Do you ever get that feeling when you suddenly rediscover that journal you wrote when you were eleven, that, in hindsight, is totally mortifying and cringe-worthy, but just reading the pages makes you feel nostalgic? You remember those events, and it’s like you’re reliving it all over again.
That was pretty much me as I stepped off of the plane and made it onto the safe tarmac of the runway. Chance was three steps behind me, and, when he fell into step beside me and followed me into the air-conditioned airport, I turned to see he had turned a garish shade of green. “You okay?”
“Do planes normally rock that much?” he asked, looking extremely woozy. “Because I’m pretty sure a plane shouldn’t rock that much at seventy-thousand feet in the air.”
“It’s just turbulence, Chance,” I said, laughing and grabbing his hand as we navigated towards baggage claim. “And you’re on the ground now. You made it.”
“I don’t like planes. I’m never flying on one again,” he decided resolutely, nodding his head.
“I’ll tell that to the plane we have to board in three days’ time,” I promised him, causing him to grimace. We found our way to the conveyor belt, and I watched as different colored luggage moved across the black rubber.
“So, excited to be back home?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I mean, I grew up here and I haven’t been back in years, but this place doesn’t exactly have the best memories for me, you know? All I remember are screaming matches and tears. There were good memories, like the high school cheerleading team and my friends, but it just doesn’t feel like home somehow.”
“Yeah? And what does?”
“Hamilton,” I told him. I’d never thought about it before, but as soon as the words left my lips I knew they were true. “Hamilton feels like home. Honestly, you and Ava and Jamie are my family, and—”
That was when I noticed that Chance had visibly tensed, and a look of uneasiness flickered across his face. “Hey, you okay?” I asked, nudging him gently.
He shook his head and forced a smile, but I could see the terse look in his eyes. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Seriously, Chance, what’s up? Was it something I said?” I asked.
He reached out suddenly and grabbed a pink duffel bag as it tumbled past down the conveyor belt. He handed it to me and then turned back, before making a quick dart for his green duffel. Then he turned around and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling us away from the section and towards the entrance.
“Are we just gonna ignore that freeze-up back there?” I asked, turning to look at him as I lugged the case behind me.
“It’s not important.”
“Chance, come on. Tell me what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong,” he told me. “Seriously.”
“Chance, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now I will dump you at this airport. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
He sighed. “Fine. It’s just… Jamie…”
“What about Jamie?” What the hell did Jamie have to do with our conversation?
“You just mentioned him and it hit a sore spot, all right?” he said tiredly, without conviction. “We’re not exactly on the best of terms right now.”
I’d noticed an odd change in Jamie in the two days following the conversation with my mom while we packed to return to Oakbridge, my hometown. But we’d never spoken directly about it, and I was realizing now maybe his mood went deeper than I’d expected.
“Why not?” I asked.
The automatic doors opened, and a gust of cold air met us, causing me to involuntarily shiver. By pure force of habit, Chance’s arm instinctively tightened around me to keep me warmer, and I couldn’t help but smile a little bit despite the circumstances.
We stepped to the curve, where rain and ice gathered in unsightly gray splashes along the road. He looked out for a cab, and spoke while we searched the wet road. “Because of you.”
“Me?” I spluttered. “What do you mean, me?”
Chance shrugged. “He’s angry and jealous that you chose me.”
I stepped away, staring at him curiously. “Chose you? I didn’t realize there was a choice here.”
“Oh, come on, Candice,” Chance said, turning to me. “You can’t not know how Jamie feels about you. I mean, he’s in love with you! Did you seriously not know that?”
I shook my head vigorously. “No, that’s not possible. Jamie’s a friend. I mean, he’s like an older brother to me.”
“And do you normally make a habit of kissing older brothers?” Chance asked, raising an eyebrow. Despite everything that had happened since, I realized Chance was still stung over that.
I winced. “Okay, not fair. We were both drunk, and I was confused and upset and lonely.”
