Chapter Twelve
Within two hours, Vaughn was pulling into his beach house’s driveway, adding life to the otherwise dead street and seasonally comatose seaside town in general. Mutely, he withdrew the keys from the ignition and proceeded to hand them to their rightful owner. Sydney had every intention of receiving the car keys and putting them in her purse. But when Vaughn went to give them to her, something made her not stick her hand out far enough, causing the rigid pieces of metal on the ring to miss her hand completely, and they jingled to the carpeted mat below her feet, her gaze following them all the way down. It was in those moments that Sydney underwent a mood change. Vaughn was there, and she was there, and they were alone at the place where mostly every major event, both good and bad, between them had taken place. They were entirely by themselves for the first time in several months, possibly for the last time for another twenty or more days. She left the keys on the floor and turned to look at her boyfriend.
His forehead was creased as he attempted to comprehend her logic.
Her eyes now fixed on him, she began to realize just how much she missed him during their time apart. She remembered days where she longed to see his smile, easy and carefree, and nights she yearned for the warmth that comes from lying next to someone, skin to skin. Though they had been together only last night, it had been hasty, and purely physical, more for the purpose of lust rather than for love, and she realized, for the umpteenth time, that she had never felt the way she felt about Vaughn in all her eighteen years, and she was certain that she never would again. He was sitting next to her in the driver’s seat of her car, close enough to touch, for what seemed like the first time in a lifetime, although he’d been sitting there all along. Metaphorically, he was always in the driver’s seat to her passenger seat. Always. Sydney noticed now that he was staring quizzically at her in turn to her own adrift gazing at him. Smiling softly, she rotated back into a position in which she was facing front, and closed her eyes gently.
Not understanding, and lost with her mind, having no road map for directions, he extended his arm out, and began to lightly run his fingertips along her coat-covered arm, communicating a small gesture of affection, of adoration, generating rows and rows of goose bumps and tiny hairs to stand tall. “You okay?” he asked finally.
Turning her head back to him, she maintained her closed-mouth smile, and broadened it slightly. “I just miss you,” she said at last. They seemed to be sharing the same sad smile, as joyless as a gloomy day.
But bleak skies open up to let the sun come out, to reheat the earth, to bring bliss, to beget rebirth.
“I miss not seeing you everyday. I miss not seeing you every weekend. I miss not seeing you every other week.” The only thought in her mind was that she didn’t want to cry, even though the tears were daring to leap off her eyelid rim. Quieter, she added, “I’d even be happy with every three weeks, or every month.”
He swallowed, not hard, and it wasn’t a gulp. The swallow was an empty reaction to her words which of course conveyed the same feelings he had. “Hey,” he said almost in a whisper as he relocated his hand to her cheek, and then his fingers went to the circles under her eyes, tenderly brushing the would-be tears away entirely before they had the chance to skydive off her chin. Around the two of them, everything was silent, except for the distant sound of a stubborn sea gull who had as of yet still refused to migrate south for the winter, and the rustling of softhearted wind.
“We’re here
now; we’re
together now,” he enlightened endearingly, the sad smile fired, the new employee taking over for it a small one. “We knew it was going to be tough, Syd. Since we made this decision, we knew that.”
“I know,” she said with reddening eyes. “But knowing and
living are so different, and there’s nothing anyone can do to prepare for the loneliness that ensues.”
“You feel lonely?” he inquired quickly, never before knowing lonesomeness was a factor in their long-distance relationship.
“Sometimes… when I’m in my dorm at night, all by myself… I just wish you were there with me,” she said, struggling, it appeared, for each word as she spoke.
“Sydney, I am always going to be there for you,” he said, caressing her cheek.
“Yeah, but you’re not there
with me.” She looked down.
Delicately, he cupped her chin, and lifted her head so that they were quite literally eye to eye. Vaughn knew he could not deny anything in her statement, for it was the solid truth. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s because I’m prettier than you and you’re jealous. I understand.” He grinned at her.
