To See You Again Read online

  To See You Again

  marian gard

  Copyright © 2016

  Marian Gard

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image Copyright: gpointstudio

  Used under license from Shutterstock.com

  Cover Design by Marian Gard

  eBook Formatting by BookConversions.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To know someone here or there with whom you can feel there is understanding in spite of distances or thoughts expressed –

  That can make life a garden. ~ Goethe

  *** *** ***

  Chapter 1

  (Raven -- 2000)

  "I think Red Delicious must've had some good marketing." I take a final bite of my apple and then chuck it in the direction of the water flowing downhill from us. It smacks into a large rock and then continues tumbling through grass, dirt and smaller rocks, until it rolls to a stop just short of the riverbank.

  "What're you talking about?" Collin raises his head off the ground where he's lounging, and watches the now mud and grass covered apple lodge itself between a large slate rock and a mound of dirt. We've been hanging out in a quiet swatch of land by the riverside. One of our many "hideouts," as Collin calls them, off campus. He's been taking photos, mostly of nature and occasionally of me, for the past few hours. I've been playing guitar and singing, trying to practice a new song I wrote.

  "Apples. Red Delicious are like the least delicious of all the apples. In fact, usually they're disgusting. So the only rational reason for them to have a name like Red Delicious is good marketing. It certainly isn't an accurate description. Well, except for the red part, I guess. We all buy them, hoping for something more, but they're consistently gross."

  Collin props his head up on one arm and eyes me. "An apple conspiracy?"

  "Totally," I deadpan.

  "You're so strange." He pulls himself up and extracts a cigarette from his pocket. It dangles from his lips as he glances over at me. "Do you mind?"

  "Do you care if I do?" I roll my eyes. I have no idea why he asks me that nearly every time he lights up. He's gonna smoke it no matter what I say.

  "I'm trying to be polite." Collin almost sounds offended, but I know he isn't. I know him better than anyone.

  "Since when?" Collin grins and carefully exhales smoke away from me. Faking a stern expression, I ease myself back down into the grass and place an arm over my eyes, shielding them from the blazing sun. The grass is the early spring kind—a beautiful, deep green all soft and new. In just a few months most of it'll be brown and yellow and way too scratchy to lie down on without a blanket.

  I should probably be studying. Finals are right around the corner, but it was unseasonably warm this afternoon and it didn't take much coaxing on Collin's part to get me to the river. Most people from our school go to a spot about twenty minutes from here. It's crowded and loud there. I hate it. While the stretch of river we frequent is a lot rougher and definitely more of a hike to any sort of parking, it's totally worth it. There are plenty of trees for shade and it feels untouched and private. Also, Collin sometimes gets weirdly talkative when we're here, and I always enjoy those moments when they come along.

  I peek over at him through the crook of my arm. I've never met anyone more contradictory. He looks like he was torn from the pages of some celebrity magazine. He's rugged and has strong, angled facial features that make him look older than he is, but in a good way. When my stoic stepmother met him for the first time, she actually blushed and became uncharacteristically flustered. It was both amusing and awkward. Collin pretended not to notice, but my dad definitely did. My younger half-sister Mindy and I giggled about it later, making fun of our dad's childish scowl. On his mother's side he comes from a ton of money and a very long line of good-looking overachievers.

  There's a lot more to him than just his pretty face, though. The Mr. Team Captain looks are just that, looks. Beneath his sculpted features and perfectly (and naturally) highlighted blonde hair is a total loner. He wants nothing to do with frats or organized sports or even college, half the time. Unless he's drinking, he'll rarely talk to someone he doesn't know. His aloofness can come off as rude and unfriendly, and it bums me out that he doesn't get along well with most of my friends, but I also kind of selfishly love how he'll open up just with me.

  The other contradictory part is almost no one knows he's loaded. Even though I'm sure he doesn't need to, he has always worked some low-paying, crappy, part-time job and he rarely spends money on anything apart from food and cigarettes. Part of that's because he doesn't have access to most of his funds, but his checking account still exceeds that of most working people in their thirties.

  My understanding of what stands in between Collin, and truly serious cash, is meeting his stepdad's stipulations—namely, a dramatic improvement in his GPA and what Victor refers to as an attitude adjustment—but it's too late for one of those and the other I don't see happening anytime soon.

  Despite his abysmal grades, Collin is hands-down the smartest person I've ever met. Had he tried at all in high school he probably could've earned admission to an Ivy League school, but instead he's slumming it with kids like me at state school. He could kick my butt in just about any class we've taken together, and probably any one offered at this school, but he's always sabotaging himself. He doesn't show up to class half the time, fails to complete assignments, or just does things half-assed. This infuriates his family and has isolated him from most of the kids he grew up with. It ticks me off sometimes, too. If I had a brain like that, I wouldn't waste it. Amazingly, in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, he's scheduled to graduate on time with me in a little less than two weeks.

