Page 80 of Fourth Wheel
Toward the end of our senior year at Harvard, Fielding declared he wouldn’t be going to medical school as planned. Instead, he decided he’d move back to Hampton to take care of our mom. It was an idea I had considered time and time again. He just came to the decision first.
If it was cancer or Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s or any other disease, we would have made the same choice.
He chose to pause his life, and I felt compelled to do the same. Sometimes I think he resents me for following him home, but in my heart of hearts, I know it was the right thing to do.
Brooke and I were already engaged by then. I had won an entrepreneurship grant, and she was eager to get her master’s degree in art history from NYU. When I told her about my plans to take care of my mom, she was all in.
She originally agreed to pause our wedding plans and take a gap year before getting her master’s. She was adamant that she would move to Hampton, and I moved into a separate wing of the house so we’d have our own space.
Plans were set. Her flight was booked. All her things were packed up and shipped to Ohio, and I’d started unpacking some of her stuff the week she was set to arrive.
But the day before her flight, she called and said she couldn’t do it.
She loved me, but she couldn’t wait around for an indefinite amount of time.
She wanted to be with me, but only if I could put her first.
She wasn’t willing to share the podium with my mom and my brother.
The logical part of me understood. And looking back, I know she made the right call. Fielding and I have existed in purgatory for the last four years. We’ve put our lives on hold with no timeline or frame of reference for when we’ll be able to move forward.
I don’t resent Brooke. But it was heartbreaking to realize the person I considered my ride or die wasn’t even willing to ride.
I pined after her for a long time. I wondered if someday, maybe—when my life was less messy. When I wasn’t responsible for anyone but me—maybe we’d find our way back to each other, and we could move forward with all the plans we had made in college.
Brookeusedto have what I thought was an unshakable hold on me. But I’ve learned what it means to have true, unconditional support. And I learned it all from the girl who came into The Oak and, honest to God, turned my world upside down.
Maddie showed me what it’s like to be unafraid. She taught me how to trust that someone could stand by my side, even when things are tough. She gave me space when I needed space. She was flexible when plans had to change.
How the hell Maddie Wheeler taught me more about life and love in the last few months than I’ve learned in the previous twenty-seven years of existence is beyond me.
I kiss her hair and pull her closer in the back of the SUV. She’s wearing one of my shirts, like she loves to do, under an oversized zip up hoodie she bought from a street vendor. It’s navy blue, with the word “Brooklyn” embroidered on the front in gray.
Holding her tight, I breathe in her strawberry sweetness. I’ve learned over the last several weeks that it’s not one product or perfume that gives her that summertime scent I love. It’s everything. She uses strawberry-scented hair products and strawberry champagne lip gloss. She sprays her sheets with a strawberry-lavender calming mist, and she even has a little strawberry-shaped air freshener in her car.
I’ll never smell, eat, or see a strawberry again and not think of her.
We sit in silence, and I savor the way she fits. In the crook of my arm. In the bleakness of my life. She forced her way in and made herself at home.
I play with her hair and watch the cityscape disappear in the distance, pretending that this summer—this moment in time, this feeling of warmth and joy, love and belonging—that it could last a lifetime.
Except a lifetime isn’t an option. We have three weeks, she and I. Three weeks until she goes back to California. Three weeks until I make the choice I’ve always made, putting my mom and my brother first.
“We’re here, Mr. Haas,” Glenn announces from the front seat.
And just like that, our trip is over. Our summer is coming to an end. Our time together is vanishing like sand through my fingers. I’m not ready for this to be over. But I have to let her go.
Chapter 41
Maddie
Dempseydroppedmeoffat home yesterday afternoon, and we stayed at our own houses last night. Thankfully, I made it back in time for the Wheeler family Zoom call since I hadn’t actually told anyone I was out of town. My parents would have asked twenty questions about who I was with and what we saw and ate in the city. Then Rhett would have pushed for the details I’m not willing to share.
As soon as our Zoom call ended, I locked up the house, showered, and put myself to bed. I hadn’t slept at all on Saturday night, and I’d only napped on and off on the plane.
Now it’s Monday, late afternoon, and I’ve done a fantastic job ignoring everyone and everything all day long.
I’ve spent most of the day in the pool to keep myself from being glued to my phone. This way, I haven’t been tempted to text or call him, or to look through the few hundred pictures saved on my camera roll from this weekend.