“You were drunk and upset and confused and lonely. Jamie, however, was sober and perfectly fine. And who kissed whom again?”
I snorted. “That’s ridiculous. The kiss meant nothing. We were both drunk and we made a mistake. What’s done is done.”
Finally I saw a yellow taxi making it’s way through the crowd, and I stuck out my hand and waved it wildly like a crazy woman. Beside me, Chance muttered a noncommittal affirmation and hunched deeper into his jumper, before we piled into the cab.
“Where to, folks?” the cheery cab driver asked, and I noticed a distinct New Jersey accent.
“21 Greendale Street, Oakbridge, please,” I said politely, pulling my brown leather purse closer to me.
“Visiting family?” he continued, turning on the meter.
“Parents, actually,” I told him.
“Is your boyfriend finally meeting the parents?” The man’s voice was gruff but cute, and he had thinning salt-and-pepper hair with a bald spot on the crown. From what I could tell, he was also chewing tobacco. But given his cheery personality, I tried to keep my judgmental thoughts at bay.
“Yes, he is,” I said, smiling and wrapping my hand in Chance’s one, which was warm despite the chilly weather.
“You nervous, son?” the cabbie asked, flicking a glance to Chance through the rearview mirror.
“Unbelievably,” Chance said honestly, and I realized that I hadn’t really thought about whether or not he’d be nervous to meet them. Was he really? I knew he’d make a good impression on them—Chance was a sweet, charismatic guy, and I expected no less of him—but I hadn’t really considered the possibility he saw things differently.
“I remember when I met my wife, Maggie, she introduced me to her parents in Chicago, and…” As the cab driver launched into a long-winded story about turkey legs and an unfortunate incident with the basting butter, I turned to look out at the soft falling snowflakes coming from the sky, and wondered what this weekend would hold for us. Would things go well with my parents?
I quickly reminded myself to have an open mind about them. I couldn’t just snap quickly. I had to be cool and calm and take everything in stride, because this was my parents’ life, and if they wanted to be happy or miserable together, it was their choice.
I curled into Chance’s soft jacket and shut my eyes, listening to the steady stroke of the windshield wipers and the soft patter of snow as we drove past. It was warm and cozy, and I hadn’t even realized I was asleep until Chance gently stroked my hair and woke me.
I sat up blearily, and Chance smiled. “Hey, babe. We’re here.” He glanced out uncertainly. “At least, I hope we’re here.”
I stared out at the familiar house I’d grown up in. It was a stout one-storey house made of brownstone, and I could see that the grass and gardens were slightly overgrown and neglected. A lamp was on in my old room, and it almost seemed to be lifeless, holding no color. Completely different to my soft, warm apartment.
I turned to him with a smile. “This is the one. Are you ready?”
“After you.”
I slid from the backseat and landed surely on the icy pavement, before collecting my baggage from the taxi driver. “Thank you,” I said, before shelling out a fifty-dollar note. “Keep the change,” I told him politely.
We collected our things and started up the drive, and I glanced around at the place around me, which had not changed since I’d left. Maybe it looked more drab and cold, and the houses seemed smaller than I remembered. Maybe it was just because I was growing up. Maybe it was me that was changing.
Once we made it to the wooden porch, I blew out a breath and dropped my duffel by my feet, before knocking hesitantly on the door. Twilight was upon us, and the sky was dull and gray, with not much light to break it up.
Suddenly the door opened, and I was greeted with my mother’s face—the face I hadn’t seen since I left for college. The last time I’ d seen her, she’d given me a quick hug goodbye before returning to her sewing as I made my own way to the airport for the long commute to Florida.
It seemed she’d undergone a whole change both physically and in her attitude, because the Marie Sinclair I knew had changed completely. Her normally long blonde hair was cropped into a flattering concave bob, and her face looked clearer and a little happier now. Her blue eyes had a little more color to them, and she’d filled out a little bit from the bird-like creature I’d left. It was weird seeing her again after so much time.
