Stolen Course by Aly Martinez
I sigh and try to find the answer. I’m not completely sure why. All I know is that it grounds me.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, and she quickly steps away, wiping under her eyes.
“I know things are shit with us right now, but it still hurts knowing you spend almost every night there.” Damn. I didn’t even realize that she knew where I was, much less that it hurt her. “If I’m being honest, it worries me.” This is by far the most we have spoken since the day at the doctor when I tucked my tail and ran. And the fact that we are talking now is shocking the shit out of me, but Emma continues. “I feel like you are sliding backwards in this relationship. When we first got together, you were so ready to move on and start a new life, but now…I think you are using your past as a way prevent yourself from dealing with us—the present.”
She’s not right, but she definitely isn’t wrong.
“Emma, the past is safe. It already destroyed me once. It can’t hurt me anymore. Unlike you, who has the ability tear me to shreds over and over again. I go numb when I sit at her grave. The feeling I so tried to avoid all those years is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”
“Right,” she whispers, and I know that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but it’s the only explanation I have.
When I first started going there, I told myself that it was nothing unusual. I was just visiting Manda. However, as the days passed and I spent more and more time sitting on the ground blankly staring at her name, it began to shut me down. And God, that was a welcome change from the emotional upheaval I have been in recently.
“I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ll clean up the kitchen in the morning.” She moves to slide back off her flip-flops and crawls into her—our—bed.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask, feeling helpless. It was only a flash of my Emmy when I walked in tonight, and then again when she hugged me, but it was amazing how such a brief touch immediately soothed me.
“You’re not the only one who needs to feel numb these days,” she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice. She turns away from me and curls into the bed.
I stand, watching her, the sound of her soft sobs floating through the room. I could just reach out to touch her, comfort her, and tell her that I love her. But I can’t, because every time I look into her eyes, my heart completely breaks. Different woman. Same scenario. I want a family and a forever with her, but once again, I’m left holding on to another woman who can’t commit.
“Please leave me alone,” she says to the wall.
Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, very gently shutting the door with a soft click behind me. Suddenly, I realize that I don’t need to go to Manda’s grave for the pain to take over. The slight crack in Emma’s voice tonight was more than enough to hold me captive for weeks. I slide down the wall just outside her door. I drop my head to my hands and listen to her cry. The bite from the pain in my chest overwhelms me.
Yeah. This will do. This is actually fifty times more painful that visiting Manda.
Four hours later, long after Emma has fallen asleep, I get up and head to my makeshift bed on the couch, feeling more lost than ever.
I MUST have cried for hours before finally drifting off. I love him. He loves me. We are having a baby. That should be the end of the story, but life doesn’t work like that. Caleb and I have this invisible barrier between us. First, it was Sarah. Then, for a brief moment, it was Manda. But now, it’s just Caleb.
I wonder if this is how Brett felt for all those years fighting for Sarah. She was right in front of him, but he couldn’t touch her. For a moment, my imagination gets the best of me and I wonder if it weren’t for the baby if Caleb would already be gone. I miss him so damn much. If only we could get through this turmoil, I know we could be happy together. I wish I could help him leave Manda in the past and once and for all escape the ghost of their relationship that haunts him. Suddenly, Jesse’s words from weeks ago float through my mind.
“He told Sarah that, wherever ever his wife may be in the heavens, he would always love her, but he accepted that it wasn’t her anymore.”
Suddenly, a ridiculous plan to help Caleb forms. Will it work? Who the fuck knows. But I’ll try just about anything to get him back.
I throw on some clothes and rush out of my bedroom. It can’t be earlier than nine a.m., but when I run through the den, Caleb is lying on his back with one hand propped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
“Don’t leave, okay?” I say to him while rushing to the door.
“What the hell are you doing, Emmy?” he asks, and the use of my nickname almost brings a tear to my eye.
A broad smile crosses my face, and I shake my head. “I love you. Like a lot.” I lift my fingers a good six inches apart and hold them up in his direction.
He nods, biting his lip, remembering exactly what that means. “I love you, too.” He coughs, clearing the frog of emotion from his throat.
“I’ll be right back. Promise you won’t leave.”
“I’ll always be here. Always, Emmy.”
I smile once again and head out to my car.
“WHAT ARE those?” I ask thirty minutes later when Emma comes rushing back in the door.
“Balloons,” she says matter-of-factly.
“And what exactly are they for?”
“Therapeutic healing.”
“Excuse me?” I try to figure out what the hell she’s up to.
“You’ll see. I have a few things I need to say to someone.”
“Um, okay,” I answer as she grabs the permanent marker out of the kitchen drawer and sits down on couch. She pulls one balloon from the bunch, drags it into her lap, and begins to write.
“Here.” She hands me a bright pink balloon with black ink scrawled over the outside.
Thank you for Caleb. He’s amazing, and I know you had a hand in that.
I look up at her, confused, just as she hands me the next balloon.
Thank you for Collin. Without you, he wouldn’t be here. You gave me that. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.
