I've never been good at waiting. Not when I was in trouble at school and I had to wait outside the principal's office, not when I went with my mom to her appointments and we had to wait for her test results, not when I got arrested and I had to wait for my parole officer to show up… and definitely not when I sat waiting at the hospital after Tara fell during her audition.
Even now, I find myself fidgeting, struggling to control my nerves. I sit at my usual table, the same table where I sat as a student. I lean back in my chair, close my eyes and breathe. In and out… in and out. It doesn't help because as soon as my eyes are shut, I see her. She's lying on her back, tears streaming down her cheeks. It's an image that's haunted me since she fell, reminding me of all the times I have left her, all the times I have taken so much from her without giving anything in return.
I open my eyes quickly, needing to erase those images from my mind, to ease the overwhelming guilt that I've been carrying around with me for the last few months. I run my fingers through my hair and look out at the water, watching the waves roll gently across the harbor. Effortless and natural, graceful even. Again I think of Tara, but this time, it evokes much happier memories… the sweetness of her smile, the way her eyes would light up when we were together, the warmth of her hand in mine.
Unable to wait any longer, I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my contacts until I get to her name. I'm just about to call her when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"You're here early," she chirps.
I bolt out of my chair, nearly knocking it to the ground. I can feel her eyes on me as I grab it at the last minute and set it down loudly. Real smooth, the voice inside my head taunts.
"Oh you know… just wanted to get a good spot," I say casually, hoping she can't see the redness in my cheeks.
"Uh-huh, because the café is so crowded on a Sunday morning!" She teases, staring around at all the empty tables.
"Exactly," I tease back.
"Well as long as you've thought it through," she concedes and sits next to me, wincing slightly as she lowers herself into the chair.
"Are you sure you want to sit there? You'll have a better view over here," I say, pointing to the other side of the table.
"I didn't come here for the view Christian," she states obviously, rolling her eyes.
"Really? Well then, what brings you here on this fine day?" I drawl as I sit back down.
"Someone invited me and I never turn down free coffee," she smiles mischievously.
"Free you say? Bold move Webster," I smirk and raise my eyebrows.
"I learn from the best… besides you're the one with the job after all," she teases again.
"True." I smirk again, hoping that she won't be too offended, that it won't be too hard for her to hear.
"Hey!" She reaches over and swats me playfully.
"What? You started it!" I shoot back with a laugh, clutching my arm where she hit it.
"Fair enough…"
Her smile disappears suddenly and just like that, the mood has gone from light and teasing to heavy and awkward. Silence stretches between us and a strong sense of déjà vu hits me, only instead of sitting in a hospital room, this time we're sitting in the café.
"Well this is awkward," she muses.
"You think?" I smirk sarcastically.
"Don't worry, I won't ask you to leave this time," she smiles sheepishly and I know we're on the same page.
"Good to know," I smile. "So... are you sure you don't want to move to this side? The view really is better…" I offer again, trying to lighten the mood a little, to start over.
"Christian will you relax? I just want to sit here with you!"
"And why is that?" I ask curiously. I need her to tell me, to hear the words come out of her mouth. No guessing. No reading between the lines. No assuming anything.
After a few moments, she simply shrugs her shoulders and says, "Because I'm sick of it."
"Sick of what?" I ask tensely. What does she mean? My heart pounds loudly in my ears and my mind races. Any certainty I have managed to piece together is gone.
"Leaving you alone."
Relief rushes through me. She missed me! She wants to be with me! I try not to get too far ahead of myself, knowing that so much has to happen before we can go back there. All we're doing is sitting in a café with no clear knowledge of what we are. Friends? Is that all we are? It seems like such an odd word for us because on one hand, we are so much more, but on the other, we're not.
"What's wrong?" She reaches over and puts her hand in mine, concern etched on her face. It catches me off-guard and the nerves take over.
"Nothing," I brush her off, hoping she'll let it go. I should know better by now. Her face falls and her hand leaves mine, taking her warmth with it.
"Whatever Christian." The disappointment in her voice is thick and makes my palms sweat. She turns her head away from me, looking down the wharf. I try to think of something to say, but when I open my mouth nothing comes out so I settle for silence.
