Always Late

“I’m sorry!”

His voice echoed, bounced off the sides of surrounding houses and disappeared into dusk. It was so quiet he could hear his heart throbbing in his chest, his lungs expanding and collapsing rapidly in anticipation. He had no idea if she was listening, or even home. But it became a ritual and he would feel incomplete if he didn’t do this whenever he was in town. She didn’t need to accept his apology, not now and not ever, he knew that much. What they experienced together was as close to perfection as he could taste and he carelessly threw it away. However, that didn’t mean he could ever forget her and everything she let him figure out.

Her lights were never on anymore. Her parents had moved on, left the house in her name, and were somewhere in Europe. She would receive a postcard every few months and it was always filled with her mother’s beautiful script detailing wonderful adventures she had only ever read and dreamed about. She lived for romantic, grandiose gestures. Some people would say that ruined her outlook on life but she, as well as those closest to her, never saw the fault in it. The stories she read fueled her outlook, further raised the bar of who and what she deemed acceptable. The boy outside her window nearly every night once filled every expectation she had but he shattered that image and she no longer cared for him. Or his incessant yelling.

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dejected and defeated. His eyes were trained on her window that remained black and void. His hopes were still high because regardless of the crestfallen heart in his chest, his stubborn mind wouldn’t let him give in. When his eyes flickered to the front door, from his peripheral vision he caught sight of the curtains in her window flutter. She was home. She had always been home. He slowly ascended the porch steps, feet light against the weatherworn planks of wood. Sitting on the swing, he stared ahead at nothing in particular and waited.

“John?”

Her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen before. They were light and golden, sunkissed, but they were flecked with a blue as deep and calm as the ocean. The curls in her hair were falling out into loose waves – whether that was its natural state he had no idea – and it reached down to the ends of her shoulder blades. She had a little nose, full lips, and tan skin. She was petite, much smaller than he was, but he adored that.

He wasn’t a believer in love at first sight but she gave that saying a run for its money.

Realizing his face was softer and showing more emotion than he ever allowed, he managed his trademark rockstar smirk. “You must be Emery.”

Obviously displeased now, she gently closed her hefty-sized book and placed it on the tabletop, next to her steaming mug of green tea. “It’s Em-er-ee, not Em-or-ee. And you are 35 minutes late.”

He looked at his phone, as if he hadn’t already realized his tardiness. When he looked at her again, his eyes were pleading, sparkling in the sunlight. He had mastered the puppy eyes. “Really? I am so sorry. I usually have my clocks set a few minutes ahead so this doesn’t happen. You know, so I’m not late for practice, or a gig.”

She still wasn’t pleased and he noticed her subtle twitch toward her bag. She was plotting her escape. He quickly slid into the chair across from her, reached out and placed his hand over hers. Her eyes hardened, the gorgeous shine disappearing from them. He loosened his grip, leaned away slightly to give her some space, and smiled. A genuine smile.

“Don’t make me look like an ass to Garrett,” he pleaded.

She glared across the table but he noted the sparkle had returned to her eyes. “Don’t make me regret listening to my cousin.”

He smirked as he took his hand back. He swiped the letter X over his heart, then held his hands up in surrender. “You won’t regret meeting me.”

He woke up with a startle. He had dozed off and slumped over on the porch swing. It was dark now, the sun completely gone beyond the horizon. Lights sprinkled the neighborhood like stars in the sky. Her house remained empty. He squared his jaw and held in the sigh he wanted desperately to let out.

He stood, shook his legs out to regain feeling in them, then stumbled down the steps. Looking up at her window again, he felt his lips turning downward at the edges. She frustrated him to no end. She always had and she always will. He felt the familiar, dull pain start between his eyes and knew that if he stayed much longer it would progress into a full-blown migraine.

“I’m sorry, Emery,” he shouted again. Anyone walking by would think him crazy, shouting at a seemingly empty house. But he knew better. He always knew better. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The curtains made no movement and he began to think he had only imagined it before. Maybe she wasn’t home at all. Maybe she wasn’t even in town anymore. He shook his head to himself because he knew her. He knew she wasn’t ready to leave Arizona to explore the great unknown. She wasn’t ready to travel like he did, or like her parents did. She was grounded. She didn’t need anything else.