“Emma, what are you doing?”
She hands me yet another balloon.
Thank you for helping Sarah through this. She needs you and loves more than you will ever know.
And just when I begin to think Emma has completely lost it, she hands me her last balloon.
Manda, I didn’t know you well, but I love you for all the things you have given me.
And that is when it hits me—she’s talking to Manda via balloons.
“No,” I whisper as my voice catches.
“Caleb, you can’t stop me.” She stands, snatching the balloon strings from my hand and heading out the front door.
It might seem ridiculous. I know she isn’t really talking to my dead fiancée, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to stop her from releasing those balloons.
“Emma!”
“Shut it, Caleb! I’m doing this and it’s long overdue. She has given me more than I can ever thank her for, so damn it, I’m sending her four balloons.” She wipes a tear from her eye and lets them go.
I watch helplessly as four pink balloons zigzag through the sky. It’s more than I can take, and I find myself falling onto my ass in my front yard while they float out of sight. I’m not sure if it’s the words written on them or the very idea of Manda actually receiving them that has me in a panic. I can almost see her face when she reads each one. The bright smile I know she would be wearing and the breathtaking laugh that would be sure to follow.
“Here.” Emma appears at my side, holding out the black marker and six pink balloons and two white ones. “Get busy. You have a lot stuff to say. Let me know if you need more balloons.” I begin to argue, but I can’t get a word in. “Caleb, it needs to be said. You have people depending on you, and it’s not Manda anymore. The pink ones are for her, and the white ones are for Sarah.” My eyes grow wide, and she quickly amends her statement. “The old Sarah. The on
“Emma…” I drift off because I’ve been an ass recently, and I know she deserves more. I stare at the swell of her belly, at my son, and know she’s right. “I miss her,” I finally admit, looking into her eyes.
“And that’s okay, Caleb. I’m not asking you to forget her. But what isn’t okay is you rolling around in your grief, pushing me away, and forcing me to do this pregnancy without you because of your issues with her. Sure, you might be present, but you aren’t here.”
I lock my hands on top my head and let out a loud breath. “Sweetheart, no amount of balloons in the world is going to fix me.”
“Maybe not, but a first step is better than no step at all.” Her words make my heart ache.
“Emma, no matter how big of a dick I may act like, I love you and I love that baby. I just can’t figure out how to let go of the past and embrace the future. I feel like I’m nailed down. The world keeps passing me by, but I am rooted without any way to let go.”
“I know, so you better get to writing. I love you too, and that is the only reason I’m doing this. I need you, he needs you, and no matter what you think…you need us. Now, make sure this hurts like hell so you can truly let it fly away with those balloons.” She turns and walks into the house, leaving me sitting alone in our front yard with a fistful of helium and a black marker.
I sit for a few minutes, trying to figure out how long I need to sit out here to make her believe I followed through with her elementary ploy, when suddenly a single bright red leaf blows across my foot. It’s the middle of August in Chicago. There are nothing but green leaves on the trees this time of year, and while I know it’s probably left over from last fall, blown from the yard of my neighbor who never rakes, I still take it as a sign from Manda. After uncapping the marker, I begin to write.
Four hours later and six pink balloons that are now more black than pink, I let them go and watch them float away, taking with them a huge weight off my chest. My words weren’t all sweet and kind. Some of them were angry and even scathing. I’ve been pissed off for a long time, but you can’t exactly take that out on the woman who lost her own life. However, you can’t take it out on the woman you hope to spend the rest of your life with either.
I lie back on the rocky grass and stare into the midday sun, reminiscing over the days leading up to the accident and the ones immediately following it. It’s been over five fucking years. I shouldn’t still be gutted every time I think about the past. It may not have happened the way I wanted it to, but as I think about Emma sitting on my couch, probably drinking one of those nasty-ass smoothies she loves so much, I know I can finally move forward.
I reach over and pull away one of the white balloons I tied to the small bush in my flowerbed. As I look at the blank slate, I realize that this part is going to be harder than I ever could have imagined. I have hated Sarah for a long time. I can’t muster anything to say to her. I think back on those last moments in the restaurant before Brett and I got called away. Sarah was always a little crazy…just like her sister…but she had a good heart before the accident. The four of us always had fun together, but remembering those happier times hurts like hell. Emma said to make it hurt. So sitting like douche in the middle of my front yard, holding a single white balloon, I try to remember every silly moment of Sarah, Manda, and even Casey. It was always a blast when we were all together.
After a long day of strolling down memory lane, just as the sun sets, I pick up the marker and finish this whole stupid game. Using one of Sarah’s white balloons, I send a final message up to Manda.
Manda, it took me long enough, but I think this will make you happy, and that might be the best reason of all.
I reach back, snagging the last balloon.
Sarah, I forgive you.
I rise to my feet, stretching my aching legs. Looking up, I whisper a final, “I love you,” and let them go. I don’t stand there to watch them fly into the sky. I have a woman and child inside who need me, and nothing will keep me from them ever again.