"You know it would be nice if you would just talk to me," she murmurs. "Not because you feel bad or because you're trying to make up for whatever's been going on for the last few months but because you want to. I shouldn't have to try this hard to know what you're thinking! Why is it so hard for you to talk to me?"
Her words hit me hard because it's true. I only talk to her when it's convenient for me. When I need something from her. This realization burns in my brain and I can't hold my anger in any longer.
"Because I shouldn't need your help Tara!" I shout, unable to control my temper. "I should be able to figure stuff out on my own! With everything you're going through, you shouldn't have to deal with all my crap too! It's not fair to you!"
I'm breathing heavily as I fight back the tears in my eyes. I stare straight at her, hoping I haven't scared her too much. She swallows slowly and I can see the wheels turning in her head.
"Christian, that's the worst excuse I've ever heard! Haven't you learned by now that being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be? That the only reason any of us have made it this far is because of each other? Hasn't Sammy's accident taught you anything?"
Her voice cracks at the end and hearing his name slices through me. No matter how much time has passed, the pain of losing Sammy hasn't gone away. It's as real now as it was when it happened.
I know he wouldn't want me to wallow, that he would want me to move on and be happy. And I know that being miserable won't solve anything. Our last year at the academy was proof of that. Even after I came back, I still wasn't happy. At least not like before. Even though I knew I was in the right place, it wasn't the same without Sammy. He had been the heart of everything. He made everything better. And the fact that everyone seemed to fall right back into the school year as if nothing bad had ever happened only added to the resentment I felt. And of course, Tara took the brunt of my anger. I knew she would… that she wouldn't fight back, that she would let me yell at her and blame her for things that weren't her fault. None of my other friends would, which is why she was such an easy target.
"I think Sammy's… accident… has taught us too many things," I answer somberly.
"True," she answers, equally as stoic. "But as long as we don't forget him… as long as we remember all the good times, then maybe it will make the bad times a little easier." She smiles sweetly and her cheeks turn red, embarrassed by her heartfelt statement.
"When did you get so smart Training Bra?" I ask. She hasn't been this insightful in a long time. She's always been kind and caring but when Saskia broke her back, it was like her light had diminished a little. She had lost some of that wide-eyed wonder that had set her apart from the others, that had drawn me to her in the first place.
"Hey, I know things!" She snaps, half offended and half amused.
"Yeah? What sort of things?" I joke lightly.
"All sorts… ask me anything!" She states matter-of-factly.
"But what if you don't know the answer?" I challenge.
"Then I'll make something up!" She counters.
"And how am I supposed to know if you're lying or telling the truth?"
"You'll have to figure that out on your own," she replies slyly. Her eyes sparkle and I know she is proud of herself for coming up with such a cheeky response.
"Well in that case… when did your first know you wanted to be a ballet dancer?" I hold my breath as I wait for her answer. I don't want to upset her with such a sensitive question but it's all I can think of.
"Christian, you already know the answer to that," she says nervously. She's not sure she wants to answer. It's as though she thinks I'm trying to trick her, lure her into a trap. And maybe I am.
"Humor me." I smirk hoping that it will ease her nerves and keep her talking.
"Fine… I was five years old and I had just jumped off a hay bale and broken my wrist," she answers quietly.
"And why did you want to be a ballet dancer?"
"Because it was the closest thing to flying," she breathes softly.
"And how about now?"
"What?" Her brow furrows and she frowns slightly.
"Why do you want to be a ballet dancer?" I indulge her.
The question catches her off-guard and she's not quite sure how to answer. It should be the same – to feel free, to fly. But I know it's not. We've been through so much, changed so much. I need to know that she's doing this for herself and not just because it's what she's expected to do.
"Why are you asking me this?" Her voice shakes and I know I've hit a nerve. Her fall has made dancing an unknown, something bright and shiny in the distance that she can't quite grasp.
"Just answer the question Tara," I press further, keeping my voice as even as I can.
"I just…" I can the tears forming in her eyes and guilt seizes through my chest. I hate making her cry.
"Dancing is everything I've ever wanted! How can I just give up on it? I have to believe it's possible otherwise what's the point? Of being at the academy, coming back after all my injuries, putting up with all the doubt and the pain… it's my dream."
