She blends in the different shades of lines she drew on my face as she says, “Okay, you can’t trust me about most things, but when it comes to fashion and makeup, I’ll never let you down. That’s my promise to you. My sisterhood of the traveling pants pact.”
Her lips pucker as if of their own accord, and her expression is so serious my eye twitches.
“Don’t move,” she orders.
“I’m sorry, but it looks like you’re getting ready to perform surgery instead of do my makeup.”
She sits back to inspect her work, then grins, a glimmer in her eye. “Makeup saves lives just the same.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Fuck yeah.” She blows on a small brush, then gets to work on my eyes. After a few quick strokes across my eyelids, I blink as she gets a pink tube out.
“Oh, I don’t use waterproof mascara—”
She holds her free hand up. “You’ll be glad you did.”
I don’t ask any questions—it’s my attempt at trusting her.
We easily pass the time with our chatter and soft music in the background. She tells me about her plans once she moves out of Sunnyville. She’s been talking about moving back to LA, and she mentions it again now. It’s the same conversation we’ve had for months.
She was only supposed to be here for two, but here she still is, over five months later.
“Why don’t you just stay?”
She blinks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “Stay in Sunnyville permanently?”
I shrug. “You could buy the house you’re in instead of renting. Renting is just money down the drain, anyway. You love working for Lauren at her boutique. Why don’t you open your own? You could build a life for yourself. No following your friends to Bali for a spiritual retreat that turns out to be an expensive excuse to drink heavily.”
I glare at her, recalling how she spent the first week of December.
“That’s fair,” she says, her eyebrows shooting upward. “But I can’t stay in Sunnyville. Seriously, I need my old life back.”
“Do you?” I stop her and pull her hands in mine. “Or are you happier here than you were in LA?”
“It is easier to get around here. LA traffic is a bitch.”
“Yet another reason to stay.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Will you?”
“I will.” She rolls her eyes, then picks up the curling iron. “Now hold still so I don’t burn you.”
I straighten my back and remain perfectly still while she gets to work. When she’s done, she brushes out the curls to make waves, then empties half a can of hairspray on my hair. “I think that’s enough.”
“I just want it to hold. It’s windy out there.”
“I wonder where I’m going.” I pick up my phone, but there’s no text with an address yet.
“You don’t even know where Dax is taking you?”
“No. He just told me to wear the purple dress and to pick Jacob up at eight.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” She talks like she’s not interested in the conversation. Like I’m talking about Jacob’s report card.
Or she’s pretending not to know.
“What’re you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes widen. “Where is he picking you up?”
Just as she asks, I get a text from Dax with an address. “The high school.”
“Your date is at a high school?” She scrunches her face like she does when she takes out the trash.
“It’s where Dax and I went to school.”
“So, this is like a nostalgic thing? I don’t get it.”
“I need to go.” I check myself in the mirror, thankful Sienna came by. She worked her magic, and I can’t wait for Dax to see me like this. “Thanks again for your help. I’ll bake you the best fat-free, gluten-free, tasteless muffins ever and bring them over tomorrow.”
“Okay, and make sure they have nuts in them. I love nuts.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes as we make our way downstairs.
“I can’t wait to hear everything.” She hugs me goodbye. I expect a quick one, but she squeezes me, lingering by the door.
She gives me one more grin before she leaves, and I drive to the high school with a big smile on my face.
What is waiting for me?
When I step out of my car, I take in the dark and empty building. The only things I can hear are cars passing by and the wind rustling leaves. I clutch my pea coat over my shoulders as I breathe in the cool air.
“Right this way, Mom.”
I turn to my side, and Jacob holds his arm out. He’s wearing suspenders over a button-up and a bow tie.
I step toward him. “What’s going on, bud?”
“You’ll see.”
I hook my arm through his and walk slowly, my heels clicking on the concrete as we walk along the sidewalk underneath the awning toward the gymnasium.
The memories.
So many memories are kept here, and walking through my old school, I’m hit with a flash reel of them.
Lunch on the picnic tables by the cafeteria during sunny days.
Cheer practice on the lawn.
Running to class to avoid being late, because Dax and I got lost in one of our many conversations.
Here I am now, almost sixteen years later, with my son walking through these memories with me. One day, he’ll be here as a student too. He’ll make his own memories.
When we round the corner, my breath hitches.
Several votive candles line the sidewalk, the small flames flickering in the breeze.
Rose petals are sprinkled along the concrete.
I follow the path to the parking lot, and once I take it all in, my knees tremble.
Dax waits with a single rose where we used to park our cars next to each other on the days we didn’t carpool.
“What the—” I choke on my next words, tears building because of the scene in front of me.
As we near, Dax stuffs one hand in his pocket, his smile illuminating the dark night.
He’s in a suit. Sharp and clean-cut with his hair styled. He’s too good-looking to be a normal guy, let alone a cardiologist with a big heart of his own.
Jacob and I stop a foot away from Dax, where rose petals form a heart around the spot where he’s standing.
“Thanks, buddy.” He winks at Jacob.
I shake my head, trying to grasp what’s going on, and once the blood stops rushing to my ears, I hear the soft melody mixed with our surroundings. It’s like the trees in the distance are singing. It’s all sweet and slow and romantic.
Dax takes my hand and glances around before landing his attention back on me. “Once upon a time, a boy kissed a girl in this very spot.”
I cover my mouth with my free hand, the vivid memory of our senior prom playing in my head.
“He was awkward and scared as hell.” His eyes bore into mine as his deep voice tells the story of treasured moments from the past. “He’d wanted to kiss the girl for years, and he was afraid of messing it up. Because you see, the girl was his best friend. She was also beautiful and extraordinary, and he didn’t deserve her.”
I shake my head as tears threaten to fall.