“Candice!” she said excitedly, reaching out and grabbing me into a warm hug.
“Mom, hi,” I greeted, trying to put a little more enthusiasm into my voice. Still, seeing her again didn’t exactly bring back the happiest of memories—even if I was trying to make things right between us.
“Oh, I’m so happy to see you again!” she cooed.
I pulled back, and she turned to look at the other visitor on the porch. “Oh! You must be Candice’s…” she cast a questioning glance in my direction. “…boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” I said brightly, gesturing between this. “Chance, this is my mother, Marie Sinclair. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Chance Ryder.” Even now I was still relishing the opportunity to refer to him as my ‘boyfriend.’
My mother’s face lit up. “It’s so lovely to meet you!”
“You as well, Mrs. Sinclair,” Chance said politely, the picture of a wholesome boy. It was like an American clichéd novel, where the girl brings home the perfect boy who opens car doors and respects elders and treats the mother with respect. For once in my life, everything seemed just a little bit normal.
“Oh, please, call me Marie,” she told him warmly, before taking his hand and dragging us through to the foyer. “Greg, they’re home!” Mom called, and I heard the sound of a radio in the kitchen, and someone chopping up vegetables.
“Coming!” my father called, and I heard him bound jovially into the foyer, wiping his hands on a dirty dishtowel.
He’d put on a bit more weight since I’d last seen him, and he wore a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and midnight-black trousers.
“You must be the boy that finally got my girl dating,” my father said, first addressing Chance, who was shifting awkwardly from foot-to-foot. This was awkward. Real awkward.
“Yes, sir,” Chance answered, sticking out his hand. “My name is Chance. Chance Ryder. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Call me Greg!” Dad said, sounding uncomfortably like my mother in that sentence. He seemed a lot happier than I remembered, like a big teddy bear.
“Allow me to show you to your rooms.” Dad grabbed my duffel for me and lugged it up the stairs, before showing Chance to the spare room, which was decorated sparsely in nondescript browns. It used to be where Dad slept when Mom kicked him out of the bedroom. Before they divorced and everything got marginally worse.
Chance set his bag down and thanked him. “No problem, son,” my dad said, sounding happy to be of service. Why don’t you get unpacked and washed up? Dinner should be ready for fifteen.”
Chance thanked him again, and I walked with Mom to my bedroom, which had barely changed since I’d left at eighteen. The old pink lamp was still set up, as well as the wooden desk I did my homework at and the large oak cupboard that had stored all of my clothes and a few snacks in case Mom was crying or her and Dad were arguing and I couldn’t leave the room for food. I’d been nothing if not conservative.
“He’s cute,” Mom whispered to me, helping me set down my duffel on my bed.
I smiled. “I know, right?” It felt strange, talking to my mother about something as trivial as boys after so long. Due to my resistance towards all-things-male, I’d never had the opportunity to gossip over things like that.
“It’s so nice to finally meet one of your boyfriends,” Mom gushed, sitting on the wooden chair at my desk.
I raised an eyebrow. “Finally? We’ve been dating for, like, a few weeks. I haven’t exactly been hiding him underneath the stairs.”
She shrugged and picked up one of my plush dollies, before smoothing it’s cotton hair with her slender, pianist’s fingers. “I know. It’s just, you always kept your boyfriends so private in high school. It’s nice to finally meet one of them.”
I sputtered out a surprised laugh. “What do you mean?! Mom, I didn’t date anyone in high school. I never even went out!”
“I just assumed, you know… a normal high school girl dated sometimes. You were always so pretty and happy, and you were on the cheerleading squad and I know that boy Seth liked you… I used to think you snuck boys in here when I was out, or something.”
I shook my head. “No, Mom. I haven’t dated anyone ever. Honestly, this is my first boyfriend in… ever.”
“Oh,” she said numbly. “Wow.”