  "You almost ready to go?" I roll on to my side, watching him stomp out his cigarette on a nearby rock. "Don't you dare throw that cigarette butt on the ground!" I'm practically shouting, and a smile works its way across Collin's face. I know he was thinking about it, and he loves that he has just gotten a rise out of me without having done anything at all.

  "Says the girl that just tossed an apple down the hill, because she proclaimed it disgusting." He looks over at me and his blue eyes seem to dance
with the river reflected in them.

  "Um, that apple is one hundred percent biodegradable, unlike that death stick of yours that's filled with toxins." I point an accusing finger in his direction.

  Collin raises his hand holding the cigarette butt like a mini-missile and points it at the river. He revels in my predictable response, as I leap to a stand and begin jumping around trying to grab it from his hands as though we're playing a childish game of keep-away.

  "Don't worry, Raven, I'm not going to do it." At his words, I put my hands to my hips and wait for proof. He drops the remains of the cigarette into his plastic water bottle and seals the lid.

  I glare at him. "You'd better clean that out and recycle it when we get home!" I found a collection of cigarette-filled water bottles outside the apartment last week and gave him an earful about it.

  He bows toward me and performs an exaggerated hand roll. "But of course, Madame Earth, anything for you." He grins.

  "Madame Earth?" I giggle. "What the hell is that about, Collin?"

  "I don't know. You're the one tossing out edicts and giving commands. I'm just trying to follow orders." He shrugs and gives me a faked look of confusion, but I can see the smirk he's suppressing. "I didn't think you'd prefer the more maternal title of Mother Earth. I thought maybe it wasn't feminist enough. I was trying to be respectful."

  "Yep. That sounds like you—Mr. Respectful."

  I bend down and rip a clump of grass with my hand and then toss it in his direction. I aim for his face, but the grass is limp and a somewhat damp and it ends up just falling between us. Collin bursts out laughing. "What was that?"

  "That was me having enough of you!" I peel wet grass off of my hand and fling it onto the ground between us.

  He rolls down his lower lip and replies sarcastically. "I didn't know there was such a thing as too much of me. This has to be the first time you've said that."

  More like the hundredth.

  "Oh, that's a good one. Is that what you tell all your little girlfriends?" I quip. Much to my total shock, Collin looks temporarily stunned. He didn't see that jab coming. He recovers quickly and returns to teasing me about trying to assault him with blades of grass. I'm laughing and joking in return, but I can't help thinking about the look of surprise (or was it hurt?) that swept across his face when I referenced his reputation with women.

  He's been known to date lots of women. Date is a kind term to describe what I'm referring to, actually. He picks up women, has sex, and moves on. I'd feel bad for the girls, but I mean, really? What do they expect when they give it up to him immediately like that?

  My roommate, Tabby, finds his behavior to be reprehensible and thinks that my friendship with him represents an all-out affront to progressive, independent women everywhere. I guess I should be more appalled, but I can't seem to bring myself to be. He's careful to separate these activities from the time he spends with me, and I'm pretty sure I know exactly why he acts like he does. Although, one time I asked him how many women it'd been, knowing that as dim as Collin wants everyone to think he is, not a single detail is ever lost on him. "Let's not go there, Raven," he'd said, and something in his tone told me it wasn't the time for pushing.

  Collin

  "C'mon, get your shit. Let's go. We'd better get out of here before you discover actual weapons like rocks and sticks." I'm kidding, but I realize too late the contrast between my joking words and my irritable tone. If Raven's sideways look of disappointment is any indication—she's noticed. I'm just acting like a dick because I don't want our time by this river to end. It just means that we're one day closer to everything ending. In spite of my shitty attitude, I would never do anything to purposely hurt her feelings. The few times I've suspected that I have, I bumbled around trying to make it right with her as fast as possible. She means more to me than anyone, even if I have no clue how to show her that.

  Raven jokes that I'm an asshole. She calls me one just about every other day, and she's right. I am an asshole. I'm that guy at the end of the bar that people watch, thinking, "No, she isn't really going to go home with that douchebag". Sorry, ladies and dudes, she is, and she will like it. She won't like me too much or for too long afterward, but please, let's not pretend we didn't all know what this was about from the beginning. I don't think she was fascinated by my mind, either. If my stepsister Reba were here, she'd offer up her five-semesters-toward-a-psychology-degree explanation and tell you that I have "daddy issues". Reba isn't often right, but I know when it comes to this, she isn't completely wrong either. I've got plenty of issues, and that's why I prefer to be alone most of the time, but I'm too selfish for that shit to matter when it comes to Raven. Her boyfriend openly hates me, most of her friends do too—all signs point to leaving this girl the hell alone, and yet she's the person I want to be around the most. When I'm with her I feel like I could share anything about myself, even if I rarely do. Some days seeing her is literally the only thing I look forward to.

