Page 68 of Every Thought Taken

I wanted to want someone else. Wanted to let go of the past. But no guy or distraction had been enough. I gained some great guy friends, but it never evolved past friendship or an awkward, regrettable date.

The summer between junior and senior year of college, I hoped to see Anderson when I came home. Like the previous summers, he’d disappeared. When I asked Lessa about his graduation, she said he opted out of the ceremony, earned his diploma early, and hasn’t been seen since.

He left. Lake Lavender, his family, me. And no one knew where he was.

But the way Lessa talked to him on the phone at dinner, the ease and lightheartedness of her words, she had to have been in contact on a regular basis. That stung. A lot.

Now, he’s back and he wants to talk.

Anderson

Whatever evening works best for you. I have no plans.

Friday is typically dinner with Lessa, Mags, and the guys, but sometimes we swap Friday for Saturday. Much as I’d love a reunion with everyone present, I want time alone with him more. I want to ask questions without hesitation or interruptions. If others join, I’ll lose courage or hold back.

Helena

Saturday? Maybe 6? You choose where.

Anderson

Saturday at 6 is perfect. I’ll figure out where and let you know.

Weirdly, I want to thumbs up the message, but I resist.

Helena

See you Saturday.

The gray bubble dances on the screen and I nibble on my bottom lip as I wait for his next message. The bubble disappears, reappears, then vanishes again. I picture him typing and deleting like I did before I sent the first message. Minutes pass before my phone vibrates in my hand and his message fills the screen.

Anderson

Was great seeing you today. Missed you, North.

The backs of my eyes sting as my vision blurs. A tear splatters the screen as memories flood in. “Missed you too, Ander. So much.”

CHAPTER39

ANDERSON

Lost in my thoughts, I stroll Main Street and take in the improvements since I left. A lot has changed in the nearly six years I was gone, yet so much remains the same. Updated lampposts with colorful dangling potted flowers. Fresh, vibrant paint on store signs. Tall, robust evergreens shade much of the sidewalk and street parking. Lavender-colored metal benches outside the bakery, ice cream shop, and other food establishments.

The face of the town had a fresh appearance, but many of the townsfolk were very much the same.

Years and distance from Lake Lavender had been good for me. The initial pain I had upon leaving morphed into a dull ache over time. A muted throb beneath my sternum. Then one day, that pain split in two—one part for Helena and the other for my parents. Though I’d been hurt by them all, I’d never heal by lumping them in the same category.

The scars from Helena are not the same as the scars from my parents. But all of them are the result of heartbreak.

Memories rush in as I pass the town diner, a place Helena and I went countless times—just the two of us or with Ales and Mags. I peer through the window and watch the hustle and bustle of servers, bussers, and the elderly owners. My gaze shifts to a booth in the far corner, a family filling the benches, burgers and fries and sodas crowding the table. Once upon a time, that was our booth. The one we sat at if it was open. Not just me and Helena, but anyone in our group.

Seeing other people in a place we once labeled ours is odd, yet refreshing.

After Helena left for Washington State and I broke, life changed in so many ways.

Weeks in the hospital had been the beginning. The therapist I’d been seeing was fired and replaced with another. Mom and Dad policed my every move in fear of what I might do. The door to my bedroom had been removed, the hinge pins hidden away. I literally couldn’t make a move, take a breath, eat or drink something without Mom or Dad knowing.

Them smothering me slowly chipped away my soul more. So I focused my energy elsewhere. I busted my ass in school and ignored everyone. When summer break came each year, I spent my days with Dad until I got a job. It wasn’t ideal sitting in his truck or watching him work all day, but it was better than triggering what finally tipped the boat and took me down the darkest possible path.

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