Ren

AUGUST 1998

The following months, as my senior year drew to a close, were rough. Gio and I were still together, but our relationship was strained. Well, more like weak and dying, on life support really, a shadow of what it was—going through the motions, not wanting to, or not knowing how to end it—letting it slowly die in our arms. Like putting your favorite pet to sleep.

I was headed to NY in a few days.

It was late Sunday afternoon, and I was driving back towards my dad's house from spending the weekend at my mom's. I hadn't really spoken to Gio all weekend, but I had a feeling I knew where he was. He'd taken up surfing more often, especially in the evenings after work.

I needed to see him. We only had a few days left. I kept driving with the sun in my eyes, winding west through the golden headlands and out to the coast.

I had to check a few beaches, looking out for his car. I finally found it at Doran Beach. I pulled up beside it. I crested the dune from the parking lot and looked down onto the wide beach.

The sun was aiming to go down soon, sending glittering rays of sunlight over the water. I saw one black dot out in the water and two more on a log, surfboards in the sand. I slid down the dune on my butt, dusted off my cut-off jean shorts and black hoodie, and made my way toward them.

I found Eddie and Charlie on the log, half-stripped out of their wetsuits, drying off and smoking a joint.

"Heeey, Girly," Eddie drawled, combing the wet brown curls of his hair. "Looking for G?"

"Who else?" I shrugged.

"She's looking for me, dude," Charlie grinned, his playful brown eyes twinkling over his freckled, upturned nose, blowing out the smoke from the joint and passing it back to Eddie.

"Of course, Charlie," I smiled, rolling my eyes. "You are my secret informer now."

That had been a little inside joke between us lately. Charlie used to have the biggest crush on me, but we had become good friends since Gio and I got together, and lately, we'd been talking even more to gain insight into where Gio was or what he felt since he had started pulling away. It never stopped Charlie from flirting a little, but Gio and I were used to it by now.

"You know it," he said, scooting over on the log to make room for me.

"I'm gonna head," Eddie said, holding in his toke and passing the joint back to Charlie. "Later, guys," he said on his exhale. He grabbed his board and headed back over the hill.

"Gio, coming back in soon?" I asked Charlie.

"Hard to tell," he said, taking a last puff and snuffing it out on the log. "He's been staying out there a long time recently. It's been therapeutic for him. Helps him stay in the moment, yanoe."

"Yeah..."

"He's been having a pretty rough week. Not sleeping much."

"I kinda felt that," I murmured.

"Yeah, I know, you know. Still not having second thoughts?"

"No, I mean, yeah." I heaved a big sigh. "But it's all arranged. I gotta try it out." I paused, "Charlie?"

Yeah,"

"Will he be okay?" I said, tears starting to form in my eyes.

"I hope so," Charlie said, giving me a commiserate one-armed hug. We sat there for a minute in silence, watching the black dot that was Gio out on the waves.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out too. I don't think he'll come back any time soon if we're both here." Charlie stood up, scrubbing at his sandy blond hair till it stood out in all directions. "Hey, I probably won't see you again before you leave. Hope you have a great time out there." He gave me a big, affectionate hug this time.

"Thanks," I said melancholily, still in his arms.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling back.

"You'll look out for him, right? Make sure..." I couldn't finish; the rest of the sentence was stuck in my throat.

"Of course, I'll make sure." Charlie knew what I meant. "I'll be there for him."

We hugged again, and then he left.

I sat back down on the log, and I watched Gio surf. Mainly, he just bobbed way out in the distance, every so often catching a wave that would bring him closer to me for a minute, then he'd paddle back out.

With only five minutes till sunset, Gio finally came out of the water. Dripping and exhausted.

He pulled the cord down on his suit and pulled his arms out, letting it hang wet and black from his waist, his upper body exposed, and beads of water glittering golden on his sun-kissed bronze skin.

He looked like a defeated Greek god walking toward me - backlit by the orange ball now dissolving into the ocean.

I ached to run to and hug him until I was soaked, too, but I sat there, guilt weighing me down.

