M A D I E

November Tenth

four

"All the tearing emotion of the last few hours

seemed to fall away from her

like a somber, uncomfortable garment,

which she had but to loosen to be rid of."

-The Awakening, Kate Chopin

—

The chilly wind slapped against my cheeks, and it was more than just a breath of fresh air. It blasted me awake.

Those tangling gusts were always the coldest when the highway curved out toward the coastline. The first time the convertible pulled up alongside the blue expanse, I rested my head on the car door and watched it speed by. My hair whipped around like crazy, and I knew it would look far more ridiculous than Bren's by the time we made it to LA.

My cheeks hurt, either from my broad smile or the wind, but I'd welcome this kind of ache any day. I'd lived in California my whole life, but my hometown of South Lake Tahoe was as far inland as you could get in this state. And I'd never ridden in a convertible before.

Taking my eyes off the ocean and the little white crests that lined it, I peeked back at Bren. He faced forward, eyes presumably on the road. Though it was hard to tell for sure with his sunglasses on.

It gave me a minute to study Bren's handsome profile. Finally, I was able to admire it without feeling guilty. He wore his usual black hoodie and a contented little smile. Bren honestly didn't smile enough, and it was nice to see. One hand was tossed casually on the top of the steering wheel, and I'd never seen him look so relaxed.

The minute we drove out of Oakland, everything seemed to change for him. I supposed the feeling was mutual.

His head shifted slightly, and I could tell he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. Or maybe he was looking at the ocean; I'm not sure. But his grin grew wider before turning back toward the road.

After that, Bren would occasionally exit from the inland highway to drive through coastal towns, and I'd stare out at the ocean every time. I particularly liked Monterey. The sea would swirl against the large jutting rocks, shooting upward in enormous splashes. The wildness of the rugged coastline called to me more than serene sandy beaches.

When we left Monterey, we drove over this bridge that stretched between two cliffs, and I swore the only thing above and below us was just blue—the untamed, deep ocean and the gentle white-blue sky. And in the middle of all that was us.

Me and him.

I hadn't thought I would ever feel this way again. It was that feeling within my heart that had propelled me toward Quinton's room that morning—that feeling of walking toward freedom. I thought it had slipped through my fingers after he'd bashed my head into a wall, making me realize that he'd never let me go even if we were apart. Because every time my head ached, pounded, twinged in pain, Quinton was there. Holding on.

But this? This was everything. I knew it wouldn't last forever. But at this moment, it was a sliver realness, of what it actually meant to live.

I threw my hands in the air lazily and propped my feet on the dash. The wind pushed and pulled at my palms, and I tilted my head back, letting the sun soak my skin.

I did that for hours, and it was perfect.

When the sun began to set, Bren pulled into Pismo Beach. We grabbed burgers to-go from The Splash Cafe and then walked to an old wooden pier that jutted out into the rolling waves. After some searching, we found a bench that wasn't covered in bird shit.

"How do you feel?" Bren asked after swallowing a bite of his burger. He'd taken his sunglasses off, and his brown eyes studied me.

I gave him a little smile before looking back at the ocean. The pinkish hues of the sun reflected against the surface of it. "How often are you going to ask me that?"

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. "Every day."

Exasperated, I turned back toward him. "Bren—"

"Nessa texted me every day, you know. Because I needed her to tell me you were okay. So now I need you to tell me that you're okay." He took another bite of his burger, not glancing in my direction after what he'd said.

It hurt that he'd talked to Nessa but hadn't bothered to contact me. Despite what he said earlier, it still felt like he'd run away from me—just me. "Why didn't you just call me, Bren? Text?"

His jaw clenched for a moment. "Because I thought you'd be better without me."

A frown slipped onto my face. "I don't know why you would think that after everything you've done for me."

He finally turned to face me. "But, Madie—"

"No buts, Bren," I interrupted, my voice soft.

Bren shook his head and continued eating. It was silent for a few minutes until he eventually let out a big sigh. Crumpling up the wrapper from his burger, he tossed it into the garbage can sitting a few feet away. Then Bren scooted closer to me on the bench, throwing his arm across the back of it. I felt the material of his sweatshirt brush the back of my neck.

