Begin Again

Sunlight bounces off the reflection of the emerald stream as I dip my toes into the frigid water. It’s May in Florida and the temperature outside has reached ninety, but the spring is still freezing, and the icy sting thrums straight to my heart. I watch the water ripple by, then crash into some rocks. Laughter erupts beside me as a group of teenagers start tossing inflatable tubes into the spring and launching their bodies into them.

"Aw hell no! I'm gonna get frozen!" a guy calls out after his friends, who have already started drifting down the river.

"C'mon, wait up!"

An invisible string tugs at my heart as I take in the scene. It almost feels like traveling back in time, standing here watching them. The water is like glass, and when I see my reflection, I can't help but imagine him next to me. It’s been thirteen years since the first time I was here, ready to fall into a tube on this tree-lined path and float down it with the only person I've ever been in love with. I blink and the mirage vanishes.

Maybe floating down a lazy river alone the day before my best friend's wedding isn't a good idea after all.

Oaky moss and sunscreen mix in the air and settle in my lungs. I hear another rowdy group coming up behind me. If I want to do this in peace, it's now or never. I drop my float into the water and plunge into it. The current is strong and I start floating instantly, steering clear of a tugboat-sized rock jutting out of the middle of the spring. The first time I was here, my tube slammed into it and got stuck. I was with friends from school, and most of them were too far downstream to help. Curtis was right behind me though, and as I spun in uncoordinated circles, scream-laughing and trying to free myself, his float crashed into mine, dislodging it back into the river.

"Grab my hand so you don't get stuck," I'd called out to him, and he did.

We'd been casual friends at school, always in the same circle, but never close. The second his hand was in mine though, there was a shift, like a lock clicking into place. He must have felt it too, because even when we glided into smoother waters, neither of us let go. Not even when we caught up with our friends down the stream.

Not until the day we said goodbye.

Curtis and I fit together like sea salt and caramel. Not quite opposites, but definitely not the same enneagram either. Our years together were marked by ordinary days, where I'd sit and read on a blanket while he practiced whatever hobby he'd taken up at the time–sketching, geocaching, photography–and the mini-adventures he'd plan for us in between. Like a day drive to the Everglades or an afternoon trip to the sunken gardens. When it came time to think about college though, it was no longer enough for his restless soul. I wasn't shocked when he decided to spend the summer after senior year backpacking around Europe. Or when he planned to move to California for college while I stayed in Florida. I just chose not to think about it until the time came, letting myself believe it would all work out.

An egret wades in the shallow water ahead of me and as I float past, we make eye contact. It seems to sense my longing, and its calming presence reminds me to relax my grip on the handle of my tube. This wasn't supposed to be easy, but it's not punishment either. I close my eyes and let the memories wash over me.

After Curtis returned from his trip that summer, we were both so afraid of what long distance would do to us when he left for California, we decided to make a clean break. If it was meant to be, we'd find our way back to each other. That's what we decided together. But college came and went, and we haven't seen each other since.

Tomorrow that changes.

I open my eyes as the river speeds up over a rocky pass and it flashes in my mind, the way this always made him throw back his head, his infectious grin gazing upward, water droplets on his lashes, azure eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

"Isla," he'd say, "I love adventure!"

I wonder if he still loves adventures or if he's settled for good in New York. I've taken the safe road. College, career, a fluffy white cat named Biscuits. I’m comfortable, like I always wanted. But if I had to guess, I bet Curtis has done a lot of living. Thanks to the fact that in twenty-fours hours, my best friend, Mel, is marrying his cousin, Adrian, I’m aware of bits and pieces about his life now, but they don't overshare about his persona life. I know he left California and moved to Colorado and then New York. I know he’s a full-time photographer. I know he's also going solo to the wedding.

I don't know how I could handle it otherwise.

As the weeks led up to today, I realized that if I could make it through this literal trip down memory lane in the form of the rocky spring where it all began, I can handle seeing him for all the wedding festivities.

I wade my fingers in the cool water as I approach the point on the river where I could anchor my float and walk down a dream-like path. My heart clenches at the thought, because doing this is hard enough, and that would be too much. My eyes drift closed instead as the current slows back down, and my memory reel begins again.

Our second time going down the river together was when Curtis noticed the little path among the brush.

"Let's check it out," he'd said.