His head was lowered, but we briefly exchanged a small glance before he sat down next to me on the log.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, not looking at me.

We sat there in silence, watching the rippled sun sink lower under the waves. He found the end of the joint Charlie had left on the log, dug a lighter out of his bag, and lit it.

"You smoking again?"

"Yeah," he said after holding it in and then blowing out the smoke.

I kept silent, but he could feel me judging him.

"What?" he shot a look at me. "You'll be gone in a few days, and then it won't matter what I do."

"It does matter. I do care what happens to you!" I spat, letting the rising anger over what he said suppress my sadness.

"Yeah? If you cared about me, you wouldn't be leaving!" he muttered angrily.

"Gio, we've gone over this a million times."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ren. Well, I obviously still don't get it."

"Why can't we just try to make it work? I'll wait for you."

"You're not waiting for me for four years!"

"I could," I said, clinging to irrational hope.

"Yeah? Call me in four years. But I'll probably have a new girlfriend by then," he said bitterly, folding his arms across his chest and looking out to the crashing ocean.

The tide was coming in, and the wind was picking up.

"Gio—" my voice cracked.

"Be real, Ren," he said indignantly. "You're going to New York, and you're going to have a great time. Remember how you felt when Sydney left to go to college!"

I did remember that... he was right. It sucked.

"Sure, we could call each other on the phone and try to make it work for a while, but while you're off partying and meeting new people, I'm here doing the same old same old in high school."

"You're worried you'll be jealous," I stated bitterly back to him.

"I know I will be! Guys will be calling to date you left, right, and center, and I won't be there! We'd call each other less and less. We'd last six months tops! You'll find someone else, and I'll just get hurt."

"Gio. I'm not going to cheat on you!"

"I'm not necessarily worried you'll cheat." He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. "Like, just the distance, wearing us down and making you forget. I can't kiss you over the phone or have sex with you. Once you leave, I'm going to go crazy!"

"This is about your sex drive?!"

"No, of course not! Fuck! But it's part of it. I'll miss you too much."

"I'm already missing you! You're never around me anymore. I'm missing you now so much it hurts!" My voice cracked, and the dam of my feelings burst. The anger was swept away, and all my tears flooded out.

He wrapped his bare arms around me and pulled me into him. My hot tears fell like raindrops on his bare chest. And he put his face in my hair.

"Me too." His voice came out stiff and tight in a whisper. And even though I couldn't see or hear him, I felt him crying with me, too. Then, the quietest muffled sob came out, followed by one from me. His body quaked slightly, and the golden sky faded from orange to purple to inky blue—just clinging to each other in the twilight.

I don't know how long we held each other for, the minutes seemed to pass like hours. But, finally, he was shivering too much in the night air, and we had to get him back to his car and his dry clothes. I stayed, leaning against my car, and watched him towel off and change. I wanted to keep him with me so bad it hurt, feeling like I was cut from my throat to my stomach, and it burned.

We hadn't discussed what would happen now. We hadn't spent a night together in almost two weeks. He kept pushing me off, making plans with his guy friends. He kept saying he needed space, but I needed him tonight. I didn't know if I'd get another chance.

I came up to him, standing there behind his car, pulling his body to mine, and wrapping my arms around him.

"Gio, can I spend the night with you?" I tried to swallow down the large, pointed rock lodged in my throat. "One last time?"

He winced at that—like I swiftly pierced his heart with a silent arrow.

In a way, what I had said—

—was ending it.

I had finally verbalized the end of our relationship. Tonight was it.

"Okay, he breathed. "One last time."

♥︎♥︎♥︎

I followed him in his car to his mom's house in Bayfield. I parked behind him on the side of the rural road and walked behind him, over the wooden plank across the ditch and through the wooden gate into the backyard. Then across the patio to the little grey cedar shingled guest house he lived in.

His room which he had always kept pretty tidy, was in a state of disarray, and he kicked some of his dirty laundry lying in his way across the floor into the corner. I came in and shut the door, but his room was hot, having baked in the August sun all day, so I opened a window and pulled my sweatshirt over my head, tying it around my waist.

