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“Paul, I don’t see what the problem is? Why are you acting like this?” I asked him, because his mood swings were starting to give me whiplash.
“Are you really that blind?” Paul asked me with a grimace on his face. “Do you really not get it? I came to your graduation so that you had someone who loved you paying you attention on your special day, don’t you get that? I ignored your warning to stay away because I knew how much it meant to you and I wanted you to know that you were loved, but all you did was take offense.”
“I said I was sorry for that,” I said quickly without replying to anything else that he had said.
“That’s just it, though, Isabella. Sorry isn’t enough. I know this is wrong, but I’m in love with you. I always have been. Do you really think that I’d have let you overshadow me for all of these years if I didn’t? Do you really think, after the years of bitchiness you’ve shown, that I’d still try to be by your side if I didn’t love you? How can you not know that? How can you not see it in my eyes every time you look so distastefully into them?”
I stood in shock. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure there was anything I could say. Paul had just declared his love for me, and although I hadn’t expected it and I’d never even thought about it as a possibility before, I realized that I felt the same way—the certainty of it dropped on my chest like a ton of bricks, then blossomed from my heart in the next instant, as though it had just been waiting for me to find it. I knew, though, that I couldn’t admit it. I knew that after the years of cold-shouldering him that I couldn’t suddenly turn around and claim that I cared. I knew even if I did that he wouldn’t believe me.
“I think you should go,” I said quietly, because I knew that my voice would give away the tides of sadness if I didn’t.
“Is that all you have to say?” Paul asked in a cold voice that seemed to cut through my skin and chill my bones.
“That’s all I can say,” I said without looking at him. I could hear the shuffling of his jeans against the sand as he pushed himself up, and then his footsteps as they drifted away from me. I wanted to turn around and watch him leave. I wanted to call him back and tell him that I felt the same way , that I’d never even realized until that moment, but I did—but I knew that I couldn’t. I just stood still, unlike the waves that were unrelenting in their mission to take away my place of safety from me.
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Chapter Six
I didn’t leave until the ocean had taken every last grain of sand from me. I stood on the edge of the broken path, looking at the waves that were hiding my little piece of paradise. I knew that I had to go back and talk to Paul. I knew that I couldn’t let him leave for New York without at least making my peace with him first.
He’d looked so hurt when I’d told him to leave. He’d looked destroyed when I didn’t return his feelings from my own heart. I didn’t want to destroy him. I didn’t even want to hurt him, but after years of pushing him out of my life, I couldn’t just turn around and declare my love for him, even if it were true.
I walked slowly back along the broken path and towards the town. The sun had already set beyond the horizon, and I was relying on the stars themselves to lead me back. I got to the outskirts of town and noticed how the stars seemed to fade as street lights took over. The light changed from a milky white to an orange glow that felt wrong and artificial after my trip to the beach.
It took me nearly an hour in total to get back to the house. I guess I let my mood control my speed, because it was normally only a ten-minute walk. The house was dark when I got in and I wondered whether I would find Paul in his usual spot in the kitchen, but when I walked in, I found it empty. I considered making myself a drink and going straight to bed, but I could feel a nagging voice in the back of my mind enforcing the idea that I had to talk to Paul before I did.
I made my way up to his room. I hadn’t been in his room for years, but I couldn’t imagine that it had changed much. He had a typical boy’s room that was messy and smelled like sweat. When I had last been in there, his walls had been covered in gaming posters and half-naked women, and his floor had been covered with dirty clothes.
I got to his door and knocked on it. I couldn’t hear any noise coming through the door, and for a moment I assumed that he was asleep, but then doubt crept in as I realized that Paul snored and that I’d always been able to hear him down the hallway, so I certainly should have been able to hear it from the other side of his door. I knocked again, this time more loudly, because I was sure that he was up and simply ignoring me.
I listened hard at the silence that was falling all around me. I was trying desperately to hear some kind of movement from the other side of the door. A slight shuffle of feet maybe, or something being put down, but there was nothing. I couldn’t hear anything at all and after a few frustrating moments, I pushed open the door to discover that his room was empty.
