Rest-Stop Romance

"We are the perfect couple, we're just not in the perfect situation." 

Everyone wants to tell me how to handle my life, my emotions. Everyone wants to weigh in, not let me make the same mistakes that they did. Everyone wants to tell me those ignorant phrases like "it will get better" and "hang in there" but they don't understand the paroxysm, that heart wrenching pain that those stupid phrases cause. I don't want to hear it even less that they want to try to use those words for comfort. I imagine that at some level, they know they aren't helping one bit but they do it anyway.

If I could do it over again, I can't say that I wouldn't fall in love with him because loving him was the happiest time, the easiest time, the first time I really trusted someone to be there to catch me when I fall- and with my history, believe me, I fall a lot. I wouldn't trade the memories with him for the world but I can't fathom how I will be able to keep going without him. The saddest part is, it's not like we aren't together, we just aren't with each other. Long distance relationships are notorious for never working out in the end.

And yet, everyone is telling me to hang on, yet I look at is as, "what is the point if it is going to end anyway?". The wasted gas and mileage, the lost time just traveling are just the tip of the iceberg. It is one thing to be able to talk to each other in a relationship and no one knows more than me about how important that is. But it can't be everything. I don't want to repeat the jokes I heard or told- I want him to hear them and laugh with me. I don't want to tell him about the drug addict who asked if I knew where to get a high, I want to exchange weird glances with him after the druggie walks away disappointed. I don't want to spend our date at a rest stop off the interstate eating fast food. I don't want to live without him, I want to experience life with him.

But I can't, because we're so far apart. And people don't understand how painful that is, not even him.

I can't keep doing this. The only way I can imagine getting through losing him, is to lose him completely and move on- to distract myself. But I can't break his heart and I know he is the same in that regard. I'm just going to have to wait out the sounds of shattering glass as this slowly tumbles in a downward spiral. The end seems so far away and is going to be so painful. And I'm only going to be told "It will get better" and then someone will end up a fistful of my emotion in their face.

~E J Royson

Property of C. B. Conrad (con't, part 3)

The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.

~Oscar Wilde

     When Alec disappeared back into the guest house, I went back upstairs and finished exploring the second floor. The master bedroom was beautiful, with a canopy bed and a cushioned window seat overlooking the gardens. I could imagine my grandmother spending much time on the window seat watching my father play in the gardens.

     Turning away from the view, I walked over to my grandmother's dresser where sat her perfume and jewelry. I sprayed a bit of her perfume into the air and let it take me back to my childhood when she would hold me the nights I couldn't fall asleep. As much as I loved the master bedroom, I wouldn't dare sleep in here and disrespect my grandmother's memory. 

     A guest bedroom down the hall was where I placed my bag and collapsed onto the bed. A blinking light on my phone showed my father had left me a message. He wanted me to come home for the funeral. I rolled my eyes and pulled out the journal my grandmother left me.

     I looked at the photo of the fountain and then out the window at the gardens. Every fountain was identical and there was no distinguishable difference between the areas surrounding them. I sighed and looked at the next page in the journal. 

My Darling Elizabeth,

     Enclosed within these pages are the stories my beloved daughter wrote before her untimely death. I hope that you can see through the tales and that you are given new insight into what life was like those many years ago. I remember telling you about the times I would sneak into the basement where my father made wine and my siblings and I would steal grapes until daddy yelled at us. I would love you to read these stories with the same eagerness in which you would listen to those which I would tell to you.
     While I may not be with you any longer, know that I will be watching over you. Remember when I would tell you how I would protect you? If you're walking and a streetlight goes out, it is my way of telling you danger is near. And if you are ever with a boy I don't like, I'll have a bird poop on him. My grandmother used to have similar ways of protecting me so it is only fitting I do the same. I love you little Lizard, my only wish is that you find love and live happy.
     Love always,
          Grandma Charlotte Betty Conrad

     I read and reread the letter, imagining my grandmother reading the words to me herself in her soft, loving voice. As tears welled in my eyes, I slipped the note back into the journal and left the room. I went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but it was empty.

     "I cleaned it out a few days ago. I can make you a sandwich if you want but you'll have to go to the grocery store," Alec said.

     "Thanks," I told him.

     Alec lead me out the back door and into the hot summer sun. Across the garden was a small one story house. Inside was quaint, undoubtedly decorated mostly by my grandmother. The windows were open and a light breeze was blowing through the curtains. There were four rooms: a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. It was perfect for one person. A dog sat on the couch and perked up its ears when I entered the house.

     "What kind of dog is that?" I asked him.

     "Shiba Inu," he said. "She's a good girl."

     I scratched the dog's ears, smiled and turned back to Alec who was shifting through his fridge. Over his shoulder, I saw most of it was beer. I wondered whether or not he was trying to drown a memory or just entertained a lot. 

     "Grilled cheese okay?" he asked.
     "Yeah," I looked around the small house. There were pictures of him and a young girl who I assumed his sister. Next to that was a photo of him with another girl. His arm was around her and she was looking at him with big eyes.

     "I forgot that was out," he said, taking the frame and putting it face down. "Sorry."

     "Who's the girl?"

     "She's gone so it doesn't really matter."

     I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that but I dropped the issue.

     "So why is a pretty little girl like you running away from home?" Alec asked.
     "Not to sound like an entitled little brat, but my dad doesn't exactly get me."

