Page 78 of Lovestruck at Sundown
After we were done with our presentation, another group followed us, and then we were dismissed.
When Nolan and I stepped out of our classroom, I spotted Aaron lingering nearby, which was odd. He usually waited for me outside of school since it’d been understood his job as my bodyguard was more of a requisite imposed by my father rather than a necessity now.
My gaze fixed on his as a silent dread crept up my spine. Was something wrong? He frowned and followed close behind in silence after Nolan pulled my arm and told me to stop acting funny.
“A friend who took the Art History exam today said it’s multiple choice,” Nolan said as we walked out of the building and headed toward the exit. We had to take that one exam thenext day and then we’d be done with the fall semester.
“Wasn’t planning on studying anyway,” I said with a laugh. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” There was no way I’d be able to set aside time to study when William was arriving.
Aaron’s pace was steady. He was walking so close I could almost listen to his heavy footsteps behind us. Something was up, and he wasn’t telling me. I could feel it, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
Suddenly, a soft breeze gusted around us, making a few strands of my hair fly in my face, and it reminded me of that day I visited Caleb’s grave in Tel Aviv and of how the soft wind blowing that day caressing my face made me think it was his way of “talking” to me.
“Caleb,” I whispered with a smile, brushing my hair off my face.
“Come again?” Nolan lifted a brow and looked at me like he was a second away from taking my temperature.
“Nothing.” I pressed my lips together but couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“I heard what you said.” He readjusted his backward cap. “Are you seeing ghosts now?”
I elbowed him in the ribs but imagined his comment would’ve made Caleb laugh.
“Ouch!” He laughed. “No, seriously. What happened?”
I stopped walking abruptly, and Aaron almost bumped into us.
Jesus.
“Sorry, Miss,” he apologized and took a couple of steps back, his neck turning from side to side as he remained “on the lookout” with his bodyguard stance firmly in place.
“What’s going on, Aaron?” I asked with a wary frown. “Why are you being weird today?”
“Everything’s fine, Miss,” he said drily, his features untelling.
“Fine.” I didn’t have the energy to entertain this. I turned to Nolan and leaned in to whisper, “Promise you won’t think I’m crazy if I tell you.”
“I already think you’re crazy.” He shrugged.
“Nolan!” I shoved his shoulder. “I’m being serious about this.”
“You can tell me anything,” he said with a laugh. “You know that much.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “When I visited Caleb’s grave in Tel Aviv, this … soft breeze kept blowing when I was talking to him, and it kinda felt like it was his way of replying to me.”
Nolan stared at me.
“You think I’m crazy.”
He chuckled. “No, not at all. I’m thinking about what you just said.”
“For instance,” I kept whispering, “seeing Aaron standing outside our classroom when he never does anymore made me feel a bit uneasy, and then this gust of wind blew in my face, and it felt like it was Caleb telling me not to worry, that everything’s okay.”
Nolan’s gaze fixed on mine as he bobbed his head in understanding. “I saw this show earlier this year,” he started to say, “about people saying that right after one of their loved ones passed, a beautiful bird would fly into their home and stay there, allowing them to pet it, which is strange for birds. And claiming it would appear again on special dates and stuff like that.”
“Oh, wow,” I replied with fascination. I’d never had anything special or symbolic happen when my mom died. When she passed, the emptiness left behind by her absence didn’t allow me to even think that there could be traces of her still hovering among us. She wasgone, and the feeling of it wasso intense that I don’t think I ever dared to attempt to see her in the simple things of my everyday life. It was easier for me to let go and process my grief if I didn’t allow myself to think that way. It was as if I was trying my best to stop thinking of her, to forget her, hoping the pain would dissipate, even if I knew that would never happen.
It wasn’t until recently that I stopped to think of her whenever I looked up at the night sky. To consider if somehow she could see me. But mostly, all I did in the past years was learn to live with that wound and find a way to tend to it when needed.
