Slipping my hand in his, he pulls me to his lap. I wrap my arms around him and his lips find mine. His kiss is soft, warm and full of promise. His hands move everywhere . . . up my back, over my arms, on my hips. His kisses become harder and deeper until we both break for air, both feeling that familiar desire surfacing. Placing kisses up and down my neck, his lips slide along my collarbone and up my chin to my ear. He starts singing “Beach Side” in my ear, and, in the exhilaration of the moment, I forget all about videoing him. Next to kissing him, hearing River sing to me is the most romantic thing I’ve ever known.
For hours afterward we walked the beach, made sand castles and River even used shells to carve out moats around them. We chased each other through the surf and when he caught me he always picked me up and twirled me around before throwing me in the waves. After lunch we even bought a kite and kept it flying in the air for at least fifteen minutes. Now that evening is rapidly approaching and our perfect day is just about over, he begins to sing to me again. He has seemed more like himself today, still a little sad, still a little on edge, but all in all his demeanor is far improved.
As I sit in between his legs on top of a massive boulder, his song ends and he rests his forehead against mine and pulls away with one lone groan. I can’t help my grin. Knowing we’ve gone as far as we can on the public beach we turn to the west to watch the magnificent sunset. Sunrises and sunsets are among my favorite things and have always been my favorite things to photograph. I lean back into his chest and continue to snap pictures as he wraps his arms around me, kissing my head. I don’t want this perfect moment to end, and I know when we get home we have to talk. The fact that Ben is alive means that whether or not I want him in my life, we have to talk it through, figure out what it means that he’s not dead. Ben and I share more than a past, we share more than possessions, we share a family—Grace, Serena, and Trent. And even though I’m a little upset with Grace right now, they are just as big a part of my life as his.
He jostles me out of my thoughts when he whispers, “I’m going to miss days like these.”
“What do you mean?” I have to peer over my shoulder to see him.
“Us alone. No else one around. Days when it’s just you and me against the world.”
“We’ll still have that, River. Maybe not as often or for as long, but we will.”
Unsure where this conversation is headed, I wait for him to say more.
He kisses my temple and shifts his head down to my neck. “You know I don’t want to do this. Don’t you,” he murmurs into my ear and it’s not a question.
I need to look at him for this, so I rise up from in between his legs and move to sit beside him. Resting my head on his shoulder, I stay silent a long while. I know he’s talking about the tour, but I feel helpless to assist him in any way. He made his decision and I don’t want to add any stress to the already– large emotional load he carries. Looking up at him, I stroke his cheek with my fingers and say the only thing I can. “I know, River, I know. Why don’t you just tell Xander? Explain to him how you feel.”
There’s a haunted look in his eyes. “I can’t do that. I promised I would do this and I’m not going to break my promise.”
I hesitate a minute then ask, “Who did you promise?”
His body tenses and he inhales deeply. “Dahlia. I’ve never really explained how my dad died. Not that I haven’t wanted to, but more because the memory isn’t one I ever want to relive.”
One look at his somber expression, and compassion and pain swirl inside me and I fight to keep my own face expressionless. Beyond sympathy for him, for losing his father, I also feel my own remorse. For never having pushed him to tell me how his father died, other than the fact that he died from a gunshot wound when River was sixteen. I’m not sure why I never did; I could just tell it was something he didn’t want to discuss—and that was a feeling I knew well. My eyes lock on his and I give him a look that lets him know it’s okay to go on. That I’m here for him.
Letting out a long cleansing breath he starts to open up. “Xander and I promised our dad that we would do everything we could to be successful.”
Cupping his cheeks I say, “Every parent wants that for their child, and, River, you are successful.”
Sighing, he shakes his head. “No Dahlia, he was always pretty specific. He wanted us to hit it big in the music industry. It was his dream for himself but no matter how hard he tried to achieve it, he never could. He teetered close twice. The first time he cut an album and toured, but low sales and low attendance had him starting at square one. When I was fourteen he got a second chance, but by then he was too far gone. After that he never performed again and our family life changed forever until the day he killed himself and willed his dream on us.”
A wall of silence forms between us for a moment as my eyes widen in disbelief. Tears sting my eyes and I want to hold him, to comfort him, but can tell he wants to continue so I refrain. “I’m so sorry, River, I never knew. But I’m here. You can talk to me about it.”
Sniffing and looking toward the water he says, “Like I said, my dad was a dreamer, he always wanted to hit it big, but never could catch a break. I never even knew how unhappy he was for the longest time. He made us his life. Taught us everything he could. He tried to provide for us as best he could by teaching guitar lessons out of our house during the day and performing on the weekends. When I was about ten he started playing local joints at night and not coming home until late. It was about that time Grandpa started showing up secretly to slide my mom an envelope full of cash to buy groceries and whatever we needed. She took the money so my dad wouldn’t feel like what he was providing wasn’t enough. Xander used to get so mad at her for that. He thought she should just tell him, make him stop, but she never would. She wanted to believe he’d see his dream come true.”
My heart breaks a little more with every word he says and I comfort him in the best way I can. “Well your mom loved him, she wanted to be supportive and didn’t want to hurt him. That’s understandable.”
“Dahlia, that’s just it. That’s the ironic part, he was hurting all of us and Xander was the only one who saw it. My dad didn’t live in the real world and my mom didn’t make him. He lived in his dream world, a world where he was a star and he had started drinking to forget the reality of his situation. His drinking had gotten so bad that once my mom went back to work, Xander and I would try to sober him up before she got home. One day we came home after school and found him drunk and in bed with another woman. We cleaned him up and got the woman out of the house before our mom came home. My mom loved him and that would have killed her. He always said how much he loved her, too. But that was a funny way of showing it. Xander hated him after that. I loved him, I hated him, but most of all I pitied him.”
I caress River’s cheek and push down my sadness. “What you felt was only natural. You love your mother and didn’t want to see her hurt.” Not sure I want to hear the answer, but knowing I have to ask the question, I whisper, “What happened to him?”
Framing my face with his gentle hands, he looks deeply into my eyes. “Promise me that after I tell you, we never have to talk about it again.
“River, I promise,” I tell him, turning my head to kiss his hand.
My heart sinks as I prepare to listen to the rest of his story. His eyes sadden and his voice cracks as he tells it. “One day, Xander and I came home from basketball practice and dad was completely tanked. He had picked Bell up from school instead of having her go to her after-school program because he thought she needed more practice on the guitar. As soon as we walked in we could hear him. He was yelling at her, telling her she wasn’t playing the right chords and to do it again. She was crying and her fingers were bleeding, actually bleeding. As soon as Xander saw that, he lost it. He attacked my dad, punching him over and over and my dad didn’t return a single one, but Xander didn’t stop. He yelled for me to get Bell out of there and I did. I brought her to the neighbors, called my grandpa, and by the time I went back, my dad was dead.”