Ivy was lying on the hammock out on the
balcony of Cullen’s Cape home, as the sky grew dark. Stars glimmered bright in the sky and
the wind off the harbor was brisk and chilling.
But in a strange way, she liked the cold
cutting through her clothes, making her shiver, making her eyes tear.
She needed the discomfort, the pain.
You
like the pain.
That’s
why you were drawn to Cullen Sharpe in the first place.
This was different, though. Cullen and his father had left her alone
at the house, and the only communication from him had been a note on the
counter and those fateful words…
DON’T
TRY AND FIND ME
Ivy hugged herself as she rocked slowly
back and forth in the hammock. Why
was she still there, hanging around when everyone had gone?
She wasn’t sure. There was just a feeling deep inside, in
the pit of her stomach. It was
telling her to stay put and wait.
Unlike before, Ivy couldn’t shake the
feeling that Cullen was going to return to her.
He’s
coming back. He’ll be here
soon. Don’t give up on him.
So there she stayed, shivering in the
descending darkness. Night fell and
she could no longer make out the ocean. All that was visible was the beam from the lighthouse across the way.
It would’ve been romantic, Ivy thought,
to lie out here in this hammock with Cullen’s body warming her, holding her
close. They could have looked at
the light emanating from the lighthouse across the harbor, and snuggled, and
whispered sweet nothings.
Except that wasn’t what was going on.
There was just the sound of the ocean and
the darkness, and that one beam of light flashing off the water from the
lighthouse across the harbor.
Finally, she grew too cold to stand it,
and she got off the hammock and retreated back inside the house.
It was beautiful but empty without Cullen
to give the place life.
She wondered where he and his father had
gone together. With all the money
at their disposal, they could be en route to Bolivia or Russia or China by now.
Yet, as Ivy cooked herself the bacon that
she’d purchased earlier at the small market nearby, she realized that there was
no panic at the thought of Cullen’s whereabouts.
Maybe
I’m just in shock.
Maybe
I’m in denial.
She waited for the pain of losing him to
set in, but she didn’t feel it.
That’s
because he’s not gone. He’s coming
back.
Ivy smiled as she sat down at the counter,
crunching on the bacon strips and staring out the windows at the inky
darkness.
She felt his presence as if he was with her.
It didn’t make sense, but then again, she
didn’t need it to. She was just
glad to feel at peace.
Once she was finished eating, Ivy grabbed
a well-used afghan and curled up on the couch. She didn’t bother turning on the
television.
The house was silent but for the various
noises that came out of an old house set on the water: wind rattling windows,
surf pounding the shore, the creaks of settling wood.
Somehow, it was comforting.
Maybe it was just the smell of the
blanket, the couch—knowing that he had been here and it was as if he’d never really left at all.
When she woke up early the next morning,
Ivy felt stiff and a little anxious. She couldn’t say why, exactly.
Maybe the numbness was wearing off after
all.
Ivy got off the couch and rubbed her sore
neck. She checked her cell
phone. There was a text from her
mother but no one else.
Are you okay? Please let me know, Ivy.
And then later: I’m so sorry I let you down.
Ivy didn’t bother responding to her
mother’s texts, although she did feel a slight pang in her chest when she saw
the words on the screen.
Maybe
you should at least say something back. She’s still your mother.
But Ivy wasn’t ready. At some point she would respond, but not
yet.
Not today.
Ivy went back into the kitchen and began
the process of brewing coffee, remembering how Cullen and his father had been
right here the previous
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