  I feel like a ridiculous cliché even thinking this, but she's totally different from any other girl I've ever known. I know stuff like that has been said about girls a thousand times before, but when it comes to her, it's true. She cuts through all of my bullshit. She doesn't take crap from anyone, least of all me, and yet when I look at her it's the only time I see myself and don't have the desire to erase everything.

  Raven collects her things and then shoves all of it, except her guitar case, into my arms. Case in point: she doesn't put up with me. We hike back up the hill to where her little Honda Civic is parked. She gestures for me to throw the stuff in the trunk and I do, and then I slip in beside her in the front seat. As I flip through pictures I took today on the new digital camera in my lap, Raven's eyes fall to it for a brief moment before she turns to back her car out. "Anything good?"

  I tilt the camera toward me and zoom in on a photo I took of her looking down while she wades into the water, calf deep. Her dark hair is waving in the wind, curtaining the soft features of her face. Gorgeous. I click the screen off. "Hard to tell; I'll have to see how they look thrown up on a monitor." I'm not going to tell her that most of the nature shots I took today were filler, just to get to a few, sure to be incredible, pictures of her.

  I'm not as voyeuristic as I make it sound. Raven has posed for me a number of times and has always been surprisingly natural and calm about everything. It's usually my idea to take pictures of her, but during our sophomore year spring break, the tables turned. We went to the beach with a group of her friends. One night, after everyone else was in bed, we stayed up drinking and talking. She still had her swimwear on underneath a sundress and out of nowhere she asks me if I would take some photos of her in her bikini. I was worried at first, because we were definitely drunk, and a request like this from her was surprising, to say the least. She was emphatic that she could "handle it" and wouldn't be pissed at me for it later. She'd argued that college was the only time in her life she'd actually like photos of herself in swimwear. I doubted that, but when a hot girl is begging you to take pictures of her, it's a pretty tough thing to refuse. I made sure all of the angles were shot well, so she wasn't exposed in any way that made her feel uncomfortable or "too sexual," as she put it, and she had all the important stuff covered up. She has copies of all of them. I just take pictures for fun, so I don't really know if I can justify sentences like, "It's the best work I've done," but if I could get away with a comment like that, it's what I would say about those photos of her. What makes them so great is how confident and secure she was in each of them. For just a few minutes she let go of all her insecurities and was completely natural. I'm just the lucky idiot who got to be on the other end of the camera lens. We don't talk about that night, or those pictures, but I'll never forget what it was like to see her just own her beauty like that. Raven keeps encouraging me to do more about what she refers to as my artistic inclinations. She's the only person who really understands why being creative wasn't exactly welcomed in the household where I grew up.r />
  "Any big plans for tonight, Collin?" She shoves an uncooperative strand of hair behind her ear, and it almost immediately falls back toward her cheek.

  I turn away from her and stare out the window. We're surrounded by trees and fields, and I'm already dreading the barren concrete strip malls we'll soon pass on our way back to the apartment. No more island. Back to reality. "Dunno. Why? You have some ideas?"

  "I feel like we should do something college-y tonight." She grins and I grin in return. I can't help it.

  "Are they going to let you graduate using non-words like college-y?" I jab.

  She rolls her eyes at me. "You know what I mean, Collin. We should do something that we can only do on campus. We just have a few days left, and then college is over." Her eyes are on the road and mine are on her. The landscape behind her is racing by, providing an ever-changing canvas for her. We pass a marsh, the last stretch of brilliant green before we hit campus property, and I'm thinking about the long t-shirt she wore to bed last night in nearly the same shade. Everything looks beautiful on her, but she looks her best when she tries the least.

  "Like what, Raven? I reject this whole idea that we are experiencing some sort of definitive end to things. Everyone is so dramatic about it. So we get a diploma and our collective lease expires. Big whip. People act as though we'll cross the stage and become new people on the other side." I know I sure won't.

  Raven sighs as she collects her hair into a ponytail at the nape, twists it until it's tight, then releases it to uncoil rapidly across her shoulders. She plays with her hair like this occasionally when she's annoyed or frustrated and almost every time she has a problem she can't solve. I wonder if that's what I am to her—non sequitur, incongruent, immaterial even—the one person who doesn't fit. Raven likes it when things add up and go together just as they are supposed to. I shove my hand in my hair and grimace as the first strip mall comes into view.