Lover’s Leap
The sweet scent of spice and the melody of our song playing caught my attention. Maybe it was the power of his soul. Maybe. Now that I look back, I realize it was all three.
G o to our spot , Sweetness.
“ What? ” Startled out of my skin, I turned toward the familiar voice, dropping the cigarette on the flawless turquoise leather seat next to me.
“ Damn. ”
With a shaky hand, I reached for the brown - filtered tip, but missed and brushed the smoldering thing onto the floor. A brief glance in the rearview mirror and I eased onto the soft dirt shoulder and stopped. I threw the gearshift into neutral and frantically reached down to grab my ciggy before it burned a hole in the matching plush carpet.
Gran dad had kept this car immaculate and would have a coronary if he ever spotted a burn anywhere in the car. Cigarette retrieved, leaving only a small hint of a light brown blemish on the carpet, I turned to examine the backseat.
Too spooked to say anything above a whisper , my lips formed his name. “ Patrick? ”
Of course, no one answered.
Patrick, the love of my life, was dead.
Facing forward, I stubbed the cig arette out in the ashtray, placed both hands on the steering wheel and studied the empty backseat through the rearview mirror.
I clutched the gold heart pendant hanging from the chain around my neck, a gift from Patrick last Valentine's Day. I sighed, remembering his presentation. He had wrapped it in a hastily written note, promising t o have the heart engraved soon. He never got the chance.
“ Patrick, why did you leave me? I begged you not to go, but no, you had to “ prove yourself . ” The guys said you only missed Devil's C urve by a fraction of an inch. ”
With a strong urge to hold back the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks, I sucked b ack a sob. Our lives destroyed by a fraction of an inch. “ God, Patrick, I hate you for leaving me. ”
The old familiar Chicago tune , “ If You Leave Me Now ” ended. The devastating words no longer suffused through the car speakers and the radio fell silent for a few beats.
Don't hate me, Katie. I didn't want to leave you . Go to our spot. I'll be waiting for you. It was official. I was losing my mind.
This can't be real. “ You're only in my head. ” With my fingertip, I swiped at the one escaping tear settling on my cheek. “ This is crazy. ”
It's okay. I promise.
I put the car into first and eased my way back onto Ventura Boulevard, turning right on Coy Drive . I headed south toward Mulholland ; my friends at the beach would have to wait.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the turnout and shut off the engine. This was our spot, Lover's Peak, along the h igh cliffs of Mulholland Drive. Of course, it was also known as Lover's Leap because of rumors of scorned lovers jumping to their deaths.
We spent most Saturday nights up here, sitting in Patrick's 1957 Thunderbird with the top down, taking in the stars and the city lights twinkling throughout the valley below. Simply gazing and dreaming, along with a few unmentionable other things. I opened the car door, stepped onto the gravel and walked toward the edge of the cliff. Birds chirped while I took in the view of the valley with , of course, no sign of Patrick. Score one for my imagination. I should have gone to the beach.
“ Damn you, Patrick. I miss you so much. ”
I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and took a deep breath.
“ God, Patrick. Sometimes I can still smell your spicy cologne. How am I supposed to move on? How will I ever stop loving you? ”
I sighed and I walked back to my car. On the seat lay the gold heart pendant ne cklace. I fingered my bare neck - the clasp must have broken. T hen a chill ran down my spine and I glanced around the area , half expecting to see Patrick. Trees swayed lazily in the gentle Santa Ana breeze and a few leaves scurried over the gravel parking area. Two doves cooed back and forth in a delicate melodic
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