Even Kendra’s words—whether they leave or they die; there’s no difference if you don’t care.
“OK,” I say quietly, giving up because I know it’s the right thing to do—I knew all along it would come to this moment, and to drag out the inevitable is the same thing as dragging out the pain. My gaze falls to my bare feet standing amid the prickly, unkempt grass of my backyard. “I’ll take you to the airport.” I never imagined such simple words could cut so fucking deep.
“Thank you,” she says just as quietly.
I step aside to give Sienna space as she ascends the steps and disappears inside the house to pack her things, the sound of the screen door hitting the wood frame lightly, as if she made it a point not to let it slam behind her.
We don’t talk on the drive. Not once. I never feel her eyes on me from the passenger’s seat, or any indication that she might secretly want me to be the one who speaks up first—exactly the opposite: I get the sense she doesn’t want me to say anything, that if I do, it’ll only make things harder. The silence is shattering, as if everything we experienced together in her short time here, how close we became, has so quickly become nothing more than a memory. The pain I feel is more than crushing; it’s a burden that I know I’ll carry with me forever: I knew better than to open myself up to a girl like her—the perfect girl—because it never would’ve worked, just like she said; as much as I wanted to believe that it somehow could, that Sienna could overlook and accept my dangerous lifestyle, I know deep down that she won’t be able to. And so I’ll let Sienna go. Against all that’s inside of me, all the things I want to say to her to make her stay, I’ll let her go. And things will go back to normal.
Normal … I hate normal; the thought of going back to the way things were before Sienna came into my life with her faultless, infectious smile and eyes brighter than the sun—I don’t want to think about it.
Maybe hate isn’t the word. I fear normal.
Not until it’s time for Sienna to board her plane do we finally speak.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fly over with you?” It took everything in me to say those words and not all the things I really want to say. My heart is breaking into a thousand unrecognizable pieces; tears burn the backs of my eyes as I force them down; my chest feels heavy like a stack of bricks sits on top of it; my throat is beginning to swell and I can’t fucking swallow.
“I’ll be fine,” she says.
Silence.
I look at the floor. She looks at the plastic seat beside her.
“Luke.” She speaks up reluctantly. “I really did have a great time. I’ll never forget this … vacation.” It seemed hard for her to say that word, as if it didn’t feel like the right one. “Or how you helped me with my fear of heights. It really does mean a lot to me. I hope you know that.”
I nod and try to force a smile, but I doubt it looks very much like one. Inside it’s the furthest thing from a smile.
She reaches out and touches my arm. “Thank you for everything—and please tell Alicia and Melinda that I’m sorry I can’t be there to help anymore.” She leans in and presses her soft lips to the corner of my mouth, and I’m on the cusp of losing it, but for her sake I keep my head on my shoulders. “I hope everything going on in your life works out,” she says as she pulls away.
I hope so too, Sienna … but somehow now that you’re leaving, I doubt it will.
“Sienna,” I call out as she walks toward the gate.
She stops and turns around.
“Remember what I said about your photography.”
I smile a little.
She smiles back, nods, and walks away.
TWENTY-TWO
Sienna