Page 60 of Back to Me

Graham’s father stands off to the side, and when I look at him, his face is one filled with pity and regret. For whom? I don’t know. The man will always be an enigma of secrets, hidden behind a façade of believing he’s better than everyone around him.

Ignoring him and Graham, I cross my arms over my stomach, hoping it will keep me from throwing up all over the pavement and walk toward Em. My feet sting with each step I take, leaving Graham in the parking lot, below the spotlight overhead.

“Let’s go,” I mutter to Em as I continue walking past her, not wanting to stay here another minute.

I stop when I realize Em isn’t following me. Instead, she’s with Graham now. He’s leaning against his car, his head resting against his arm, looking at the ground, his head hanging low, his shoulders shaking. Calming him, Em places her hand on his back and leans into him. She says something to him, but I’m too far away to make out the words. Even though she keeps speaking, he continuously shakes his head, disagreeing with what she’s saying.

I can feel it, deep in the walls of my chest. My heart breaks, shatters, and disintegrates into a million tiny little pieces. I fight the urge to walk over to him, to feel the warmth of his body wrapped around mine. But I don’t give in. I hurt. He hurts. We both hurt for the wounds we’ve inflicted.

Six years of my life were spent in a constant battle of shrouding and veiling my true feelings and desires from Graham. It’s amazing how the ability to hide your emotions can come flooding back to you so easily.

Slowly, I build the wall around me, one brick at a time.

A few minutes pass before Em rests her head on Graham’s back, wrapping her arms around her brother. Guilt washes over me, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I feel guilty for asking Em to take me home when I didn’t even consider if she’d want to be there for Graham. He’s her brother, her best friend. Her family.

I’m an outsider. The one who suddenly no longer belongs.

A hand gently wraps around my arm, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” Looking up with my sad, tired eyes, Cam stands beside me with a smile.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The ride home in Cam’s rental car is excruciating. If the pain wasn’t already debilitating before, it certainly is now. I feel sick, and several times during the ride, I’m tempted to tell Cam to pull over so I could find some relief. Instead, I swallow back the sickness, the only comfort I feel is knowing I at least have Cam. A familiar face. A friend.

Once we’re in front of my building, Cam puts the car in park and turns toward me.

“Are you sure I can’t at least walk you up to your door?” he asks. “I’ll feel like an asshole if I don’t.”

I search his caring eyes, remembering how sweet Cam has always been. “Cam, how is it possible for you to be an asshole when you’ve asked me twenty times on the way here, and I’m the one who said you didn’t have to walk me up?” Mustering the largest grin I can, I laugh under my breath. It’s a weak attempt at best, but I do what I can.

“I know.” His concerned, sad puppy dog eyes stare at me. “I don’t know. I feel terrible dropping you off and leaving you, considering what happened literally less than an hour ago.”

“I’ll be fine,” I mutter, clearing my throat. “Well, eventually I will be. I think.” Remembering Graham and the way his beautiful blue eyes had begged me not to go, begged me to stay, sears itself into the forefront of my mind. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I bite my tongue, urging myself not to fall apart in front of Cam in his super small rental car.

Inhaling a deep sigh, I look at him, placing my hand on the door handle. “Thank you for the ride home. And I’m sorry tonight didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Nodding, he looks down into his lap. “I’m sorry, too. But for what it’s worth, your drawings were amazing.”

“Thanks.” My eyes water once again, and I’m about to step out of the car when Cam stops me.

Swallowing, he runs his finger along the steering wheel. “You’re a good person, Sara.”

Confused, I drop my hand to my lap and stare at him. He looks nervous as he continuously runs his finger along the steering wheel. I can remember seeing him do this before, back before he joined the Navy. I soon learned it’s a nervous tick, something he does when he wants to say something important. Then, he looks up, staring into my eyes.

“But so is Graham.”

At first, I don’t understand why Cam is telling me this. But the longer I stare into his eyes, it all comes back to me.

“I think I’ve heard something like that before,” I smirk. “Whoever said it must have been a very wise person.”

Laughing, Cam runs his fingers through his short, buzzed hair. “She was.” His laughter wears off quickly, and once again, we’re sitting in the utter silence.

Returning to his nervous tick, Cam shakes his head. “You know, it may have been a long time since you said those words to me, Sara, but I never forgot them. It’s silly to think about it now, I mean, it’s not like your words were poetic or anything.”

“Thanks?”

He raises his finger and rolls his eyes at me before returning them to the steering wheel.

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