I Was Here(108)

             “But you said that her death was on your conscience.”

             “It is. It always will be. But I don’t think I ranked enough to have caused it. And besides . . .” he trails off.

             “What?”

             “I keep thinking, if it were my fault, it wouldn’t have brought you into my life.”

             My eyes fill with tears.

             “I’m in love with you, Cody. And I know that this is all complicated and confused in a wholly fucked-up way. Meg’s death was a tragedy and the worst kind of waste, but I don’t want to lose you because of the fucked-up way I found you.”

             And now I’m weeping. “Fucking Ben McCallister. You make me cry more than almost any person I’ve ever met,” I say. But I step toward him.

             “I shed a few tears myself last night.” He steps toward me.

             “I’ll bet. A thousand miles is a long way with no iPod.”

             “Yeah. The music was what was missing.” He takes another step toward me. “I shouldn’t have let you go. I should’ve said something yesterday, but it was intense for me, too, and you scared me, Cody. You scare me a lot.”

             “That’s because you’re a city dick,” I reply. “City dicks are always scared.”

             “So I’ve been told.”

             “Well, you scare me, too,” I say.

             I open my arms for him. And as it always is when I let myself be with Ben McCallister, scared is the opposite of what I feel.

             We stand there, holding each other in the waking morning. He brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes, kisses me on the temple.

             “I’m pretty fragile right now,” I warn him. “Everything’s sort of coming down all at once.”

             He nods. For him, too.

             “And this could be tricky. ‘Complicated and confused in a wholly fucked-up way,’ as you put it.”

             “I know,” he says. “We’ll just have to ride it out, cowgirl.”

             “Ride it out,” I repeat. I lean my head against him. His whole body heaves.

             “Do you want to come inside?” I ask. “Sleep for a while?”

             He shakes his head. “Maybe later.”

             The sun is up, and the early morning mist has burned off. I reach for his hand. “Come on.”

             “Where are we going?”

             “For a walk. I want to show you around. There’s a crazy rocket ship at the park where the view goes on forever.”

             I interlace my fingers with his, and we take off walking. Toward my past. Into my future.