Page 63 of Conception
“I shouldn’t say this, yet I’m going to anyway.” I pause, my heart racing. “For the past four years, I’ve only been existing. This summer? With you? I finally feel alive again.”
His eyes give nothing away and I wonder if I’ve said too much.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, either, but yeah, I’m with you. I can’t remember the last time I felt this—if I ever have.”
His words make my heart both soar and slump. I don’t know how to respond without going too far. What was supposed to be simple, insignificant, has turned into something more profound that I never expected.
Knox breaks the silence. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I don’t hesitate. I tell Knox about the super cell Dad and Mom were chasing that late July evening.
While my dad was a meteorologist, he wasn’t an expert storm chaser. He considered it more of a hobby, something he and Mom could do together. He’d get the exhilaration of the chase; she’d capture Mother Nature’s fury. A win-win for them both. For me, it was the best of both worlds.
The treacherous storm that day came out of nowhere, as they often do during the summer in Tennessee. One second, we were enjoying a family day at the beach; the next, our bodies were pelted in a torrential downpour. Dark clouds rolled in and lightning flashed off in the distance. We hightailed it to the family station wagon, where Dad asked Mom if the camera was in the car. Seeing as she rarely left the house without it, she reached into the back seat and held it up with a triumphant smile, one Dad returned. He flipped the radio on, turning the dial until a weather bulletin came over the speakers.
As soon as he heard the words “funnel cloud ten miles east of Crystal Cove,” we were off.
What happened next remains a blur. I’ve experienced it countless times in my nightmares, but the memory is never quite clear. It’s not vague enough to fade, either.
The only reason I survived was because I chose to sit in the back of the station wagon so I could watch the storm from the opposite direction. The impact of the tree crushed the car like it was a cheap tin can. My parents didn’t stand a chance. I was supposed to find solace in the fact that they likely died instantly.
But how do you find solace in the face of death?
“You always hear people say things like ‘at least they died doing something they loved’ and I get it. It makes sense. But sometimes I wonder why they had to love doing something so dangerous? And why did I survive but they didn’t?”
Survivor’s guilt wasn’t something I’d ever heard of. Not until Grams insisted I see a grief therapist. Only then did I start to understand that what I was feeling was common for someone who has gone through what I did.
“I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose anyone close to you, especially your own parents. But I knowyou, Amelia. Your parents would never have wanted you to have died with them. They’d be proud of the woman you’ve become. Your spirit, your passion—everything about you is a testament to them. And as long as you live, they’re a part of you. They’ll always be with you.” He squeezes my hand in emphasis.
I long to tuck into his warm embrace, for him to envelope me in a safe cocoon and never let him go.
But I can’t.
I blink tears back and gaze up at him, hating the pity I see in his eyes. “You think you know me?”
“Yeah, Melia. I think I know you real well.”
I can’t help the coy smile that crosses my lips. “I suppose that’s probably true.”
“Thank you for opening up to me,” he says, and something sparks inside me when I know he means it.
It’s not fair.
“Knox, you once told me not to fall in love with you. And I promised myself—and you—I wouldn’t. But you have to promise me something, too.”
Brooding eyes search mine, and I don’t know if I can say it out loud. I don’t know if it’ll be giving too much away. But in this moment, I don’t care.
“Anything, Amelia,” he answers, his tone husky.
“Please don’tmakeme fall in love with you.”
FUCK.
This is the moment I should disengage. Take a step back. Tell her it’s not possible. But I don’t.
There’s something about this moment that feels different.
Her earnest words make me want to do the opposite of what she’s requesting. I’m not sure if it’s her vulnerability from the storm, the way she finally opened up to me about something she hasn’t told anyone else, or the intimacy of the dark cave, but her words don’t alarm me. Perhaps it’s because we’re a world away from everything else and whatever happens in this cave is just between us, even if only for this short amount of time.
