignore him.
Porter still didn’t say anything to me, but he placed an ice bag on my ankle.
“Thank you.”
He only nodded before taking his seat back on the floor.
Charlotte was back in no time. She landed near me on the couch with a rather large sketchbook. She removed her laptop from my lap and set it to the side, replacing it with her drawings.
“I’m taking some sewing classes right now. Next year I hope to be able to have an Etsy shop where I can start selling some pieces.”
“Wow.”
“And Daddy says after I graduate from college and I’m ready, I can open my own boutique at the resort.”
I looked at Porter to see what he thought of that. His wide eyes said he was surprised, but more than that, I think he was hurt. He craved that same approval from his father.
Charlotte didn’t seem to notice. “You can look through that while Porter and I make my posters.” She hopped off the couch, full of energy.
I did just that even though fashion wasn’t my thing. I had to say she had talent. There were a few outfits she’d drawn that I could even see myself wearing, though they would probably be too pricey.
Charlotte noticed the silence between Porter and me, and neither of us could answer her question of why we weren’t speaking. As soon as I was finished flipping through her sketchbook, I finished editing her report. I needed some time alone to think. That’s when I made my escape.
~*~
I realized now why it was so easy for me to never feel anything. I always had something to do. Something to distract me. I could get lost for hours and hours in research. But now, if only I could take a walk on the beach, that would be something. Maybe tomorrow, if my ankle was up to it.
Instead, I sat in the middle of the plush bed, consumed with thoughts and feelings, staring at the rose Porter had given me on the nightstand. A floodgate had opened; tears poured down my cheeks. Never had I cried like this. I wasn’t even sure what I was crying about. Was it for things lost? Or the realization that I’d hurt Porter? Perhaps I was right and I would never have love in my life. That prospect now frightened me; it probably always should have, but I’d known so little of it and I’d forgotten what it was like.
And I was even more haunted now by the thought that I’d never told Porter that I loved him. I’d been afraid it was one of the reasons he left or moved on. And I was right.
I threw myself against the bed and curled up into a ball. I wasn’t sure I liked having feelings. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon . . . I had to stop this. I couldn’t keep hiding behind my coping mechanisms. My life up to that point had been one big one. I had to allow myself the opportunity to feel, even if it hurt. The question was, why did I hurt so much? I don’t know how long I lay there, but it felt like hours. For someone who knew so much, I felt as if I knew nothing.
Then a light went on—literally—in the bathroom.
I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair that had fallen out of the side bun. I stared at the door and listened. I could tell he was trying to be quiet. It didn’t surprise me. He’d always been considerate. I knew then I had to do one of two things, get over Porter once and for all, or give him a second chance. Either way, it involved getting to know him again.
I inhaled and closed my eyes. My cerebrum wanted to hide behind each and every fact I could recite. My heart refused to be ignored, though. It demanded I heal it one way or the other. I owed it at least that after everything we’d been through together.
“Porter,” I called in a voice that didn’t sound like my own. I didn’t feel brave enough, but somewhere I’d found the courage.
I heard him turn the water off, but he didn’t respond. Maybe he thought he was hearing things.
I sat up a little taller, my heart begging for me to try again. I was about to until the doorknob turned, and a sliver of light shined through.
“Holland,” he spoke softly, “are you okay?”
For once I owned my feelings. “Not really.”
The door flew open. There he stood with only his dress pants left on. “Is it your ankle? Can I get you something?”
I shook my head. You can do this, my heart reminded me. “I know it’s late, but can we talk?” My bedside clock read 1:52.
He didn’t even have to think about it. Before I knew it, he joined me in the middle of the bed. He leaned on one hand, and with the other touched my cheek.
“Have you been crying?”
I probably had a black ring around my eyes since I’d failed to take my makeup off. I wasn’t used to wearing it. I used my fingers to wipe under my eyes. “I must look awful.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” His eyes burned bright in the semi-darkness.
“Porter—”
“Holland,” he interrupted, “I’m sorry about tonight. I shouldn’t have—”
“You don’t need to apologize.” It was my turn to interrupt him. “I needed you to know how I felt back then, but there are some other things I need to tell you.”
He edged closer, eager to listen.
I could feel the heat emanating off him. Not sure it was helping the situation, but there was no denying how beautiful he was. I had to keep my eyes from drifting down to admire his chest. I took a soul-bearing deep breath in and out. It wasn’t working. My words were getting stuck somewhere between my heart and mouth.
Porter took one of my hands and held it between his own, ever patient.
The knot in my throat loosened. “When I met you, you opened the door to a whole new world for me. A world where love existed. Before you, I don’t remember anybody loving me, not even my family.”
His jaw clenched at the mention of them.
“There was no one to teach me how to love or even what it really meant, so when you began expressing your love verbally, I was on one hand happier than you can imagine, but I couldn’t reciprocate because I didn’t know love. All I’d known my whole life was neglect and indifference. What I experienced with you was the exact opposite, but I didn’t know if that was love.”
I had to take another breath and draw some strength from his tender eyes.
“I could tell that you were disappointed each time I didn’t reciprocate. You don’t know how bad I wanted to, but I needed to know for sure. I researched online and at the library about love, trying to figure it out.”
He chuckled, not surprised.
“It got me no closer to knowing, but then, remember the night we spent out under the stars on the dunes?”
“One of the best nights of my life.”
“Mine too,” I whispered. “Lying in your arms that night while you told me stories of each constellation, I realized there wasn’t a right or wrong answer. I could decide what love was, and if what I felt for you wasn’t love, it had to be something better. But what is better than love?”
Porter stroked my cheek. “Nothing,” he breathed between us.
“That’s what I thought too. I knew then I had fallen in love with you. And I wanted to tell you. I tried so many times.”
“But?”
I made myself keep eye contact with him. “Besides being nervous, I knew that summer something had changed between us. Sometimes you were so distant.”
“Holland—”
“Please let me finish.” I wasn’t sure how long my courage would hold out.
He nodded.
“I wondered if part of the reason was because I never told you how I really felt and maybe you felt rejected. But I think more than anything, it made sense. We came from two different worlds. I didn’t want you to think I was making some desperate attempt to hold on to you. But by the end of the summer, I needed to tell you for my own good. I needed you to know, regardless of how things ended up, what you meant to me. What you had done for me. You changed my life,” I choked out.
The sheen of mist in his eyes made my own tear up.
“In an instant though, it was all gone. You were gone.”
He said nothing, just like that night, except this time he pulled me to him with urgency and cradled my body against his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him like I’d clung to his memory over the years.
There we stayed, wrapped up in each other surrounded by semi-darkness until the early morning hours. The faint light that lingered from the bathroom was like the tiny shred of hope in my heart that was done being ignored. It was fighting its way through the dark, telling me I deserved love as much as anyone. And despite my life’s circumstances, I was capable of giving it.