Kristie Cook - Promise

"Um, I don't know right now, actually. I've been ignoring my book and…"

"Yeah, that's cool. I understand." He smiled weakly. We stood there awkwardly, then his head cocked and his eyes seemed distant for a brief moment. He headed for the door. "Well, uh, you're okay here?"

I smiled and thought my cheeks would crack from the falsity of it. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay." He didn't seem convinced, but didn't press it.

"Very weird," I muttered to myself after he left. Over time, we'd become a lot friendlier at the store, but nothing more. He came around sometimes to fix something around the house, but we never talked; I was always shut in my room, writing. I wondered what prompted him to stop by and just check up on me. He hadn't done that since Mom had left town that one weekend. I figured he was just trying to be a friend, worried after seeing the whole thing go down at the pub.

I headed to the kitchen to dump my soggy cereal. There was another knock and the door opened.

"What now, Owen?"

I took two steps into the hallway and ran into—electric pulses through my body— Tristan. My stomach rolled and fell to my thighs.

"Oh," I breathed. We both stopped dead. Mmm…he smells so good. I couldn't look at his face, though, so I stared at the floor. He put his thumb under my chin—more electric shocks—and lifted my face, forcing me to look at him.

"You look like hell," he said. I pulled my face away and headed back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's what I've been told." I turned and glared at him, then said harshly, "You can thank yourself for that."

He scowled. "I do blame myself," he muttered.

He didn't look too good either. Still beautiful, just…wrong.

"You look like hell, too," I said.

He looked down at the box he held. "I brought this over for you."

He held the brown box out to me. I didn't take it.

"I don't want anything from you," I said coldly. His face broke, sadness overcoming it. Why am I acting like this? I couldn't look at him so I grabbed my bowl of soggy cereal from the table and took it over to the sink.

"It's your stuff," he mumbled. He set it on the table. "I was going through things before I started packing."

I whirled on him, dirty milk sloshing everywhere.

"You're packing ?" Panic squeezed my chest.

"Yes, I'm moving."

"You're moving ?" The bowl fell out of my hands and clamored into the sink. I couldn't breathe. Don't leave me! I swallowed hard to push down the lump in my throat. I thought it was my heart. I fought back tears, refusing to let him see me cry again.

"I shouldn't be around here." He studied my face, tried to look into my eyes, but I looked away, afraid of what he might see. He added quietly, "And, I guess there's nothing to stay for."

Me! Stay here for me! You can't leave me! I took a deep breath. I hoped he didn't hear how ragged it was…or that he did. And then I hoped he'd see the tears fighting to break so he'd know how I felt without my having to say it. Then I was scared of his reaction…or non-reaction. That he wouldn't care.

"Oh," I finally said, not able to say anything else, because if I did, it would only result in more rejection and pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I said honestly. He scowled again. "But I'll be fine. No permanent damage done, I'm sure."

Liar! Pain flashed across his eyes and then he composed himself.

"Yeah, of course. Well, I guess I'll leave you alone." He lifted my chin with his thumb again and gazed into my eyes. I couldn't even see the specks of gold in his, they were so dim. No sparkle at all. I could feel the tears again. His eyes softened and he looked so sincere when he said it… "I do love you, ma lykita . Forever."

Before I could even blink, he was out the door. I stood there in shock for several beats. Oh, God! I bolted for the door, threw it open and ran outside.

" Tristan! " I yelled.

He was already gone.

Some kids across the street stared at me while I just stood there, still in my PJs, looking frantically up and down the street. It was as if he'd disappeared.

I trudged back inside and cried for several hours. I didn't know what to believe anymore. Part of me wanted to run to him, to believe he loved me. Another part screamed in protest, reminding me I couldn't trust him, he'd only hurt me again. And a very small third part said to stop crying and get over him already. The other parts yelled at that one to shut the hell up because I didn't want to get over him. Even if it meant being miserable.

I remembered the box, brought it into my room before I opened it and found only a couple of things inside. There was my blouse I'd been wearing one night when we made dinner at his house and the sauce splattered all over it, so he gave me one of his t-shirts to wear. His scent permeated my blouse. I buried my face in it and inhaled deeply. Mmm…mangos and papayas, lime and sage, and a hint of man…. I remembered I still had his shirt somewhere. I searched in the bottom of my closet for it and put it to my face. Mmm… I pulled it over my tank top. The only other items were the framed poem I'd given him for Christmas, my engagement ring and a note.

My Dearest, Beloved Alexis,

I love you. Te amo. Je t'aime. Se ayapo. Ti amo.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I don't know how many times or how many ways I need to say it before you will believe me. I am sure you have lost all trust in me now and I understand. I hope you will understand one day it was not my place to tell you about the Amadis arrangement. All I could do was make it happen and that is what led me to fall completely, irreversibly, undeniably in love with you. You bring the very best out of me, especially the ability to love and allow myself to be loved. After all we have shared, I just don't know how else I can convince you that my love is irrefutably authentic. You are my soul mate.

I am returning the poem you wrote for me because I cannot keep it, knowing you do not feel that love for me anymore. I also want you to keep your ring. I designed it especially for you with the intent of you keeping it forever. Do with it what you want. It is yours and always will be—just like my heart.

I want to believe in you and me together forever, but if you do not come back to me, my forever is over. Without you, my world is bleak again. I beg that you will bring your light back into my life, but if not, I understand and will accept existing in darkness.

I love you more than any soul has ever loved another, my Lexi, ma lykita.

From the deepest, darkest corners of my heart,

ALL of my love,

Tristan

Tears streamed down my cheeks at the first line and I was bawling by the time I finished it. I read it over and over, tears staining it, causing the ink to run in places. I finally dropped it back into the box and held my blouse to my face as I curled up and sobbed.

Mom came in later, after darkness had consumed my room. She flipped the light on, blinding me.

"I thought this morning…" She stopped when I flicked my hand toward the box.

She sat on my bed and peered into it. She picked up the framed poem, read it and set it on my nightstand. I stared at it. I already had the poem memorized. I cried. She picked up my ring and the note and, after reading the note, she placed it in front of the poem and put my ring on top. I cried.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and quiet. "Alexis, I think you both want the same thing. Why don't you just…"

I interrupted her. "I just can't yet, Mom."

She stood up and picked up the now empty box. "Well, you're running out of time, honey."

"I know," I whispered.

I had another night of crying and restless sleep, my blouse and his shirt bunched around my face so I could smell him. By morning, though, I'd decided I'd cried enough. I told myself some fresh air and distraction was what I needed to clear my head and think things through. I went for a short walk on the beach. It wasn't a great idea; I felt so alone. So I went back home and escaped to my book, losing myself in an imaginary love story where everyone lives happily ever after.