40
Alana
Going back to the beach with Ian brings back so many memories.Some of themare good, and some are bad. Some make me cringe remembering how I acted, but when I stop and think, as he pulls into the parking lot, I wonder why I ever believed the bad meant that we couldn’t work things out. After all, any life isn’t made up of just good, all of the time. There’s always bad mixed in there too, and even if my bad is crazier than a lot of people’s, it’s still mine. A part of me, and Ian loves me. He wants to build a life with me.
I’ve never believed that so sincerely until now. With all my heart, I believe that Ian loves me entirely, even the parts I never thought were lovable.
It makes me want to do anything and everything I need to, even cooperating with Megan and Veronica, to make sure I don’t lose this feeling again.
Ian comes around to open my door, helping me out. The wind ruffles his blond hair, his camera hung around his neck on the thick strap and resting against his black t-shirt. He looks so effortlessly happy and at ease in this moment that I wishIhad a camera and the skill to capture the way he looks right this second.
He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk down the steps to the sand, the wind picking up and blowing my hair around my face. It’s late afternoon on a weekday; the beach is basically empty, the atmosphere peaceful. Ian squeezes my hand as I kick off my shoes just before we hit the sand, and then as I start to walk through it, kicking it a little as I go, I feel him let go of my hand and hear the click of the camera.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing as I turn to look at him over my shoulder, pushing my hair out of my face as he keeps clicking.
“Did you think we were going to come out here, and Iwouldn’ttake pictures of you?”
“I thought maybe you’d let me pose first this time,” I say teasingly, even though I already knew better. Ian loves nothing more than capturing a subject in motion, and I know that from the time we spent together before—before all of this.
“Never. Well, you can pose a little. Later. I have some specific ones in mind.” Ian winks lewdly at me, and I laugh aloud, my black sundress ruffling around my thighs as I turn towards him, throwing my hands above my head playfully.
I can’t remember ever feeling such overwhelming joy before. Even with everything so up in the air, the worry over the baby’s parentage hanging over our heads, our future in question, I feel the anxiety and fear of earlier slipping away because I’m sharing this moment with Ian. Coming back here feels like coming full circle, like replacing the rocky start of our past with the hope for our future. I feel the sun shining down, hear the sound of the birds overhead, and as Ian keeps clicking away, I start to laugh.
When he puts the camera down, I can see that he’s grinning too. He reaches for me, pulling me across the sand into his arms, and I tilt my chin up, leaning into him for a kiss. His lips are cool compared to the warm air, pressing softly against mine. As my nostrils fill with the scent of salt and the warmth of his skin, my eyes closing as his tongue runs gently along the seam of my mouth, I feel my eyes fill with tears.
“I love you,” I whisper, my hands lacing behind his neck, and he deepens the kiss.
“I love you too,” he says as he pulls away.
We walk down the beach then, hand in hand, not talking. It feels good to be silent,notto talk about the possibilities of what’s to come, good or bad. I want to just soak this up, every second with him, without thinking about how many are left. I want to be present in my own life in a way I’ve never beenentirelyable to be before.
Right now,Iexist. There are times when I don’t, not really, like when someone else is running the body I inhabit. There are not many people who could empathize with that. But for right now, it’s just Ian and me, and I want to enjoy it without fear. Without wondering when it’ll be snatched away.
As the sun sinks into the golden hour, the wind in my hair, the seagulls cawing overhead, and the sound of rushing water in my ears, Ian backs away from me again, leaving me standing there as the tide comes in around my ankles. I cradle my belly, the sun setting behind me in flares of yellow, orange, and pink. He takes photo after photo, letting me pose this time, and when he’s done, we back away from the damp sand and sit where it’s still dry, side by side as his hand finds mine again.
“We’ll have to move into a bigger place,” Ian says, looking out over the water. “My apartment doesn’t exactly have room for a baby.” He tilts his head against mine. “We’ll pick it out together. This will be the first time doing that.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that we don’t even know if we’ll need that yet or not, but I push the words down. Now isn’t the time. Ian knows the possibilities as well as I do, but he’s choosing not to focus on them. To paint a future for us as beautiful as the bright and colorful brushstrokes in the sky above us, and at that moment, I choose to let myself believe it.
Whether or not it comes to pass, that future is ours.
That afternoon, the evening consisted of Chinese takeout back at the apartment, and our favorite funny movies was one of the best days of my life despite the appointment it started out with. I even told Helen about it in my next therapy session, telling her how Ian seemed to know just what to do to distract me and take my mind off the fear and anxiety churning in my stomach.
I haven’t looked at the photos yet. He showed me just one, and in it, I saw a version of me that looked happier than I’ve ever seen myself. Freer. I looked like I’d found my home.
I’ve soaked up every second that I can with him, afraid that they might be numbered, hoping against hope that they’re not. I’ve only gone back to Cal and Lauren’s for fresh clothes and to give Ian a little space, so he’s not overwhelmed by having me there all the time again, but I wind up back at his apartment sooner than not. It’s been so easy to fall back into the rhythm of our old life together that it’s almost frightening. But that, like everything else, just proves to me that we’re meant to be. That I made a mistake by ever leaving at all—one that I don’t plan to replicate.
Not to mention, the sex is fucking incredible. It’s like we can read each other’s minds in bed. I’d always thought passionate, good sex would be impossible while this pregnant—or pregnant at all, really—Ian and I have provedthatwrong every single day. If anything, I feel more sensitive and responsive than ever. That, and being away from him for so long, has made every second feel like something I want to memorize and cherish.
I just hope that nothing goes wrong tomorrow.
“How is open communication among the three of you going?” Helen asks, looking at me keenly. “Especially after you spent time with Ian?”
I knot my hands together in my lap, thinking. “I hear Veronica’s voice a lot more than I hear Megan’s,” I say slowly. “And I think she’s more vocal because she’s still beyond annoyed that Megan’s still blaming herself for what Kameron did.”
“And you feel that it’s not her fault?” Helen’s voice is soft and neutral, tugging my feelings out of me like we’re connected by a thread, urging me to be honest with myself and her.
“Of course, it’s not her fault!” I burst out. “But I don’t understand either; why she’d still want to be near him after what he did, kidnapping her—us—like that. It’s like she has—has fucking Stockholm syndrome or whatever.”