He pulled his jacket closer to his body. There was something different about tonight. Whether it was a good different or a bad different was unknown, but it was different and something was going to happen. He knew he hadn’t imagined the curtain moving. She was home and she was going to make her appearance known tonight. He zipped his jacket, ignored the buzzing phone in his pocket, and stared. He stared upward and prayed for her beautiful face to appear in the window like every time before.

He took a few jumps to rid his body of nerves, then bent down. He turned the smooth pebble in his fingers a few times before gaining the courage to toss it at her window. He missed. He scrounged through the grass for another and tried again. This time he made it, but she didn’t respond. He tried again and again, until finally she pushed the window up and stuck her top half out. He smirked as he held up a bouquet of daisies.

They had been dating for two months. Two months and he knew her like the back of his hand. She was perfect; gentle, kind, smart, funny, and shy. Everything he wasn’t and therefore everything he needed in order to balance his life. Without any word, she slammed her window shut and raced downstairs. She threw open the front door, ran across the porch, and leaped into his arms.

It might have been two months and she might have trusted him with her life, but she was reserved. She had refused to kiss him until the moment was right. When he initially protested, she explained her storybook ideals. Although he didn’t fully understand her investment in fairytales, he didn’t vocalize it. He accepted it as part of her charm.

By the third month, though, her fairytale was put in jeopardy. She noticed he became more distant and disrespectful of her choices. He had never pressured her into things before but his patience was running out. And by month four, they were arguing. Daily arguments occurred because of one thing or another, most of the time over petty little details like where to eat or go on a date. The arguments grew to bigger subjects, like his upcoming departure.

“You can come with me,” he promised, tired of the fight already. She knew she was invited along and that he would never purposely leave her behind. And she knew, without a doubt, that he would never forget about her.

“I don’t want to,” she stressed. “I don’t have a desire to see anything else. Phoenix is my home and it’s all I ever need.”

He was losing his temper now. She had never been outside of Arizona, how would she know it’s all she would need? There were so many places just waiting to be discovered, lessons to be learned, adventures to have. And she would rather stay in one place for the rest of her life.

“If that’s what you want, fine,” he said sternly, shoulders shrugged upward, tense. “I can’t make you do anything. But there’s so much out there and I’m not giving up this opportunity. You knew this would happen when you met me. You knew this was part of the deal.”

She remained silent, her golden eyes watering and staring into his emeralds, stoic and unfaltering. She wanted to try exploring the world and seeing things from his perspective – hell, even from her parent’s point of view – but she had no aspiration. She remained silent.

He shook his head, “I’m leaving.”

He headed for her door, slowly. He needed her to change her mind and he was going to give her every second possible to voice her change of heart. It wasn’t coming. It never would. So he turned the knob and stepped onto her porch, the door wide open so she could watch him leave.

“Come back!”

Her body collided with his before he had the chance to face her. Her arms were tightly wrapped around him and she cried into the back of his shirt. He managed to turn around. He kissed her forehead and dried her cheeks, but he didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t be joining him and that was final. The resolve to the argument was found within their embrace.

Until one day, the resolve never came.

“I hate the way you think,” he sneered in the midst of an argument. An argument that occurred less than two hours after his return from a tour in Asia. “You are such a child. The world isn’t black and white and you need to realize that. This all started as a game to me, you know that? I wanted to see how long this would last, because you were something to chase and have fun with. Garrett never told me you were so wrapped up in this utopian state of mind. Wake up, Emery. This is the 21st century. Prince Charming doesn’t exist anymore. And even if he did, he is never coming for you.”

He ate his words when he saw the tears gathered on her eyelashes. He wanted to take it back, hold her in his arms and soothe her. Before he could make a move forward, in attempt to right his wrong, she had already opened her mouth to retort back.

“Why don’t you just drop dead.”

Then she turned, crossed through the yard, and wandered a few houses down the street to her cousin’s residence.

“Emery,” he said to her window. He was going home for the night. It was late and he had an early morning and busy day ahead of him. He loved her but life had to go on. “I’m going home now. I know you hate me and you have every right to. I love you, Emmy.”

With one last glance at her window, he turned and headed for his truck. He paused by the hood of his white beatup truck and placed his hands on the cool metal. His fingers found the familiar dings and dents from typical wear and tear. He closed his eyes when his breath caught, the anger catching up to him. He kicked the tire as hard as he could before spinning around and giving one last shout.

“Come the fuck outside, Emery! I know you’re home!”

