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Five steps from opening the door, I spot him. Gavin.
He stands across the street, in front of a clothing store, watching me. How long has he been there? Why wasn’t I checking across the street too? Clad in a pair of dark gray and black checkered shorts, a form-fitting black T-shirt, and dark sunglasses shielding his eyes.
I don’t need to see his eyes to know he has missed just as much sleep as me. Has been in just as much pain as I have been.
We stand staring at one another for a moment. And it isn’t until someone else leaves the cafe that I move from where I have been locked in place. As my feet shuffle toward the exit, he raises his hand and waves.
When I step onto the sidewalk, I shift to the side and move out of pedestrian foot traffic. The moment I lock eyes with Gavin again, he starts crossing the street and walking in my direction. When he crosses the double line in the center of the street, I run. And I hear him yelling and running after me.
“Cora!” Gavin screams. “Cora, wait!”
With my arms pinning the cameras to my chest, my run morphs into an awkward jog. I weave in and out of the growing crowd, spotting my car in the spaces one block away.
I will make it before he catches me.
Repeating the mantra with my eyes focused on the driver’s side door of my car, I almost jog in front of a moving car. Almost. But Gavin yanks on my bicep just in time to pull me out of the street.
“Oh my god, Cora! Are you okay?” Gavin holds me at arm’s length and inspects me head to toe. Once he determines I am unscathed and his breathing settles enough, he speaks up. “You didn’t have to run into traffic to get away from me.”
Stunned, I stare back at him. Is he really here? Is he back? For good? I shake my head, not wanting to get ahead of myself. One step at a time, Cora. No sense in getting your hopes up when you don’t have all the facts.
“I wasn’t purposely running into traffic. Just wasn’t paying attention. Sorry I scared you,” I say. Because it’s true. I would never do anything to that extreme.
Gavin bends at the waist, places his hands on his knees and breathes heavily. After a moment, his breathing regulates and he stands up straight. “Why were you running from me?” He studies the lines of my face as his bunch just above the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t know. Guess I thought it’d be better than confronting you and losing my shit. The last few weeks have been a clusterfuck. Not sure how much more I can handle,” I admit.
He nods and purses his lips before relaxing them again. “I deserve that. Can we please go somewhere and talk? There’s a lot I need to tell you. And even more wrongs I need to make right.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and teeters back on his heels as he regards me.
We silently stand on the sidewalk for a couple awkward moments while I weigh my options. If I don’t grant him time to get everything out in the open, he will continue to pursue me tomorrow and every day thereafter. Plus, I need to know where everything stands with his agent and her. And where we stand. But where we stand will depend on what he tells me.
I would like to believe I am capable of forgiving him for the lies. Because deep down, he didn’t do it with the intention of hurting me. He simply thought it was something he could resolve without issue.
Only time will tell.
&nbs
p; “Yes. Let’s find somewhere to get lunch. Then you can tell me whatever it is you need to. But I make no promises about how I’ll feel afterward.”
He nods. “I accept that. If I were you, I’d feel the same.”
Gavin and I walk to my car and I stow my cameras. A few minutes later, we stroll into the Cider Press Cafe and get seated near the window. I peek at him over my menu, waiting to see his expression as he reads the food options. As soon as his gray irises thin and pupils dilate, I laugh. At least eating here will lighten the mood as we discuss some heavy stuff. Because right now, I need a good laugh more than anything.
Fifteen
Gavin
Eleven years ago
I stand in a sea of suffocating black polyester. Bodies bump against me every five seconds, and the lack of personal space pisses me off. Who the hell organized this damn function? Whoever the fucker is, they should be fired. Because this is nothing short of chaos.
After a few minutes, we are all corralled through a doorway and led out to a spread of plastic folding chairs facing a stage. On the stage is a podium, a table, and several more folding chairs. The principal and other school staff sit on the stage chairs, their robes puffy and sashes colorful. A person stands in the aisle along the student seating, directing us to which row we’re to sit in. Not like it matters, we all have our names written on a card that we hand to someone to read.
Once we are all seated, various teachers stand at the podium and share positive words for the future. I choose to ignore their words. The only reason I agreed to do this whole ceremony bullshit is the end result I hope to receive. A trip home to Florida.
The ceremony passes with nothing monumental occurring. When it ends, I walk into a room where we get our actual diploma. The second it is in my hands, elation courses through me. This small rectangle of paper is my ticket back to Cora. My ticket home.
Although we haven’t spoken in close to two years, I hope she will forgive me. When I stopped answering her letters, calls and texts, my intention was to do what was best for her, since I had no way to see her. To let her go.
