BEAU (original version)| ✓

53

• CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE•
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Eliot pulls over to the side of the road and I see Kendra's house stand in the distance.

We made a quick stop at a flower shop before driving over here. My father thought it'd be a good idea to surprise her with a few gifts. Hopefully, she'll accept them, my love, and we'll forget that there was ever space between us. Magnolias are her favorite. The first time I ever bought them was on her seventeenth birthday when we visited the cliffside together. It'll be just like old times.

Therapy has been helpful, and during my session tomorrow, I'll be able to tell my shrink about the progress I'm making.

"I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up," Eliot says. "If you decide to stay overnight, call me so that I won't wait around."

"I will," I reply, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. The hand I use to hold the flowers begins to tremble and my father notices. He chuckles, patting my head. "Go, Beau. Stop being so nervous. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

"What if she's not?" I can't help but wonder. This has been a rough couple of months considering how many times I've relapsed and how many nasty habits I've developed. When I roll back my sleeve, the pale skin beneath is scarred and bruised. I managed to shed a few pounds because of the substance abuse I put my body through. I just...I'm different now. I don't know if this is who she wants me to be.

"Beau." Eliot offers me an encouraging smile. "You're a good person deep inside. She can see that. Everyone can."

"Okay..."

"Don't look so glum," he chides, pinching my flushed cheek. I push his hand away and unbuckle my seatbelt. "Have fun, oui. And make sure you're careful with how you go about things. Think using this," he points at my head, "not this." His hand gestures lower.

"Don't say that," I grumble.

"It's true. I don't want grandchildren right now. So, make sure you use a – "

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. We're probably not going to do anything like that anyway. Forget it."

Eliot shrugs. "You can never be too sure. I worry, that's all."

Feeling completely exposed under his prying eyes, I quickly unlock the passenger door and step out of the car. Eliot and I wave goodbye at each other before he starts the engine, driving down the vacant street. I watch until his license plate disappears then swerve on my heel, walking up the familiar stone path leading to her front door.

I take a moment to internalize my surroundings. A left bend down the next block and I'll enter my old neighborhood. I'll see my old house – a tired, unsymmetrical structure; the unkempt front lawn; the medium-sized hole in the white fence mom never bothered fixing. Eliot's home is grand and all, but I never thought I'd live to see the day when I missed going to that shabby building. It's memorable. It's my life. It's my past.

Smoothing out a few wrinkles on my grey hoodie and pushing back my hair, I ring the doorbell. My heart hasn't beat so fast in months. Phone-calls weren't as nerve-wracking because I couldn't see the girl of my dreams face-to-face, but now that I'm only inches away, anxiety hits all at once. At the back of my mind, I think about calling Eliot to come take me home. I won't know how to act or what to say or how to explain how far I strayed.

I ring the doorbell again.

"Coming!" Kendra's sugared voice calls followed by hurried footsteps. This is it.

I count to three. The door opens.

"Kendra..."

She oddly assesses me, blinking rapidly as if she's trying to understand if I'm really here or if she's just as crazy as I am for showing up. Over a month apart and everything that encompasses Kendra is changed. Her brown eyes are lacklustre, dimmer. Her black curls are pulled back at the base of her neck, accentuating a bitter sadness in her expression as she looks over me.