We didn't speak. He flicked on his little bedside light, came over, and stopped just a foot before me. We just stood there in front of each other for a moment, our eyes locked, our breathing picking up as the energy became thick, pulsating between us.

I wanted him so badly but felt immobile to start it. I was overwhelmed, knowing the intensity of this moment, and I think he felt the same way.

"Kiss me, Gio." I finally eked out.

That was what he needed, I guess. He pulled me to him and kissed me, his mouth on mine, telling me how much he loved me without words.

Reflexively I opened my mouth to his and told him back with my tongue. I wrapped my arms under his and pulled his chest to mine so hard I was hoping our hearts would somehow fuse together.

He had his hand in my hair, pulling my mouth hard against his. Then he released me to kiss my face and my jaw, and my neck. He was getting desperate. He yanked his shirt over his head and practically ripped my tank top off me. I unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans. We were hardly thinking anymore, just acting on instinct, desire, and need to be one instead of two.

We fell to his mattress on the floor, undressing each other, removing all the barriers, the anger, and the hurt, and leaving both of us naked and vulnerable.

We made love hard and long and late into the night. Love that was raw and beautiful. And when we had expended all of our energy and emotion, we fell, arms around each other, into a peaceful deep sleep.

In the morning, I woke to him still holding me, skin to skin.

I don't want to wake up, I don't want it to end! I squeezed my eyes shut to the truth of the morning.

When I opened my lids again, it was to the brightness of mid-morning. I flashed my eyes to the clock: 10:10 am—way past time for him to wake up. I wondered if he was feeling the same way... avoiding this imminent moment ahead.

I knew as soon as we both acknowledged we were awake, it would go back to the awful awkwardness and the heartache, and we'd finally say goodbye.

10:40 am. It was going to have to be me.

"Gio."

"Mmm," was his muffled reply. I turned to face him in the bed, but he flipped and turned away from me.

"Gio, I guess I should probably..."

I didn't want to say go because I still didn't want to break up.

"You want to spend the day together?" I ask hesitantly.

"No,"

"So that's it then?"

Silence.

I got up and got dressed. He just laid there, still naked, under the thin sheet.

"Gio, will you get up and walk me out?"

Silence.

"Gio! Come on, please get up!"

He swung his feet over the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. He got up and yanked on his pants, not bothering with boxers or a shirt. He went over to his door, and after turning the knob, he stood there, holding it open.

"Okay, go," he told me, not making eye contact.

"Come on, not like that," I pleaded.

"Just go."

He was hurting me on purpose.

"Don't don't end it like this."

I came over, put my hands on his chest, and kissed him, but he didn't kiss me back. He just closed his eyes and let me kiss him. I kissed his cheeks and his jaw and his neck, hoping to melt his icy exterior, but it wasn't working. He stopped me, physically pushing me back.

"Ren, stop. I can't."

"Gio, please," I begged. I was really losing him. He was slipping through my fingers quickly now.

He shook his head. "I can't draw this out any longer."

"I can't break up with you!" I exclaimed. "I love you too much!"

"Then I'll do it," he said with a strange and staccato voice. "It's over, Ren. I don't want to see you again after this." Tears crested his eyes. "You have to go—right now." And he pushed me gently through the door.

My vision blurred, my stomach dropped out, and I started bawling like a small child. "Just, just—" I said desperately through choked sobs, "—just tell me you love me... one more time! Then, then, then I'll go," I sobbed again.

He pressed his lips together so tightly to try to keep himself together, but when my bloodshot eyes met his, his face cracked into a million raw and ugly and beautiful fragments of emotion, and with the weakest voice, he said—

"I love you."

Then he closed the door, turning the lock with a click. And that was the last time I spoke to him for eleven years.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

https://youtu.be/Tx1T5FZtKxI

••• A/N •••

Thank you so much for reading!

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Well, that's it. That's how it ended. What did you all think?

I was in literal tears after I wrote this. I've never been so cut up after something I wrote.