Fucking balloons.
I WALK back into my house hours after I walked out of it. I’m probably sunburned all to hell and back, I’m starving, and I need water something fierce, yet I only have one thing on my mind. I rush through the house, turning off the lights and locking the doors as I go. Finally, I reach our room and gently push the door open wide.
“Hey, you,” she says when her eyes immediately jump to mine. She’s sitting up watching TV, a million pillows propping her up
“I’m going to kiss you,” I start, and her eyes go wide. “Then I’m going to make love to you.” Her smile slides away as heat immediately fills her face. “And then we are going to make plans to spend the next one hundred years together.”
Just as quickly as it fell, her soft smile returns.
“You always do make good plans.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be able to say that enough. I pushed my own personal shit on you when you needed me. I’m so fucking sorry, Emmy.”
Her lip begins to quiver, but she bites it to hold back the tears. “It’s not all your fault. I might be a tad hormonal and have taken that out on you…a little bit.”
“A tad?” I smirk and walk over to sit on the edge of the bed. I reach out and wipe away her tears before cupping my hand against her cheek. She sways into my touch. “I’m sorry.” I repeat.
“You really are an ass, but I’ve missed you.”
And that’s it. I push my mouth against hers for an emotional kiss. One by one, I pull the pillows out from behind her until she’s flat on the bed. I strip away the blankets and step back just to look at her for a minute.
Stunning—that’s the only word I can use to describe the vision that lies before me. What I did to deserve her and the little boy growing in her belly, I will never understand. Emma was right. I need her. But right now, I really need to be inside her. The emotions buzzing around inside me are enough to make a man go crazy. I just need to show her—make her feel it too.
Grabbing the top of her yoga pants, I slide them down her legs. I take my time on the way down to appreciate her body—to appreciate her. She’s quiet and still, which is a little unnerving. Emma is always playing for the upper hand in the bedroom—always trying to capture control.
“You’re not going to argue with me? No smartass comments?”
“Not tonight.” She lifts her hips off the bed as I hook my fingers in her panties and drag them down her legs.
“Nothing?” I ask again.
“No. I have a suspicion you need to do this one your way.” She reaches out and rubs a hand up my arm.
Fuck. I love this woman. I look away long enough to man up when the emotion of her words overwhelm me. Life gave me a second chance, and regardless of how many times I almost screw it up, Emma is always there to help me pull it back together. I don’t deserve her, but I’m going to selfishly keep her for the rest of my life.
Sliding my eyes back to hers, I’m met with a staggering combination of lust and love. I crawl onto the bed beside her and push her T-shirt up and over her head with one hand. Letting my eyes travel down her body, I stop at the small bump of her stomach. Over the last three weeks, Emma has really popped. Gone is her perfectly flat stomach, but in its place is something even more amazing. It’s still so surreal to me that my son is growing in there. I run my hand tenderly over her bump, bending to place a small kiss near her belly button. I hear her whimper and my eyes immediately flash to hers, finding them full of unshed tears.
“What are you thinking right now?” I ask, sitting up to cup her cheek.
“I’m thinking I need you to be real this time. That I can’t do this drama with you anymore. I want you to be my life, but I have to be yours. I’m sorry if you feel trapped because of the baby, but—”
“What?” My head snaps back as if she slapped me.
“I just love you and—”
“I’m not afraid to commit. I’m not Manda. But when we do get married, I want it to be because were in love and want to spend forever together.”
“Emmy, I love you and that has nothing to do with Manda or the baby or any other outside element you could possibly conjure up. I love you because you’re smart and funny. You challenge me and call me on my bullshit. I’m sure that will one day get annoying, but for now, I fucking love it. You’re quirky and artistic. Did I mention hilarious? Jesus, you make me laugh. I could sit here for hours and tell you why I want to marry you, and not a single one them would have anything to do with that baby. People don’t have to be married to have a baby.”
Her cheeks flush to red as she lies naked before me. It’s not from embarrassment at being exposed. No, this is Emma. She’s excited.
I lean in and press my lips softly to hers. She tries to deepen it, but I pull away slightly and peck her lips a few more times. I climb off the bed and get rid of my clothes, never for a second tearing my eyes away from hers. I move back over her body and position myself between her thighs. I can feel the heat from her core, and it makes my mouth water. This is more for me though. This is a way to show her how deep I am in it with her. Even if she never wants to get married, this is it.
I slide inside her, bending down to capture her moan with my mouth. That’s my girl. She's always ready for me, and tonight, even despite our issues, is no different. She’s so wet and warm, and it feels like home. I slowly find my rhythm, letting all the emotions take over.
Grabbing my ass, she tries to encourage me to go faster—begging and pleading with me to fuck her.
“Stop,” I breathe into her mouth.
“Please, faster. Fuck me harder, Caleb,” she demands, showing me a quick flash of the woman I’m used to. But it’s so much more than fucking for me this time. She was right, I need to do this one my way.