I stood for a moment and took in the chaos of his room. It hadn’t changed at all. He still had the same posters pinned to the wall, and if I wasn’t mistaken, some of the same dirty laundry was still strewn on the floor, even though years had passed since my last visit. I let my eyes glance around the mess as I tried to find clues as to where he might be, but there was nothing, and I walked back out of his room with heavy disappointment weighing down my mind.
It wasn’t until the next day, though, that my father told me where Paul was. I’d gotten up early so that I could make sure that I didn’t miss Paul before he left, but I’d found that I was already too late. He’d gone the night before. He’d left almost as soon as he’d gotten back from the beach. My father couldn’t understand what had made him leave so quickly. His mom didn’t seem fazed by it at all. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that she had realized that he was gone. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that Paul had left without giving me a chance to tell him about how I really felt.
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6 Years Later
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Chapter Seven
The cold wind was slapping against my face as I walked down the narrow sidewalk towards my apartment. Six years had passed since I'd left home for college, and in those six years, I hadn’t seen Paul once. At first, I returned on the holidays thinking that, perhaps, he might do the same and that we would finally get a chance to talk, but after the first two years, I realized that he had no interest in coming back to the home where I’d never made him feel welcome.
I’d thought about asking my dad for his number, but I felt that Paul had made things crystal clear in his avoidance of me, and I felt as though he deserved to have his wishes respected. I wanted to talk to him, though, every time I saw a feature in a magazine with his face on it. I wanted to tell him how proud I was and how well I thought he was doing. I wanted to tell him that his new look suited him, and that any girl would be lucky to hear a declaration of love from him.
I got to my apartment and I buzzed myself in, before climbing the three floors of stairs that often appeared to me like Everest when I’d had a night out on the town. I got to my floor and walked over to the green door that had paint crumbing away from the damp wood that sat underneath. I unlocked it carefully and pushed it open quickly, so that the long creaking noise that sounded like a person getting murdered wouldn’t be prolonged.
My apartment was nearly as cold as it had been outside. The only difference it seemed to offer was the protection from the wind and, even then, if I stood too close to a window, I could feel it creeping in through the cracks in the window panes. The apartment was affordable, though, and since I’d just left college and I was yet to get the high-paying job that I’d always dreamed about, I had to make do with it.
I shivered as I pulled out the old coffee maker that always seemed to splutter to life whenever I called upon its services and I put it on. It gurgled to life and then slowly started to piss murky-colored water into the jug that sat beneath it. I sighed as I walked over to the dingy cupboard that was half
hanging off of the wall and then pulled out a mug. It was when I was pouring the luke-warm coffee into my mug that my phone rang and made me jump out of my skin.
I pulled it out of my pocket and frowned when I saw my father’s name flashing on the screen. My dad never called me. It was either I called him, or we didn’t speak. I pulled it up to my ear quickly and clicked the “accept” button.
“Dad?” I asked, because I couldn’t quite believe that he’d made first contact.
“Isabella, I’m glad I’ve caught you. I’ve got some terrible news,” my father said in a voice that was distorted with pain and heavy with sadness.
“What’s happened, Dad? What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, because I could tell that something truly bad had happened.
“It’s your stepmother, Isabella. She’s been ill for a while, but I thought she would get better,” he started and I could hear his voice breaking with every word that he said. “She didn’t, though, Isabella. She’s gone. She’s gone and she’s never coming back. I don’t know what I’m going to do. What do I do now? How do I move on, knowing that I’ve lost two of the most important women in my life? Tell me, Isabella, what do I do now?”
I stood in silence. I could hear the almost-silent sobs of my father through the speaker on my phone and I could feel my heart breaking as I desperately wanted to reach out and give him a hug. “Oh, Dad, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think there is anything you can say, sweetheart. I don’t think there is anything anybody can say.”
“Does Paul know yet?” I asked my father as my thoughts turned to him.
“I haven’t been in touch yet. I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. He hasn’t seen her in six years. He’s going to be heartbroken.”
“Dad, don’t worry about it. Send me through Paul’s number and I will call him and let him know. I’ll get in touch with the airport, too, and see when the next flight back to town is, and then I’ll let you know, okay?”