Her response breaks my heart because I know it's true. It's all she has left. Her dream of dancing is what's driving her, keeping her going when she's not sure if she has the strength to make it through.
"But what if you can't dance?" I ask, knowing I'm treading dangerously.
"What do you mean?" She asks suspiciously. She knows what I mean but won't allow herself to say it. She narrows her eyes and I know my plan has worked, maybe a little too well. But I need her to be angry. When she's angry, she'll let down her guard and tell me what's really on her mind.
"Tara-" I start but she cuts me off sharply.
"Why would you even say that?" She asks. "You're just like the rest of them! 'It's okay Tara… Don't push yourself too hard Tara!' Why can't you just leave me alone? I know what I'm doing!" She stands quickly and starts walking.
"Tara wait! Where are you going?"
She doesn't answer and keeps walking so I jump up quickly to catch her. She hasn't had that much of a head start but she's moving fast. She must hear me coming up behind her because she suddenly spins around, her face just a few inches from mine.
"You know, I expected my parents to tell me it was okay if I couldn't dance… even Kat, but you? I thought that you'd be the one to tell me to fight! But I guess I was wrong! Apparently Abigail is the only one who believes in me! How weird is that?"
"Tara, she's not the only one," I say gently, trying to calm her down a little.
"Really? Who else then because it seems to me like-"
"I do!" I yell back. She doesn't respond right away but when she does, the confusion in her voice is clear.
"Then why-"
"Because I need to be sure! It's the only way I can let you do this-"
"Let me?"
"You know what I mean! This has to be what you want – for you and no one else! And if it is then I'm in. I meant what I said yesterday. I won't let you down again. Anything you need, I'm here."
She breathes heavily in silence and her cheeks turn bright red. Silence stretches painfully between us as she processes everything I've just said. Her hair blows freely in the breeze and I reach out and tuck a strand of it behind her ear. She is so beautiful and all I want to do is pull her into my arms and hold her but before I can make a move, she leans forward and wraps her arms around me. I follow suit, reaching up to run my fingers through her hair. I breathe her in as she holds me tightly and I know I need to let her decide when it's enough.
"Thank you," she cries.
"No worries." I smile, cradling her head in my hand. She breathes in deeply and burrows her face into my neck and I close my eyes, hoping this moment will never end.
"You smell exactly the same as you did before…" Her voice trails off shyly. She doesn't need to finish her thought because I know what she means. Before we broke up. Before I crushed her heart over and over again. Before her entire world fell apart.
"Is that a good thing or a bag thing?" I tease nervously, unsure of what her response will be.
"Definitely good," she answers quickly, pulling back a little. She smiles and her cheeks redden again. She takes my hand in hers, warmth spreading quickly through me and my heart crashes loudly against my chest. She looks down at our hands and a tear rolls down her cheek and I reach over quickly to wipe it away.
"Tara what's wrong?"
"I can't believe how stupid I was…"
"What are you talking about?"
"I didn't want to push you," she admits quietly. "I let myself think that you needed time, that I needed to leave you alone. I didn't realize how much I would miss you."
"Hey, we're here now. That's all that matters." I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back. She meets my eyes and I am lost. It takes every ounce of strength I have to not pull her up against me and kiss her.
The desire in her eyes matches my own and my breath catches in my throat as she leans forward. She lets go of my hand and wraps it around the back ofmy neck, pulling me closer to her. When our lips meet, it's like I'm kissing her for the first time. Every other kiss pales in comparison to this moment. My skin tingles as her warmth rushes through me and everything around us disappears.
I'm disappointed when it's over but unlike our last kiss, she doesn't drop her gaze. She keeps her bright eyes on mine, a small smile playing across her lips.
"That was nice," she whispers, echoing my words from yesterday.
"Yeah it was," I respond, trying to get my breathing under control.
We stand there like statues and my mind races as I process what just happened. She kissed me. Why? All I've done is hurt her. How can she stand to be around me? How can she hold my hand and smile at me as if everything is okay?
"Tara, why did you kiss me?" I rasp, unable to keep the uncertainty out of my voice.
"Why did you kiss me yesterday?" She counters quickly.
"I asked you first," I reply, smirking a little. I can't let her off the hook that easily. She's just as good as I am at dodging uncomfortable situations. As much as she accuses me of not talking about the hard stuff, she does the exact same thing. As different as we are, we definitely have that in common.