His face flushed as his words once again echoed through the neighborhood. A thick silence fell as his words floated toward the sky. It was as if everything had stopped in light of his outburst, waiting on baited breath to see if she would come out. But after a few seconds of nothing, the world resumed and his heart wavered.

He would try again tomorrow.

“Garrett, please,” he begged. “You know I’m an idiot and say things I instantly regret. Just let me explain that to her.”

Garrett eyed his friend. There were things he could tolerate and things he couldn’t. And this happened to be one of the few things he certainly could not tolerate. No one messed with his family, no matter how extended. Emery had requested a strict no-contact barrier to be set up with Garrett and his older brother Trey. They were to keep John away from her.

Trey had been wary at first, so he inquired, “For how long?”

“Forever, if that’s what it takes for him to forget me,” she had said. “I don’t want someone in my life that doesn’t respect my thoughts.”

And Garrett was going to honor that.

He sighed, disheartened, and sheepishly looked up at his friend. “I’m sorry, man. She said no.”

But John wasn’t ready to take no as an answer. Staying out of her life, forgetting about her – that wasn’t an option. So with or without Garrett’s help, he would make it known just how sorry he was. In four months, he had fallen in love. He fell in love with her personality, unique eyes, effortless hair, carefree style, and sweet laugh. Most of all, he loved her ideas and morals and traditional mannerisms. However, he hated himself because he had lied to her. Prince Charming did exist, and he had royally messed up with his Princess.

“Just – Just tell her I’m sorry.” John finally ceased.

Garrett nodded and, without another word, closed the door.

He climbed pitifully into his truck and placed his keys in the ignition. He didn’t turn the ignition. Instead, he set his hands on the steering wheel and sighed. After a few minutes, he decided it would be best to leave. With his fingers hesitating by his dangling keys, headlights flooded his vision and broke his concentration. When the car drove into her driveway, anger boiled inside his chest. After months of not seeing her, he hated how his breath caught at the sight of her. Her appearance hadn’t changed much after their last fight; her eyes weren’t red and puffy and she hadn’t started to dress sloppily – in fact, she was even more stunning than the day they met. And it was infuriating.

The anger grew when he saw whom she was with. Irate, he stormed out of his truck and rushed up the driveway like a tornado, ready to take down anyone that stood in his way. “Kennedy?” he bellowed. “You’re out with God damned Kennedy?”

Her face remained emotionless, although Kennedy’s was quite the opposite. She wasn’t afraid of John. He had ruined her. He had taken her entire life and turned it completely upside down. He had shaken her in so many ways, dislodged her personality and figured out secrets no one else knew. He took those precious pieces of her and she thought he had cherished them. Instead, he used them against her and disrupted everything she believed in.

“We’re friends,” she replied slowly. “And we went on a date, so what?”

“So what?” he challenged. “So what? I’ll tell you ‘so what.’ You’re supposed to be mine. I’m so fucking in love with you, I’ve been standing out here for hours shouting at your empty, dark house. I’ve been torturing myself because I don’t deserve you but I want to try.”

He saw her eyes darken, much like they had on the day he first met her. She licked her lips in anticipation. “I’m supposed to be yours?” she questioned, the distaste evident in her tone. “Prince Charming doesn’t exist, remember John? That’s what you told me. I’m sorry I ever thought you could be mine, specifically. You lost your chance, not once but multiple times. Every argument was one more chance lost. You’re always late, remember John?”

“So – So, Kennedy is your Prince, then. And that’s it?”

“Prince Charming doesn’t exist!”

This time, it was her voice that echoed through the neighborhood. Kennedy, frightened to be in the middle of this confrontation, reached over and gently wrapped his hand around two of her fingers. She blinked rapidly, the shine returning to her eyes, and her head turned to look at him. He leaned in, whispered in her ear, and she nodded. With one last look at John, she tugged Kennedy’s hand and they approached her front door.

And John watched. He watched the girl of his dreams slipping out of his fingers. He felt his heart racing and his palms grow sweaty. The sight before him was crushing him. Kennedy placed both of his hands against her cheeks, lightly cupping her face so she wouldn’t break focus on his words. But by the look on her face, the smile that sat pretty on her lips, there was no need for his hands to brace her attention. She smiled and nodded at the words he spoke and then her body was rising onto her toes.

Her lips met Kennedy’s in what he could only assume was a breathtaking, electrifying first-ever first kiss. He returned to his truck, too torn to watch any longer. He could have sworn he knew her better than this. But apparently, she was the one that knew him better. He was always late.