For a moment, she just stared at him, downright baffled in every way. Then, within a few more seconds, she remembered: Vaughn had said the same words to her when they were at her house, following her prom. He was trying to make her laugh, and he succeeded, so well that it initially came out as a loud burst. As each of their hearts lightened, weights lifted, they leaned in for a simple, habitual kiss.
Vaughn left his hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “You think it’s time to get out of the car now?”
She nodded, and then went to pick up the keys, while Vaughn popped open the trunk, and exited the vehicle. Through the rear window, Sydney watched as Vaughn rummaged through his belongings and retrieved his comforter. Joining him outside in the brisk air, she shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.
“Hey,” he defended, “there’s no heat in there! You never know why we’ll need this; I just think it could be useful.”
Entering through the back sliding door, they, at first, had the goal of going upstairs, to his room. But neither of them left the family room they were already in. Instead, they sat down on what once upon a time was the couch that Weiss had fallen asleep on while they watched a movie. Sydney felt nervous, as if she and Vaughn had never even kissed before. Though her palms often sweated, and her heart often raced, it had been quite a while since she actually felt nervous around Vaughn, someone she’s known for more than two years. Vaughn went to finger-comb her hair behind her ear, and his hand lingered on the side of her head. Unhurriedly, he leaned in, closed his eyes, and kissed her softly, just once at first, then twice, then three times, and more. Originally, the kisses were barely more than mild pecks, but soon they grew into a series of lengthy, romantic twisting of tongues.
His one hand never left where it had been placed, while his other catered to the back of her head for support. Meanwhile, Sydney’s owns palms were laid against his chest, gingerly dancing around his seemingly innate muscles.
They did not rush as they began to peel their clothing off and embark on what was to be a new journey through an old town, each detecting the new improvements made since the last time they visited, mostly in the form of a wholly blissful smile.
Though they had begun on the couch nearest the door, they ended up on the floor beside the couch where they had sat during that fateful movie, and sleep claimed them both.
Sydney drew in a sharp breath, and rolled over onto her other side. They were no waves of bodily heat being emitted around her, and she knew Vaughn was not lying on the carpet with her. She opened her eyes groggily, yet voluntarily, and moved her jaw around. Pulling the comforter up higher, to keep out the cold, she called out Vaughn’s name. No response. Again, she shouted out his name, and again no reply. As she was about to say his name again, she heard the back door slide open, and saw him enter, carrying a few items.
She smiled at him, and he returned the intimate action, placing his small bundle on a couch, removed his shoes, and bent down alongside her, only he was atop the covers. He kissed her, and their lips did not want to part, but reluctantly did so. “You could go back to sleep,” he told her. Ignoring the statement, she asked him what he had brought inside. “Oh, I thought maybe we should shower before going to my house, so I got soap, and towels, and stuff like that.”
Nodding, she said, “I don’t want to go back to sleep.” Next, she kissed him, deeply and meaningfully. Their foreheads rested against the others.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Vaughn exhaled, their noses almost in contact, but not just yet.
Sydney nudged her head closer, so that their lips just barely met, inadvertently teasing them both. “Out to dinner, I think,” she answered before finally joining their mouths.
Vaughn pulled back, just an inch, and said, “Don’t do that.” She was momentarily confused before he clarified. “Come to my house,” he mumbled before kissing her again. “Please,” he said, his voice strained, “come to my house.”
She agreed, and Vaughn said that if she didn’t come, his mother would have been insulted. And then, she shivered, and she didn’t think it was from the cold, but Vaughn told her they should probably start showering, and then get going, before a parent got overly suspicious.
The water falling from the showerhead and landing on the tops of their own heads was like a baptism, a renewal of their relationship, making them stronger in every way.
And, at that time, they were so indestructible that they wouldn’t even gradually deteriorate over time: they would just be forever.
i'd just like to add that i wish a very happy belated birthday to michael vartan