I shook my head and turned around, blotting my hands on my denim-clad thighs and searching the contents of my duffel bag as a way to distract myself from the embarrassment of her assumptions.
“So,” Mom continued nonchalantly, but her eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief. “Have you guys…?”
“Have we what?” I asked distractedly, toying with a pink t-shirt I’d brought along. It smelled distinctly of Ava’s washing powder, some nondescript lavender brand, but it also smelled like sunshine and Hamilton and Florida, and a whole other life to the one I was living now.
She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Have you guys… you know…?” she trailed off, and I realized her meaning.
“Oh, my God, Mom,” I said, bleating out a laugh in surprise and throwing a rolled up camisole at her in a joking manner.
She laughed and caught it easily, before replacing it in the suitcase as neatly as it had first been packed. “What? I’m curious,” she defended. “Have you?”
“No!” I said, shaking my head resolutely. “No, we haven’t done… that.”
I could hardly even say the word, let alone contemplate the prospect of it. I mean Chance and I doing that kind of thing hadn’t been on the agenda so far. We were taking life one slow step at a time. I didn’t know when I’d be ready for that kind of thing. Could be weeks, months, years… even days. I’d play it by ear and see what happened.
I didn’t know if the fact her daughter was a twenty-one year old virgin was a surprise or not. If so, she didn’t show it. Instead, she stood up and put the plush doll back. “I’m going to go help your father with dinner,” she told me, ruffling my hair affectionately in a way she’d never done before. “It’ll be ready in about ten.”
I nodded and thanked her, before turning back to my room, which was eerily similar. “Oh, Candice?” she said, and I turned around to see her leaning against the doorframe, a wistful look on her pretty features.
“Yeah?” I asked, taking a seat on the lacy white coverlet.
She smiled. “I’m glad you’re back in my life.”
She didn’t give me a chance to respond or even process the words before she turned around and left, leaving me sitting on the bed dumbfounded. She’d never said anything like that before. Even in the final days before I left for college, she hadn’t even told me she loved me. The abundance of affection I was suddenly receiving from both my mother and my father was almost too much for me to handle.
“Hey,” a voice suddenly said, snapping me from my reverie.
I looked up to see Chance had replaced my mother’s earlier post, leaning against my door. I smiled at him; one constant thing in this ever-changing world. “Hey,” I said softly.
He detached himself from the door and walked inside, and I found myself loosening up slightly in his presence. “Careful,” I warned, standing up. “If my dad catches you in the room, I’m pretty sure he’ll slaughter you.”
Chance smirked and wrapped two steady arms around my waist, pulling me in. “I think I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, before leaning down and kissing me gently on the lips.
My hands reached up and instinctively ran through his soft brown hair, bringing us closer. His lips were warm and soft and steady and reassuring; and everything I craved. His thumb rubbed reassuring circles into my waist, putting me instantly at ease.
“Kids!” I heard my mother call from downstairs, and we instinctively jumped apart as if we’d been electrocuted by a livewire. “Dinner’s ready!”
I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair, which had somehow become messed up. “Coming!” I called back shakily, before clearing my throat. “Let’s go,” I whispered, before leading him downstairs and into whatever the future held for us.
~ * ~
That night, after I’d helped cleaned the kitchen, finished unpacking and gotten ready for bed, I climbed in and tightened the ivory sheets around me, before switching off the lamp. Through the light chiffon curtains, a sliver of moonlight had passed the barrier of dark clouds and illuminated the room, and I stared at the ceiling.
So much can change in life. Just three years ago, I’d never thought I’d be involved in a serious relationship, with a mother who tells me she loves me and hugs me like she never wants to let me go. It’s just something I’d never have contemplated before. But now everything had changed, because of one phone call and one moment of self-awareness.
I rolled over and stared at the clock, which blinked that it was just past eleven. As I stared, the numbers morphed together, and no matter how many times I tossed and turned and yet another hour ticked off the clock, I couldn’t sleep.
