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The look on Amber’s face etched itself onto the inside of my closed lids, and I saw it every night as I drifted off to sleep. When the silence of the night descended, the echo of Amber’s cries ripped my heart apart.
The thought of Vander’s love fading to indifference and dismissal kept my mouth shut tight and cemented my feet to the concrete. I would not run after him and beg him to stay. He had to choose me freely.
He stopped and looked down at his feet, his hands fisted stiffly at his sides. He half turned his head. I held my breath in hope that he would turn all the way around and save me from myself.
Turn around.Please, please, please.
He paused, and I watched his shoulders heave before he shook himself, averted his head, and walked on.
Involuntarily, I called his name. Even so, my voice failed me, and my feet remained in place.
I watched until he reached the platform to the waiting train. He paused once more at the door, but a moment later, he was out of sight. I pivoted slowly on my heel and clumsily dodged the people blocking me on my way to my car, my mind and heart mired in a quicksand of my own making.
I opened my car door and slid behind the wheel, my breath escaping in panicked gasps.
Oh, God!
The sight of Vander walking away looped on repeat in my head. I turned the key in the ignition, drove to the back of the lot, and parked. I turned on the radio and blasted the music as loud as it could go to drown out the wet, garbled sound of my ruptured heart.
By the end of the third song, I could almost breathe.
Vander
We were out with friends when Ruby received the call from her older sister. Amber attended university in their hometown, so she could commute to school and still be around to help their grandparents with the restaurant and keep Ruby’s flighty ass in line until she finished high school.
Or so Ruby laughingly told me.
When it came time for Ruby to apply for university, Amber encouraged her to go wherever she wanted, feeling sure she could handle whatever came up at home. Ruby took her up on the offer, applying to go to a school in British Columbia, not for any particular program, but for the milder weather. She hated the cold with a passion she was convinced was due to her Greek heritage.
She changed her program twice that first semester, and for her third year she enrolled in a general arts program, not yet having any clear idea of what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
I met her the first week of our first year. She was sunshine and light and laughter. She drew me to her like a moth to a flame, a flame that enveloped me in gentle warmth, warming me with her ready smile.
It took time.
We became friends first, bonding over our shared Greek heritage, which I used shamelessly to my advantage. By the end of the first semester, we were inseparable.
She picked up her brand-new Nokia cell phone and punched the button to accept the call.
“Hey, koukla!” She answered upon hearing her sister’s voice.
Her bright smile dimmed, and fear widened her dark eyes. I focussed on the emotions flitting across her face and stepped closer.
“What happened?” She whispered, then turned and walked outside to escape the noise of the bar.
I grabbed her purse off the back of her chair and followed her out.
Right outside the door, she came to a full stop, blocking the entrance. With a firm hand to the small of her back, I gently propelled her off to the side.
“What do you mean, ‘Pappou is gone’? Where the hell did he go?” She snapped.
Her pretty face went slack with shock. She fell back against the outside wall, and I barely broke her fall before she hit the ground.
She sat with her legs splayed out in front of her. Dropping her head, she bent low over her knees, pulling air in through her nose and pushing it back out forcefully before dragging in another breath.
Hunkering down beside her, I listened shamelessly as her sister explained that their pappou had a heart attack at work.
Fuck.
