I don’t even ask. I take Oliver from her arms and cradle him to my chest. My heart breaks as I snuggle him, breathing in his sweet baby scent. The tears come fast and furious as I just hold him to my heart. His head fits perfectly beneath my chin, and it’s like he knows I just need to embrace him right now.
I press my lips to the crown of his head. “You be a good boy, Oliver, and know I’ll always think of you.” My lips linger just a little longer on his skin before I hold him up so I can look him in the eyes. “I love you so much, little man.”
As quickly as I took him from Alison, I hand him back. The ache in my chest turns into a huge gaping void of nothing.
“Will you take him inside, please, Alison? I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Mack says, clearing his throat. He grabs my hand and my luggage and guides me toward the main entrance.
We move silently through the lingering people, most of who wave and smile warmly at today’s race winner. Mack ignores them, as if he’s unable to find the familiar excitement he felt not too long ago. He’s on autopilot, guided by his sense of doing what’s right, like always. He said it before, he won’t ask me to stay.
Even if, deep down, I really want him to.
The car is waiting where instructed. When I see it, I stumble with my steps. Mack’s strong hand in mine is the only thing that keeps me upright. It grounds me more than he’ll ever know. He heads to the open trunk and starts to place my bags inside. I keep my purse and my carry-on bag and slide them in the back seat.
When there’s nothing left but goodbye, I turn to face him. Mack. The only man I’ve ever truly loved. His eyes are sad yet resolved. He takes me in his arms and holds me to his broad chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my cheek, so strong and true.
Until he pulls away.
His hands cup my face, his fingers in my hair as he presses his lips to mine, savoring the feel of our sweet connection. “I love you, Lena. Always.”
And then he’s gone, pulling away and stepping back.
He reaches over and holds open the passenger door. With wooden legs, I slip into the car, my eyes meeting his one last time. “Stay safe, sweetheart.” He gives me that smile, the cocky smirk I fell in love with so many years ago. “Be happy.”
Then he stands up, closes the door, and taps the roof. We gently lurch forward, my heart racing as we head to the airport.
Toward home.
Suddenly, I realize I was wrong. The loneliness doesn’t happen when I get home, back to my cold, empty little house in Brenton. It engulfs and chokes me the moment I’m alone in this car, driving away from the racetrack. Away from Mack and Oliver. That’s when the true despair of solitude surrounds me.
***
I don’t go home. After the plane lands and my dad picks me up, I have him take me to his house at the track. The plane ride was the longest of my life, filled with tears and questions I don’t have the answers to. I wasn’t able to think about anything but the look on his face and his final words.
Be happy.
That’s why I’m in my dark room at four in the morning instead of sleeping in the twin-sized bed in my old room. I can’t sleep, even though I’m exhausted. Every time I try, all I see is his eyes, the sadness and the pain. I feel it in my chest too.
I go through the process of developing film from the race before I went to Los Angeles. Most of the prints are on my digital camera, but I always take a few with my old Nikon too. Only, this time, there’s no joy. As I hang the prints on the line to dry, I don’t feel that satisfaction I usually feel as the images truly start to come to life.
I feel empty.
And alone.
I drop my tweezers and walk to the corner of the room. My back hits the wall and my legs finally give out, letting me slowly slide down the hardness. The tears come fast, and I don’t even try to stop them. I let the pain wrap around my chest and squeeze.
When I wake up mid-morning, I’m alone in my studio, having passed out on the couch from sheer exhaustion, surely not a single tear left in my body. How could there be? I’ve cried them all. I ignore the thought reminding me I could go back. I could make this right.
But I won’t.
This is where I belong, not in California.
I don’t want that life, right?
Doubt slips in and won’t let go, a horrible reminder of the love I left behind. He didn’t ask me to stay, but I know why. I understand it, and in a way, am more grateful for that than anything else. Because I know myself well enough to know I would have done it, and quite possibly been miserable the entire time.
He wouldn’t want that for me.
He’d hate himself for it.
But what if…
What if I wasn’t as miserable on the road as I thought I’d be?
I surely wasn’t when I was traveling with Oliver and Mack. Yet…there’s too much doubt. Too much worry.
That’s why I’m going to take this time for me, to really think about what I want in life. Maybe that’s this life, home in Brenton with my dad nearby and my trusty studio just a stone’s throw away. Safe. Secure.
Or maybe it’s somewhere else.
All I know is I can’t answer that now. I need coffee—lots and lots of caffeine—and a hot shower.