I sighed and sat up in the bed, before peeling back the covers and allowing my feet to fall softly on the cold wooden floor. I was only wearing an oversized t-shirt I’d kept with me since my younger years, and my hair fell in messy waves around my face.
I stood up and walked silently to the door, before opening it and stepping into the frigid hallway air, thanking God my parents had kept the hinges oiled over the years. Despite the fact my parent’s bedroom was located downstairs, my father had ears like a hawk.
I crept further down the hallway as silently as I could, until I faced Chance’s door, which was the same white wood as mine. I stood on the threshold for a second, hesitating, before I pushed it open.
Moonlight sliced through his room, and I could see him laying on his beck, his head resting on one arm and his eyes staring at the ceiling, as if he couldn’t sleep either.
“Chance?” I whispered softly, and his head snapped towards where I hesitated by the door.
A soft smile overtook his features, and I took in everything about him. The way his eyes were sleepy and tired and his voice was soft and slurred like he was exhausted. The way his white shirt crinkled and he had one leg tangled around the bed sheets. For some reason, every detail seemed immensely important.
A sleepy smile overtook his features, and he murmured in a sleepy, tired voice, “Hey, Candi. What’s up?”
I gently shut the door behind me and tiptoed over to his bed, before sitting on the edge. It was only a single, but it was a pretty roomy single, so I wasn’t too concerned. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” I asked softly, feeling like a child who had suffered a nightmare.
He raised an eyebrow, and I saw a twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes. “Well, that’s awfully forward, considering your parents are downstairs. But, you know, I’ll try anything once…”
I smacked him on the arm with a quiet giggle. “Not like that. I can’t sleep. Can I just stay with you tonight?”
He leaned over to the edge and gestured for me to slide in beside him. I did, and suddenly realized how strange my subconscious decision to move in here with him had been. I’d never slept in the same bed with anyone before—much less a boy I was romantically involved with. What even was the custom for something like this?
But Chance seemed utterly at ease as he slid closer to me, and I curled into his chest, where his steady heartbeat continued like a metronome. His arm came around my waist and pulled me into him, and I snuggled closer, thankful for his warmth and the breath that stirred my hair and the boyish scent and everything that was purely Chance. Things that defied description.
“Chance?” I whispered, looking up at the beige ceiling.
“Hmm?” he asked, his arms tightening instinctively around my arm and puling me impossibly closer.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about the Institute,” I said softly, my words breaking through the silence like honey. “I don’t know if I’m going to say yes and move away from here forever, or if I’m going to stay in America and live the rest of my days here. But no matter what I do, I want you to know something.”
“What?” he whispered, a strange hitch to his voice as if he didn’t want to think about the prospect of me leaving. Honestly, neither did I.
“No matter what I choose, or where I go in life, or what I do… I want you to know that I…” I broke off and swallowed past a growing lump in my throat as tears filled my eyes. In the uncertainty of everything, he was constant. “…I choose you.”
He didn’t say anything, just pulled me closer and pressed a light kiss to the crown of my head, letting me know that he understood and he felt the same as I did.
There are a lot of life-changing moments in a person’s existence, and there are a lot of things that provide a catalyst for change. It can be a life, a death, a phone call, a kiss, or a first love. Something that changes everything, or brings about a moment of realization.
The day I realized it, it wasn’t because of a confession, or a kiss that tasted of promise and forever. It wasn’t a gesture, or a facial expression, or a scent or a place or anything substantial like that.
No, it was something about that movement. About the way he kissed my head and shut his eyes and let out a sigh like everything was right in the world.
That was what was my catalyst.
That was what made me realize that I really and truly did…
Love Chance.
~ * ~
ladies and gentlemen there is the drop, the big change, the confession, the 'L' word - whooooo!
as a plus, my new book is coming out within the next week, and i'm really excited and i hope you'll join me there because you love me.
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