The visit I was making had been a long time coming, and the moment we’d turned into the street, my emotional bond to the place made my chest tighten. A wave of loss brought a lump to my throat when I eyed the house that had been like a second home to me.
“Oh. My. God. Alfie Black! What are you doing here?”
The gasp of surprise and the stunned, wide-eyed look of disbelief on the pretty woman’s face, brought an instant warm smile to my lips.
My heartbeat raced the moment I’d set eyes on Sienna again. It had been years since I’d seen or spoken to her, but she had never been far from my mind.
Only once she was standing before me did I pause to wonder if I was being self-indulgent by turning up out of nowhere.
Until then, I hadn’t considered the impact on her of seeing me again either. Had I brought her a fresh swell of grief that had settled within her over the years?
When Sienna opened her door, I hadn’t been prepared for the flashbacks of us when we’d been younger, nor the nostalgic feelings that swamped my mind. It took more than a few beats for me to respond.
“It’s Memorial Day,” I offered, shrugging sheepishly. We stared at each other until I felt awkward. “Are you leaving me here on your doorstep, or are you going to invite me in?” I’d prompted, breaking the spell of silence between us, since she’d opened the door.
“Shit, sorry, I’m just…” Sienna trailed off, her body visibly shaking in shock. She fell into a stunned silence without moving aside. My gaze studied her sky-blue eyes while they searched my face in disbelief.
We both stood frozen—me with the never-fading memory from the last time I’d seen her. A swarm of emotions stirred in my chest, a reminder of the night when she’d arrived at my door at midnight, drenched from the rain, distressed. The desolate look in her tear-stained eyes told me without words that her soldier brother had died.
God alone knows how long after that moment we’d clung to each other that night, soaked to the skin by the heavy downpour. It had been the night we’d both feared the most, one we’d prayed we’d never face, and the night we’d learned how temporary life is.
“Come here,” I muttered gruffly, dragging my mindset into the present and wrapping my arms around her. Our warm embrace included a squeeze of desperation and loss for the man we’d both loved. A hug that expressed what was in our hearts that a thousand words couldn’t.
Sienna felt familiar in my arms, even after all these years, but my body didn’t come to life from her touch like it once had.
I realized her hands fisted the back of my T-shirt, under my leather jacket, so I stepped back to create space between us. My experience of being a public figure reminded me of my need for privacy. “Are we okay to take this inside?” I asked again.
At my voice, she stiffened and stepped back. This time when our eyes met, hers glistened with unshed tears.
Sienna slapped her forehead, pushed the door wider and stepped further aside. “Shit. Su-sure, come in,” she stuttered as she ran a hand through her hair, smoothed her hands down her sides, then gestured for me to go ahead of her.
My footsteps faltered the moment I reached the sitting room, and I stopped at the threshold. For a few seconds I breathed in the house I’d once spent so much time in, while my eyes scanned the small central space. It didn’t feel all that different, but gone was Gary’s grandpa’s old beat-up furniture and in its place were a couple of new couches, new flowery wallpaper and a distinctive woman’s touch.
Sienna may have made the place her own, but the bricks and mortar of the house still held a certain significance for me. It encompassed a once-in-a-lifetime, ride-or-die friendship with my buddy, and the secret romance Sienna and I had once shared.
“Still living alone?” I asked, instinctively sensing the absence of a man around the place.
Sienna shrugged. “No other guy ever came close,” she replied deadpan.
I sighed and chose to ignore her. Hearing her flat, emotionless reply came as a reminder as to why I’d left visiting so long. What we’d once been, had cut deep for Sienna. We’d dated for almost six months before I broke up with her.
I’d liked Sienna a lot but it wasn’t love, and from what I remember, she’d gotten more jealous and clingy as my college start date loomed.
Although I’d continued to live in the house I’d inherited from my parents, I’d had no idea where my music would take me. So, I came to the realization that being tied to a relationship would have been counterproductive to my freedom as a musician.
I believed I’d made the right decision when after we’d ended, though Sienna had continued to stalk me and bombard me withvoicemail messages. Eventually, I changed my phone number, but she began sending letters, begging for another chance.
Looking back, I’d taken up with Sienna not long after the death of my parents. It was at a time when I was bereft, lost and I’d needed someone to love me. Then, a year after I’d broken up with Sienna, Gary was killed in action in Afghanistan.
“The place looks great,” I offered, still scoping the room for any objects I recognized, despite the passage of time. My narrowed gaze centered on a framed photograph of all three of us, that still hung on the wall.
I remembered Drew taking it one afternoon while we’d surfed at South Beach. As I studied his image, I could hear us clear as day in my mind, debating political arguments made by the Bush administration for military action in the Middle East.
“I’ve missed him every day,” I told Sienna flatly, as I scanned our three, grinning, youthful faces, up there on the wall. “Got anything to drink?” I queried, digressing from the heaviness of grief.
“Alcohol you mean?” I turned to see her frowning.
My request had been a distraction due to the dull ache that had formed in my chest.