"I don't know," she shrugs.
"Well you sure know how to make a guy feel special," I smirk again. I know she's just being shy, that she's afraid to tell me the real reason. Not that I can blame her. I haven't always been the best listener but it still annoys me. I still feel slighted by her offhand response.
"Christian, I didn't mean it that way. I don't know what to do! Part of me is saying that we can't be together, that too much has happened, that no matter how hard we try, we'll just keep hurting each other over and over… but the other part is telling me that we can make it work. That even though it won't be easy, it's worth it because if we really love each other then nothing else matters…"
She lowers her gaze and smiles, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.
"Hey, let me get that." I reach over for her bag and lift it off her shoulder to sling it over mine, surprised by how heavy it is. "Jeez Tara! This thing weighs a ton! What do you have in here? Rocks?"
"Very funny Christian, give it back!" She makes a grab for it but I duck out of her reach, throwing my arms up in victory.
"Not until you tell me what's in here!" I tease.
"It's none of your business! Just give it back!" She whines, extending her arm towards me. I walk back to her, acting like I'm going to hand it over but at the last minute I reach for the zipper and open it.
"Christian don't!" She protests, grabbing hold of the straps, but it's too late. I reach in and pull out the first thing my hand touches. It's a book. A textbook to be exact. The Book On Writing: The Ultimate Guide to Writing Well. She grabs it out of my hand and I quickly reach in and pull out another. Writing Magic: Creating Stories That Fly.
"What is this Tara?" I ask, my voice harsher than I mean it to be.
"What does it look like Christian?" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Her cheeks flame but her tone is defiant, daring me to tease her about my discovery.
"So, what… you want to be a writer now?" I scoff.
"I don't know maybe," she replies nervously. "It's something that I've been playing around with lately. I started writing a little in the journal Saskia gave me during third year but since my fall… I've been writing more. Outside of therapy, there isn't much I've had to do so it passes the time. It's really helped me get through the last few months…"
When she reaches for her bag again, I let her have it. She puts her book back in the bag and then takes the one in my hand as well.
"Say something please. What are you thinking?"
I don't know what to think. My mind races as I try to understand what she's saying and I ask the only question that comes into my head.
"So does that mean you're not going to dance?" I'm a little annoyed. After the conversation we just had where she assured me that ballet was more important to her than anything…
"What? No of course not!" She protests. "Dancing is still my dream but… I can do both. I've just been having trouble organizing my thoughts and these books seem to help."
I stay silent and I know she is waiting for me to say more but my mind is blank. I can't wrap my head around it.
"I can see the wheels turning. Please tell me what you're thinking," she pleads.
What do I say? She may want my approval but she doesn't need it. Whenever I thought she couldn't do something, it always came back to bite me. In the end, she's going to do what she wants. Like always.
"I think… that you can do anything. You always have. You don't need me to tell you if it's a good idea or not. Do you like to write?"
"Yeah," she admits quietly.
"Then write. You've always been good at telling a story," I say sincerely.
"Thanks Christian, that means a lot." She quirks her mouth into a small smile and drops the remaining book back into her bag. "Is it weird that I like to write?"
"You've done weirder things," I tease.
"True. It's a miracle that I've made it this far."
She tries to keep her words playful but I can hear the doubt behind them. Again I'm reminded of her struggle, of my gaping absence since her fall. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but I can't help thinking that this is all my fault. If I had been there, if I hadn't let my petty jealousy get in the way… I grit my teeth together and clench my fists, trying to breathe.
"I'm sorry Tara," I whisper, reaching out to hold her hand in mine.
"For what?" She asks.
"For thinking that you were better off without me. I was stupid too! You were hurt and all I thought about was myself!"
"Christian stop… you can't keep beating yourself up over every little thing! It's in the past and if we're going to move on, we have to let it go. No rules, no distractions. Just you and me. We're here now, that's all that matters right?"
She smiles and the sincerity in her voice gives me the courage to believe that we can make this work, that everything is going to be okay. I know where I need to be. She is where I need to be.
Filled with a renewed sense of purpose and hoping that somehow I won't manage to ruin everything again, I simply smile back at her and say, "Right."