Page 3 of When We Are Complete
Kelly
I glancedown Main Street as I stop outside the grocery store, half-expecting to seehimleaning against a lamppost or stepping out of the hardware store, hands in his pockets. I shake the thought off. It’s silly to think he’d even remember me, let alone be waiting here after all these years.
The bell above the convenience store door chimes as I slip inside. Fluorescent lights hum overhead and my gaze sweeps over the shelves before landing on the freezer section at the back.
My best friend, Nora, recently broke up with her boyfriend. When we were teenagers, we’d share a tub of mint chocolate chip whenever one of us was dealing with boy dramas: therapy in frozen form. We’ll definitely be needing a tub tonight.
I grab the pint of sugar-free mint chocolate chip, but not before scanning the row, my eyes jumping from tub to tub. For a couple of seconds I hold it, hesitating, before putting it back and choosing another one that feels better somehow. The urge to get it just right never really goes away.
“Kelly Charleston, as I live and breathe!” The voice belongs to none other than Dot McLellan, the town’s infamous gossip. She emerges from behind a display of Halloween candy, her ample figure wrapped in a floral blouse that seems to compete with her loud personality. Nothing gets past her sharp, beady eyes or keenly honed nose. If it happened, she knows about it. Ofcourseshe’d be the first person I’d bump into.
“Dot. It’s good to see you.” A little white lie never hurt anyone. And it’salmosttrue.
“Good to see me? Honey, it’s been ten years or more! What brings you back to our little corner of the coast?” Dot’s eyes gleam with curiosity, her long dangly earrings swinging like pendulums as she leans closer, a cloud of her strong perfume hitting me.
“Work,” I offer vaguely. “I’m starting with the mayor’s office.”
“Is that so?” Dot waits for me to fill in the details, but I deflect with a polite look and let the silence stretch. “Well, don’t be a stranger. We’ve missed you and your family around here. How is your dad after everything? We heard all about your mother’s passing. I’m so sorry.”
Everything. A word that doesn’t even come close to describing the cancer that took Mom too soon, the hospice visits, watching a brilliant woman fade away to nothing. Themissinghits me with sudden intensity: her humming along to the radio, always a little off-key. The way she used to fuss over everyone, making sure no one left the table hungry.
I loved her so much, always trying to be the daughter who made her proud. If only we’d had more time.
“He’s doing well. Thanks, Dot.” The words are automatic, practiced—a shield against prying eyes and questions that hurt.
With the pint of mint chocolate chip cradled in my arms, I pay and escape into the chilly evening air, the scent of theocean chasing away Dot’s cloying perfume. The low-rise building where Nora now lives is just a stone’s throw away. Normally I’d walk, but my life is packed in the trunk and I need to get it to her apartment.
Back in my car, I cruise down Main Street as darkness settles over everything, passing the boardwalk on one side and the familiar lineup of shops on the other. My gaze catches briefly on the lighthouse in the distance, standing sentinel, as it always has.
I almost forget to breathe, a flash of memory from years ago gripping me. Jake, with his arm around me, pointing out constellations as we sat with our backs against its whitewashed wall, saying someday he’d name a star after me.
I bite my lip, forcing myself to look away from the view as if it’s just another ordinary sight, even as my stomach continues to flip.
Soon Nora’s building comes into view, with a sweet brick façade and established gardens. As I approach, there’s a flutter in my chest, the stirrings of something that feels like happiness.
This isn’t just a homecoming. It’s a pilgrimage to the altar of my past.
Sometimes you need to look back in order to move forward. Right?
Nora must have been watching from her front window, because as I park, she appears on the sidewalk, her silhouette—long curly blond hair loose around her pretty face—framed against the glowing windows.
“Kelly!”
When we collide in an embrace, it’s as if no time has passed.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I say into her shoulder, the wave of nostalgia nearly capsizing me.
“Me too,” Nora says, stepping back to look at me. “How was the drive? You must be tired. Come on, let’s get you settled.”
We both grab a couple of suitcases from the car and walk side by side—there’s so much comfort just being with her. We head up a flight of stairs and Nora unlocks the door, which swings open.
“Welcome home,” Nora says with a grin.
I set the pint on the counter, but it looks off center. I nudge it a little, just a tiny adjustment, until it’s perfectly in the middle, then look around. Nora moved out of her mom’s house a year or so ago, after her grandmother, Granny Sloane, passed away. It’s a far cry from the eclectic decor favored by her artist mom, and the apartment is a calm oasis, walls adorned with landscape oil paintings by her mom, with simple furniture filling the space.
“Come on!” She leads me to my room and sets the bags down on the floor. “What do you think? Riley helped me decorate when she was back from college last weekend.” Nora and her sister Riley have always been close.
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” My fingertips graze the soft comforter, and I take in the plush cushions on the bed, the antique desk and full-length mirror, and the window overlooking the apartment’s back garden. The sun has fully set now, and red and yellow leaves outside are bathed in moonlight.