     "Oh really?" Alec chuckled.
     "I'm starting college in the fall and he is mad that I applied to a writing program instead of law school. On top of that, I applied to school down here so I wouldn't have to come home."
     "Well, he might have just wanted something he thought better for your future and is going to miss you."

     "He grounded me for the summer," I told him.
     Alec laughed and flipped the sandwich over. The butter on the bread began to sizzle in the pan and I walked back over into the kitchen.
     Leaning against the counter, I said "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant at you."
     "It's cool," he said looking over at me. "I remember what it was like at your age."
     "Cause four years makes that big of a difference," I jokingly muttered.
     Alec smirked and slid the sandwich onto a paper plate. "If you want, I can drive you to the grocery store later. I need to pick up a few things anyway."

     "That would be great," I smiled. "This is ridiculously good for just a grilled cheese sandwich," I told him.

     "I used to work in a kitchen in a really nice restaurant. You pick up a few tricks along the way."
     "That's pretty neat. I'll bet the ladies love you."

     "Well they certainly don't complain," he joked. "You go ahead and finish up, I'm going to shower real quick and I'll meet you in the driveway."

     "Okay," I said. Alec disappeared into his bedroom and I finished my sandwich.
     I went back out into the gardens and looked around at the fountains. None of them were running and the water was sitting stagnant. I wondered which was the one from the photo. I ventured behind the garden and saw a small pool and a gazebo. My grandmother really had a wonderful home. 

     I went back in the house and exchanged my flip-flops for converses and then I sat at the kitchen table making a list of things I would need. Out the window, I saw Alec lock his front door and head for the driveway. I folded the piece of paper into my back pocket and slipped out the front door. There was Alec, leaning against an old Dodge Charger in a black tank top with his aviator sunglasses. This was going to be an interesting summer.

(to be continued)

Property of C. B. Conrad (cont'd, part 2)

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." ~Winston Churchill 

     I looked the boy up and down, trying to determine what explanation would appropriate my presence in my grandmother's house when I hadn't spoken with her in so many years. His hair was light brown but the summer sun had streaked its bright rays through it, making parts look almost golden. His skin was tanned and his green eyes were shielded behind aviator sunglasses. He must have been close to six feet, if not a bit taller and he looked like he had played rugby for a time, having strong arms and broad shoulders.

     I tried desperately not to stumble over my words but all I could manage because my heart was pounding from excitement and fear was a shaky "Hi, I'm Liz Conrad, Charlotte's granddaughter."

      The boy removed his glasses and put them on top of his head. He eyed me questioningly, then stuck out his hand. "Alec," he said shortly.

     "Alec... who?" I inquired.

     "Lane," he said. "I was Charlie's care taker- house and health. I have a nursing degree as well as a vacuum cleaner."

     I chuckled and the boy put his glasses back on, turned and went back down the stairs.

     "Wait," I said, following him. "What are you still doing here? You know she died right"

     "No, I live under a rock," he said sarcastically. "Yeah, I know she died but she paid me through the end of the summer and I will be here helping the family take care of her stuff because that was the last thing she asked of me. Also, I'm contractually obligated."

     "How noble," I said. "So wait, how old are you?"

     "Just turned twenty-two, yourself?"

     "Eighteen."

     "It's a fun age," he told me. "Barely legal and all that."
     My heart jumped into my throat when he said that and I tried to figure out what he meant. Alec brushed into the parlor and poured himself a drink. He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. 

     "I don't serve minors."

     "I wasn't going to ask."

     "Oh wait, you said your name is Liz right? Short for Elizabeth?"

     Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. "Yes," I said slowly. "Why?"

     "Your Grandma Charlie left something for you. She left letters for a lot of people and was always writing in her last days. She wanted to make it up to people she had hurt and all but she left you something else. Wait here."

     Alec put his drink down on the wood table and ran upstairs. I stared at the glass dripping condensation onto the antique piece of furniture. Looking around, I found a coaster and put the glass on top of that instead of the beautiful furniture. I didn't know if he was just careless or simply had that much disregard.

     I heard his feet thunder back down the oak steps and he rounded the corner into the parlor with a journal in his hands. It looked old but the cover was beautiful and as I looked over the first page, my grandmothers cursive was the same as I had always remembered it, but I was not about to read it in front of this boy who was still eyeing me questionably. I knew whatever she had to tell me was something I should read in private because her words would move me to tears.

     "So are you going to her funeral tonight?" I asked Alec.

     "Figured it was more a family thing. Should I take it you're not going either?"

     I looked down at the ground in silence for a moment before answering, "I had planned on just hiding here the rest of summer but I think my dad still has a final say on that, especially if I'd be staying in the same house with some guy."

     "Guest house," he said. "I don't stay here. So if you wanna hide and throw ragers, smoke, I don't care- it's not my house. I have the lease until the end of August then I'm out."

     And for whatever reason, I was sold on staying here. It would take a lot more than my dad driving down here and hauling my sorry-behind home to make me leave, even if it meant getting cut off. It was only a few months, and I'm sure with my dad not being home all that much anyway, I could convince him to let me stay. There were so many secrets about my grandma that I wanted to uncover- like this one photo taped onto the inside cover of the journal. It was of a fountain in the yard and in red ink, she had written the word "here". I had no clue what it meant, but I'm sure reading the rest of the book would help me figure it out.

(to be continued)