Page 62 of Liberating Bells
Or I could tell her the truth. This is Izabel, my Bells. For so long, the one person I could count on in any situation. We’d sacrificed for each other and have been through so much. Andthough life took us down different paths, that kind of trust runs deep, the roots still holding firm.
And so, I tell her. I tell her everything, from the first moment my mom thought something was off, to the many doctors’ appointments, the tests, the biopsies, and finally the diagnosis. Then, I explained the realization I had that it was time for me to come back to the States.
Izabel listens, nodding, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. She doesn’t say anything until I’m finished. Instead, she reaches across the table, offering me her hand.
I take it, wrapping my fingers together with hers, and it feels sorightto have her here, sharing in my struggles, and offering her support silently. I’m struck then that this is what I miss the most about her. Not her laugh, or her kisses, or those sapphire blue eyes—though those are all things I love about her too. But her companionship. I miss my best friend. The closeness and intimacy that comes with knowing someone better than anyone else in the world. Having that relationship to fall back on in times like these, where you just want to know that they’ve got you. That they’re with you.
That’s why throughout the rest of the day, I don’t let go of her hand. I let Izabel lead me around Nashville with her fingers entwined tightly in mine. We go visit the Parthenon and marvel at the vastness of the architecture. Bells is like a kid in a candy shop, reading every word on the descriptive plaques, soaking up all the fun facts.
After we’re done with that, we head downtown and check out the music festival. A few big-name country artists perform, and Izabel loses herself in the music, dancing with me amongst the crowded street. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in years. We struggle through the crowds and have a late lunch by means of a food truck.
Izabel chooses a gyro truck, not my favorite food in the world, but I concede to make her Fourth of July trip all the better. I can’t help myself when a dribble of tzatziki sauce slips down her chin; I reach out, catch it with my thumb, and then lick it off.
Izabel watches my actions with amused eyes before she bursts into laughter. I laugh with her before she goes back to demolishing her lunch.
All day, I’m fighting my instincts to just lean over and kiss her. It takes everything in me to control the urge. That blissful smile on her face is making me fall in love with her all over again. I need her like I need the air I’m breathing.
Once evening hits, we meander over to Vanderbilt University. I’d read online last night that the tops of the parking garages here make a perfect firework viewing site. They overlook downtown, and then we don’t have to deal with the insane crowds.
There are a few cars here already, but I’m able to find a spot somewhat secluded. I’m sure the place will get busier as the evening drags on. I back my car into the spot, leaving plenty of room.
Izabel hops out of the car and scurries over to the edge of the parking garage, peeking over. She looks back at me with a weird expression on her face.
“What?” I ask, amused.
“We’re really high up,” she says, peering over the edge again. I chuckle and open up the trunk of my car, grabbing the wrapped-up blanket I keep in there.
I give it a quick shake and then lay it out over the rear windshield and trunk. This will have to do for tonight since I don’t have any chairs. I crawl up on top of my car and lean back, resting my head against the blanket. Not the most comfortable, but it will do.
The car dips a little bit as Izabel climbs up next to me. Her arm presses against mine as she settles in. Thankfully, the sun is starting to set. Otherwise, it would be hot as Hades on top of this garage. I tuck my arm under my head as a makeshift pillow and close my eyes. It’s been a long day.
I feel Izabel shifting around beside me. When I crack an eye open to spy on her, she’s wringing her fingers together on her stomach. She’s looking up at the sky, but it’s clear her mind is elsewhere.
“Where’s your head, pretty girl?”
She turns her eyes to me, hitting me with their soul-searing blue. “I don’t know. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?” She listened to my woes this morning, so the least I can do is return the favor.
Izabel tilts her head up, observing the sky silently, and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking about everything I have to do when we get back. Lesson planning for school, wedding planning—I’m supposed to be meeting with Mark’s mom and the planner next Wednesday, and I just…” She shakes her head. “I’d rather drown.”
I bite down the sharp pain that stabs through my heart at her words. It’s taken great strength for me to push the knowledge that Izabel is getting married to that bastard to the back of my brain. The image of her walking down the aisle to him makes me nauseous, and to hear her bring it up makes all of those feelings even worse.
On top of it, her verbalizing that she still intends to move forward with these plans—given everything that’s happened between the two of them—has me fisting my hands in irritation.
I manage to keep my tone level as I question, “That bad, huh?”
Izabel lets out a breathy laugh. “You don’t even know. She’s nothing like your mom.” We fall into a comfortable silenceagain, until Izabel asks me, “Are you scared? Of your mom being sick?”
“Of course. I don’t know how I couldn’t be.” I think about it. “Not really even so much for me. I mean, she’s the only parent I have left, but mostly for Thalia.”
“Thalia is still so young.”
I nod. “I know. I wasn’t much older than she is when my dad died, and you know how much that affected me.” Izabel is quiet, but I feel her gaze on me. “I just want her to be able to be a kid. She should be playing outside, getting dirty, having fun. She shouldn’t have to worry about cancer or losing her mom this young.”
Izabel reaches down beside us and retakes my hand, fitting it back to where it’s been all day. I suck in a deep breath and squeeze her fingers.
“You’re going to be an amazing dad someday, Ryan,” she says, taking me by surprise. “I’ve always thought so.”