I gasped in protest. "That's how people get eaten alive by alligators, Curtis. I can imagine the headline: Florida teens skip school and get attacked by 12-foot gator."

Curtis laughed, his cheeks rosy, eyes lit up by the sun. "I’ll check it out first. Make sure it’s safe."

We'd grabbed onto some low hanging branches and set our tubes on the sand at the opening of the path. I stood there, waiting expectantly for a shriek for help.

Instead, he called out, "Isla, you've got to see this.”

"Is it a bloodthirsty reptile?" I said, “because, if so, no thanks.”

"It’s even cooler than that."

I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn’t resist. The sandy trail to find him was narrow and I had to duck most of the way to avoid the lush branches above, but when I found him, he was standing at the foot of a tiny waterfall.

I smiled up at him. "I didn't know we had waterfalls in Florida."

He took a step toward me. "You can learn a lot from a mini adventure."

My heart swirled in my chest like the vines above us. I'd always thought Curtis was cute, but I wasn't the type to seek out relationships. Even the idea of kissing someone seemed overwhelming to me up until that moment, standing in a secret cove, where suddenly the heat of the day felt all-encompassing.

"I've never seen a waterfall before," I said.

He grinned at me, shy, and affection raced through me like the current of the spring. "Me either."

"And,” I said, “I’ve never kissed anyone before."

We each took one more step forward, and he dipped his head down until our faces were only an inch apart.

"Can I," he’d asked, “kiss you now?”

I answered by pressing my lips to his.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts by a toddler screeching in glee as her tube passes mine. I touch my face and feel tears waterfalling down my cheeks. No matter how many years have gone by, my heart still aches for him sometimes. In these tiny moments that are just my own but feel like they should be ours.

I glide along, out from under the shade of the driftwood. Sunlight dries my tears, but my heart is fragile. Like if I’m not careful, this whole plan will collapse in on itself. I float past a silver-haired couple in matching palm frond button-ups, sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the river, one working on a crossword, the other reading a paperback. Playing from a small bluetooth speaker between them, the chords of an old love song fills the humid air. The ache in my chest solidifies into something rocky and coarse. Curtis’s mini-adventure to California was supposed to be temporary. I knew, on some level, that if I followed him, we could pick up where we left off. The idea of the hustle and bustle of a big city was too much for me though and my grandfather was sick. I needed a quieter pace, so I just stayed here, where I’ve always been. Where it’s safe, as long as I stay out of harm's way from heartbreak and alligators. We tried keeping in touch, but his life went on while mine seemed to remain stagnant. School, work, looking after Gramps. Before I knew it, they were both gone for good.

I kick at the water, my lavender toenails covered in glassy droplets. Maybe I should have known he wasn't going to come back. After all, on that morning after we spent the night together for the last time, we'd cried and kissed and then agreed we would turn and walk away and not look back. It was mutual, an attempt to make it easy on each other.

But I had turned back, I couldn’t help it.

He didn't.

The stone forming in my chest begins to combust, catching fire. Why didn't he turn back for me?

Unexpected flames burn through me, at how easy it was for him to go, but I let it run its course instead of tamping it down. I refused to let it break me then, and I won't let it now. No matter how potentially hot he's going to look in wedding attire. No matter how much my heart may break at the muscle memory of seeing him but not touching him. When I hear his voice. The way he said my name, like it was an adventure all its own.

A whole different kind of fire sparks in my chest at the thought.

The end of the river comes too soon. By the time I flop out of my tube, the fire has burned out. I stare back upstream and let it ripple over me one last time. The joy, the pain, the heartache. Sometimes I wonder what it would like to be somewhere else. I’ve been meaning to plan a mini adventure for a long time, but I don’t really know how. Maybe that’s what this trip down the river was always supposed to be about. Maybe it wasn’t just me preparing to see the man who I thought was the love of my life. Maybe it’s a sign.

The river keeps moving, and so should I.

I gather my bag and float and begin the hike back to my car. I’m not sure I’ll come back again, but I’m glad I did today. Starting tonight, wedding chaos will begin, and the weekend will go by in a flash. I needed this time. Just for me.

As I’m descending down a steep walkway, I lose the grasp on my towel and stop to readjust. As I right myself, I catch a glimpse of a man in a light blue swimsuit, pale and slender, blowing up a tube just off the trail. I think my mind must be playing tricks, because there’s no way he's here, but then, as if he feels it too, he turns toward me. His eyes lock on mine and we both stand there, staring for a moment. We each take several steps toward each other, in sync, just like we’d always been.

