Page 92 of Was I Ever Here

She’s perfect.

And for now, I’ll cross these burning coals with her, I’ll give her the strength to fight her own demons, and protect her when she asks it of me. I want to be right beside her when she rises from the ashes and into her own power. Into the magic of who she is behind the walls, behind the fear and doubt. Because I see her. And she’s fucking mesmerizing.

Hopefully one day she sees what I see.

Hopefully one day she burns as bright as the fucking sun. And I’ll turn into Icarus if only to have a taste of her fire before I burn and burn and burn.

Chapter 53

Sunny

“Sowhereareweheading?” I ask Byzantine, a few minutes after he’s picked me up.

The adorable lopsided smile he gives me while changing gears, tells me that I probably won’t know until we get to our destination. He’s lucky that today I don’t care, happy to just be here with him, feeling closer to him—if that’s even possible—since what happened last week.

That night scared me.

I could have really hurt myself and it’s frightening to think how little control I had over my actions. It left me weary, and also questioning if maybe I should stop drinking—or at the very least cut back considerably—until I get my mental health in check. I don’t want those types of spirals to ever happen again if I can avoid it.

The following morning, wrapped inside Byzantine’s strong arms in bed, I was able to give voice to some of the reasons behind what triggered me into plummeting into such a dark space.

One being River, the other my mother.

But it was still hard to explain out loud, when these feelings were so visceral and almost illogical when it came to describing them. He asked me a few questions but didn’t pry, simply taking what I was able to offer and I was grateful for it.

When he finally parks the car, I notice that we’re just a few minutes walk away from the public beach I always frequent. The terrain is rockier here than the designated swimming area and I look over to Byzantine with a curious look on my face, but he just smiles warmly.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” he says casually.

My eyebrows shoot up. “The last time you told me that, the cliff happened,” I tease.

“Nothing like that,” he says chuckling while climbing out of the car and I wait eagerly until he opens the passenger door.

“Is it a surprise?” I ask, taking his offered hand as he pulls me out of the car.

“Of some sort.”

“Classic Byzantine,” I huff, “always so allergic to answering questions directly.”

He laughs but says nothing more, leading me to a narrow trail slanting up a small hill that eventually turns into a small grassy plain near the ocean. It doesn’t seem to be a popular spot to visit according to the wild foliage around, and the lack of place to sit or lay down. I peer around, wondering why he’s brought me all the way up here. Until he stops in front of a flat rock and simply points at it.

“What is it?” I say, still not understanding what he’s showing me.

“I thought you’d want a place to visit,” he adds, looking almost uncomfortable like he doesn’t know how to say what he’s trying to tell me.

Intrigued, I lean closer to the rock, curious as to what he’s referring to. Until I see it.

In memoryiscarved into the rock and beneath it are two whale engravings. It looks fresh like the markings have been done recently and my breath catches in my throat when I realize what Byzantine was implying—he’s made me a memorial.

“It’s not much—” he begins to say, but I cut him off.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, squeezing his hand before kneeling closer to the flat rock, my fingers softly tracing the grooves, my vision blurring with all the emotions this moment is making bubble up to the surface.

Byzantine stands stoically behind me while I close my eyes, the warm ocean breeze playing with my hair as I let the tears fall. The grief, a never-ending well I keep digging deeper into. But today, I somehow know it will eventually wane, I’ll learn to live with it without it consuming me. The thought gives me a small sense of peace while I stand back up, wipe the wetness from my cheeks and smile up at Byzantine.

My heart is so full I find it hard to understand how this person even exists, how he canseeme in such vivid detail that he can read my needs before I even understand them myself. And it’s in these quiet moments that my soul sings, and it becomes that much easier to believe we’ve spent lifetimes like this.

But this time, we’re figuring it out.

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