My heart crumbles again, knowing I did this to them.
I’d told Jonah when I came back from having lunch with Kellan that I was going to shut off my emotions from him for the next few days. That ... it wasn’t so much I wanted to hide anything from him, it was just ... I didn’t want to add my pain to his. So here I am, drowning in guilt and regret and so much sadness, and I’m oddly comforted by the fact neither of these dear men can feel the turmoil raging throughout me.
They’ve dealt with enough of my pain over the last few years. They don’t need anymore. This time it is all about them.
Jonah is saying, “Tomorrow, when ... when I influence you. What do you want to be? What kind of job would you like?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Kellan tells his brother. “It only makes sense I go into psychiatry, right? I mean, it’s what I’m good at. Or, at least, what I was good at. It’s not like I’ve ever been good at anything else.”
That’s a lie, I want to tell him.
“You’ll need a degree,” Jonah says.
“Then influence me to go back to school. Maybe that’s how I end up where I am—I’ve just moved to try to get into a school I want. It’ll explain how I won’t know anybody yet.”
For a moment, Jonah looks like he’s broken free from the weights resting on his shoulders; he rolls his eyes and then both brothers laugh easily in unison.
Once more, they look so alike to me as they toss the idea of Kellan going to college back and forth that I can’t help but wish to hold onto this slice of time forever and ever, so I can revisit in and live in it and know that I will always have them happy and together.
But even moments like these can’t last forever. Because sooner rather than later, the gravity of our actions catches right back up with us and all the smiles disappear.
Jonah’s knuckles are so white and strained from all the squeezing his poor hands are going through. “What about surfing? Do you ... is that something you still want to hold onto?”
Please say yes, I think. Don’t erase Kellan Whitecomb completely. I don’t think I can exist in a world where Kellan Whitecomb is completely gone.
But he says, “I think it best I don’t.”
“But ... you’re going into psychiatry,” I throw out desperately, “because it’s in your blood. So is surfing. Why would you ever want to give up something you love so much?” And it’s a stupid question, because compared to me and Jonah, surfing means nothing to him and I’m well aware of it.
“Big waves are in my blood,” he agrees. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll find my way back to the ocean. But chances are, if I go to those big waves, so might J. None of this is going to work if I keep running into you guys. There’s only so many times we can cut ourselves before we bleed out, C.”
Morning comes way too soon. It’s a beautiful day, sunny with no clouds in the sky. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and Annar is picture perfect beyond our windows.
“I had the lease signed over to your names yesterday,” Kellan is saying to Jonah. “I know Cameron and Will are moving back to their old place soon, but I told them they could stay as long as they need. I guess you can keep all the stuff in here or sell it or ...” He pans around the room, hands stuffed in his pockets as he takes in the sophisticated apartment Callie Lotus helped him decorate a few years back. “Do whatever you like with it.” His blue eyes briefly flick toward me before settling once more on his brother. “But, if you want my opinion, I like the idea of the two apartments becoming one. It makes sense once you guys start a family. You could use the extra room.”
Breathe, Chloe. Breathe.
There are two small duffle bags sitting next to the front door that Kellan packed a few hours ago. Out of everything he has, he’s fit all that he wants to take with him in such small pieces of canvas. At first, I ached, thinking about how he could reduce his life to such small quantities, but then I remembered that when I ran away, I took nothing with me. All too often, we assign meaning to our belongings. Certain clothes are worn during significant moments in our lives. Jewelry, too. And books and pictures and shoes and everything else we have and cherish. We accumulate smells and meanings and memories to such items. I refused to take any with me because I knew the weight of such memories would break me.
But then, Kellan is leaving us with no memories at all. Would it hurt to take his belongings with him? Have the Guard place them in his new home, so that when he wakes up tomorrow, he won’t be empty handed? That, despite erasing twenty plus years of life, he still has something of his past to hold onto, even if it means something completely different than it did just days before?
“That’s all you’re taking?” I end up asking.
He looks at me blankly, like I’m speaking in Greek.