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Sifting through the photos, I land on one of my two favorites. The photo is just of Cora. We were wandering along the trail in Walsingham Park and I had been holding her camera for a bit after she stopped to use the restroom. At the time, I had been walking ten feet behind her. Her eyes drifted up to the trees, searching for birds or squirrels. Or maybe she was simply admiring the trees—she did that sometimes, got lost staring at the trees. I lifted the camera to my eye and snapped the shutter, capturing her profile with the sunbeams haloing around her. She looked like a peaceful angel. My peaceful angel.
/> When she printed the black and whites, she teased me and asked why I took the picture. My response to her was “you just looked so peaceful and in your element. I wanted to capture the moment.” All she did was nod and smile.
My second favorite photo was of the two of us. More like our silhouettes. In the photo, we stood side by side with an arm around each other. A friendly guy on the beach snapped the photo as the sun set behind us. It wasn’t noticeable to most people who glanced at the photo, but we were both smiling like idiots. Giddy after dating each other for six months. Just looking at the photo now makes me smile like a fool. A fool madly in love with his soul mate.
I set the two photos beside each other and stare at them a while. Go back to the time they were taken. Remember how I felt those days. How the sight of her made my heart swell and breath vanish. Tears drip from my chin and splatter on the photos. I trace my finger over Cora in each of the pictures.
Fuck. Two years away from Cora will feel like an eternity.
“Gavin?” Mom bellows from somewhere outside the four walls that will now be my room.
I ignore her call a minute as I continue going through the box. Get lost in the drawings and photos as tears continue to fall. But the moment doesn’t last long.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Gavin, didn’t you hear me calling you?” Mom asks. In my periphery, she stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, staring at my profile and the scattered images.
After a moment, I lift my tear-stained eyes to hers. Yeah, I heard you. But I don’t fucking care. That is what I want to say to her. But I don’t. Instead, I lie.
“Nope.”
I don’t elaborate. Don’t give her anything to expand on. Because I don’t want to look at her. Don’t want to speak to her. And a second later, I go back to staring at the items in front of me. But she interrupts me again and I groan.
“Well, Dad and I were thinking we should go out and grab something to eat. Maybe see what’s near here too. Sound good?”
She is doing her best in a shitty situation she is aware upsets me. And I guess I should reciprocate and try not to be too much of a dick. I mean, is it really such a bad thing that she is good at what she does? That her boss deemed her better than others in her field. A good son would be happy for his mom. A good son would be proud. But every time I try to be happy for her, all I think about is how I drew the short end of the stick in this whole situation. How I had no say or alternative.
I may be sixteen, but shouldn’t my voice count in matters like this? Shouldn’t I have a say?
“Yeah, Mom. Can you give me a few minutes? I want to call Cora before it’s too late for her.”
Something new to deal with. Fucking time zone differences. Bad enough I don’t get to see her or speak to her regularly. Now I have to fight with the fact that our lives exist with a three-hour time disruption.
“Sure thing. Ten minutes. And then we’ll go.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She gives me a sad smile then closes my door and walks off. Once she has been gone a few seconds, I call Cora.
She answers on the first ring. The moment I hear her voice, every live wire inside of me calms. Almost three thousand miles away and Cora still holds the balm to my heart. We talk nonstop for ten minutes—her more than me. She talks about Shelly hanging out with her and staying over at her house. How they have been watching Lord of the Rings on repeat and Shelly wants to kill her. This makes me laugh for the first time in weeks.
And then Cora becomes quiet. So quiet I wonder if she fell asleep. I close my eyes for a minute and picture her sleeping with me curled up behind her. Our bodies flush and my arms wrapped around her waist. Before I ask if she is still awake, she whispers into the phone.
“It hasn’t even been a whole day and I already miss you so much.” Her voice trembles over the line and I know she is holding back tears. I won’t tell her, but I saw her collapse outside my house as we drove away. She may have thought we were far enough away, but we weren’t. And the sight of her on the ground crying crushed me. The fact I couldn’t turn the car around and go to her, scoop her up in my arms and rock her to soothe the pain, kills me.
“Me too, baby.”
“I’m getting a job soon. Save up money so I can fly out to see you. Maybe by our anniversary.”
Hope filters through her words and spreads from her phone to mine. With it, I sense her warmth and a hint of gladness. Maybe that’s what I should do too. Find a job and save money. Teens don’t make much money, but earning something is better than nothing at all. Maybe I will call it my Cora fund. Both of us can save up to fly back and forth.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that too.”
Just as Cora starts talking again, Dad walks into the room and signals it is time to go. I nod and hold up a finger. He taps his watch and walks out, leaving the door open. Door open equals time is up.
“Gavin?”
“I’m still here, baby. Mom and Dad said I need to get off the phone. We’re going out to dinner.”