The two of us stayed that way while I finished my burger. And then we stayed like that after I finished my burger, too.

We watched the sun set low, eventually disappearing into the water. Bren's arm slid down, so it rested over my shoulders, and then his hand wrapped around my upper arm, though his grip was light. Without thinking, I nestled into him, wanting his warmth and comfort. Fatigue suddenly threatened to overwhelm me.

I felt him turn, his nose brushing against the top of my hair. There was the faintest of touches pressed against my head, and I wondered if it was a kiss. "Are you ready to go?" Bren murmured into my tangled strands even though I felt confident that neither of us wanted to leave this spot.

I nodded but didn't move.

"We'll put the top up on the car, and you can sleep the rest of the way," Bren added.

That honestly sounded heavenly. I'd spent most of the last two weeks lying in a hospital bed, and the events of today had drained me. I hadn't realized how tired I was until this moment when I was sated from the sun and greasy food and Bren's arm around me.

He stood and took my hand, leading me back to the car. It was almost a drunken feeling that had come over me. Everything felt a little hazy and unreal as this boy walked me through a sleepy beach town, lights twinkling around us from the emerging stars and the tiny restaurants and the houses up upon the hills.

The rest of the car ride was a blur—literally. As we got closer to Los Angeles, more lights surrounded the car in a whirling kaleidoscope. I snuggled into the seat, sometimes watching it all go by and sometimes closing my eyes to listen to Bren's soft music.

"I think today was a little much for you," I heard Bren's voice say at some point. "Let's get you to bed."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered his words and realized that we must be there. The car was stopped. The music was off. We were here.

I didn't see much of the beach house as we walked inside. My brain was kind of muddled, and we didn't bother with lighting up the home to look around. It was shadowy, and our footsteps echoed in the airy, modern space. I followed Bren up hard, stony stairs. He began muttering to himself about Beau while he peeked into different rooms on the second floor.

"Well, shit," he exclaimed.

"What?" I asked, waking up a little bit at his tone.

Bren didn't say anything. He simply flung open the double doors to a room to our right and stepped inside.

Stopping after a few feet, he turned and looked at me. "Come here."

I walked into the room, and the only thing I saw was the massive, dark blanket of ocean. Huge windows lined the bedroom wall. I could hear the waves through them even though they were closed. A king-sized bed with fluffy, white bedding took up most of the wall to my right; I longed to sink into it. The other end of the room had a little sitting room with a flat-screen and a couch.

Bren plopped my bag down on the bed. "Wow," he said. "Holy shit, Beau."

It was impressive. Amazing. But all I wanted was that bed. "I call dibs on this one." I collapsed onto it.

He laughed. "That's why I put your things here, anyway."

I kicked off my shoes and unzipped my jacket before lying back, ready to fall back asleep right then. I had no idea what time it was, but I didn't care.

Bren looked at me, and his expression was tender. "I know you're tired. Is there anything else you need?"

I shook my head, kneading it further into the pillow, and Bren nodded. He rocked back on his heels, hesitating for a moment. Then he spun around and headed for the door.

"Bren?"

He paused, and I looked around at the shadows in this huge, foreign space. "Where are you sleeping?"

"Just the next room over," he said.

I bit my lip, debating. My internal dialogue was tired, though. And something inside possessed me to blurt, "Could you maybe sleep in here with me?"

If I hadn't been watching him so closely, I would have missed the way his eyes widened. He looked around the room. "I could sleep on the couch."

"The bed is big. Really big."

I'd whispered the words, and a small smile popped onto Bren's face before he ducked his head.

"Let me go change." He turned, leaving me alone while he got ready for bed. I stood back up, suddenly anxious as I threw on some sweatpants and an oversized tee. I found the ensuite bathroom—all marbled and chic—and wiped away the car ride.

But just those few minutes by myself were enough to make me glad that I'd asked Bren to stay. There were still too many things hidden in the darkness. I collapsed into bed and was nearly asleep by the time he returned. I felt the mattress dip beneath his weight.

"I'm here, Madie."

I sighed. I could sleep now.

"Goodnight, Bren."

Maybe he really wasn't going to run away from me after all.

—

November Tenth

Four

So terribly tired,

So deep in slumber,

And so wonderfully awake.

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