“Hi,” he says, stopping in front of me. The sound of his voice makes my heart swell so much, I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.

“Hi,” I stammer out. He nearly reaches his hand out to me but then pulls it back to his side. I search his eyes, and I don’t even need to ask what he’s doing here.

“Isla,” he says, and my heart still reacts to hearing him say my name as if he never stopped. He looks like he has too many words stuck in his throat, and I understand because I feel the same way. His hands are restless, while I’m frozen.

Finally, he gestures toward the springhead. “How was it?”

Not the same, I want to say. Something was missing. You were missing. I think it all, but the words don’t come out.

“Cathartic,” I say, instead.

His eyes roam all over my face, familiar and new at the same time. “Is that all?”

A single tear cascades down my cheek. “No.”

He takes another step forward and we move into each other's arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he says into my hair.

I inhale deeply. “You smell the same.”

He laughs, the same rich laugh that’s imprinted on my heart. “So do you.”

In a way, I can't believe he's here. On the other hand, I'm not surprised at all.

“How long are you visiting?”

He runs his hand through his dark waves. “I actually bought a one-way ticket.”

I hold in a gasp. “You're not going back to New York?”

“I've been thinking for a while that I'm ready for a new adventure. Since I was coming for the wedding, I thought I'd stay awhile.”

My heart is thumping in my chest, and we're still in a half-embrace.

“Then what?”

“Not really sure,” he says, “I figured I'd start here.”

It takes my brain a moment to process that he means here, at the springs, and not here in my arms. I force myself to take a step back.

“Right. I should let you go,” I say, mentally preparing to walk away.

He has that look again, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how to begin. I should be moving, but I'm not. It's like I'm lodged in place, with so much unsaid between us.

“Curtis,” I sputter, another tear leaking out. “Why didn't you look back?”

Anguish engulfs his sharp features. He knows what I mean without an explanation.

“I couldn't,” he says, hand raking down his chin. “I was about to, but I knew if I did, I wouldn't leave. And I knew I had to go, for both of us.”

I'm a data analyst. I live by logic. We were young, on different paths, and the long-distance odds were statistically against us. I know this because I researched it endlessly back then.

That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though.

“I know,” I say. I don't look directly at him, my eyes zeroed in on flamingos dotting my flip flops instead. After he left, life just felt like going through the motions for a while, until I got too busy to think about it all the time. That was a lifetime ago though, and now that he's back, standing in front of me, my sense of logic is glitching.

His thumb gently brushes my chin and lifts my face back to his. “But, Isla, I've spent the better part of the past thirteen years looking back anyway.”

Something new blooms, bold and bright in my chest. Something like hope. Like an old habit, I wrap my arms back around him. He tangles his fingers in my hair, and I bury my head in the same spot I used to, at the crook of his neck. It still fits, and I melt into him.

“I really should let you go,” I say into his shirt, “the river awaits.”

He pushes my sweaty bangs off my forehead and meets my eyes. “What if I don't want you to let me go this time?”

Logic returns like a bolt of lightning. Even though this feels like opening a time capsule and discovering I love the items I placed in it just as much as when I buried them, I know we can’t just start over. We have too much history for a blank slate. We can’t pick up where we left off either, too much time has passed.

“You don't feel like you need to do this alone?” I ask.

His thumb rubs my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “I'm pretty sick of doing things without you.”

I'm an ice cream cone melting on the pavement.

“Me too,” I admit. I think of the ache I feel whenever his face flashes on my social media, or Mel and Adrian mention him. An alarm sounding in my heart, reminding me I never really stopped loving him. “But where would we even begin?”

“To start, we get to know each other again, as we are now?”

I'm buzzing and frayed and grounded all at once. I came here to force myself to let go. I never imagined the possibility of a second chance instead. I look up at him and smile through tears. He holds my cheeks in his hands, gentle as ever, lips grazing my forehead.

“Want to come on a mini adventure with me?” he asks, pointing back up toward the springhead.

“I suppose someone needs to be there in case there’s an alligator incident,” I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

“And someone should be around in case your tube gets stuck on a rock.”

I nudge him and smile. We gather our things, and together we hike back up the trail.