“It’s a stream. I don’t think it’s that deep.” She let go of his hand and climbed up onto her boulder. Laura turned and saw Dean watching her. She tapped the spot by her side.
“How long have you been coming here?” he asked.
“A few years. Mostly since the end of high school, when the pressure got too much. Coming here always made the bad seem worthwhile.”
“High school was a bummer,” he admitted. Dean climbed up on the boulder and sat close beside her.
“You hated high school?” she asked.
“Yes, everything about it. I was bullied by the jocks and tormented by everyone.”
“You weren’t a jock?”
“Nope. First-class nerd all the way. Also, in my spare time I liked to read poetry. The only person who didn’t bully me was Carla.” He went quiet at her side.
“Was Carla your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Were you childhood sweethearts?” she asked.
“Do you really want to know this?”
Laura glanced over at him. “I want to know everything about you.”
She heard him sigh and instead of badgering him to continue she stared at the water and waited.
“Carla and I were close growing up. We lived about three houses apart and were great friends, nothing deep or meaningful. If we had classes together we partnered up. We were each other’s back-up. She went to prom with the most popular guy in school. Wow, I didn’t know I’d ever forget his name, but I can’t recall it. Anyway, after prom and graduation, I had a scholarship to go to a creative writing college while she went off and did her own thing. We lost touch for over ten years.”
Laura heard him chuckle and the next moment felt her hand being taken. She gazed down to see he was holding her hand. Did he know what he was doing?
“We met at a drinks celebration," he continued. "I wasn’t doing well at story writing at the time and I wrote small pieces for tabloids and magazines. Not good enough to get noticed, but enough to pay the bills. We met and the years melted away. Five years later, when we were both thirty-three, we decided to settle down together. We cared about each other from the beginning. We got hitched in the summer of that year and a year later we’d fallen in love. I know it sounds corny and romance movie, but it happened that way for us. She’s the one who told me to start writing my own stuff and one night after, well, after doing adult stuff...”
Laura thumped him in the side. “After you’d made love. I’m not a child.”
“Okay, after we’d made love I went to my computer and typed all night long. The piece was awful. That was the starting point and I haven’t stopped since. Carla became my world and I became hers. Nothing mattered as long as we were both together. Then four years ago, little Frankie was born. My son. Our family was complete.” Tears ran down his face. Laura gripped his hand more firmly.
“How did they die?” she asked.
“About two years ago I’d made it into the world of publishing and we'd gone to some book launch. Little Frankie and Carla were tired and she drove them home while I stayed and mingled with the rest of the group. I returned home before the
m. They never made it home. A drunk driver in a lorry crashed head on into them. They wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
Laura got to her knees and hugged him.
Dean let go, his body shaking with the sobs coming out of him. She held him through the pain and the heartache as he finally, after so long of keeping it inside, let it out.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered and kissed him on the head. She wasn’t there for anything more than to offer him comfort. She sought no other pleasure or means.
“I should have been there,” he cried.
She let go of his hand and cupped his face. “No," she said. "This was not your fault. What happened that night couldn’t be foreseen. You’re not to blame.”
Firm and direct she hugged him and after some time he settled down with his head in her lap. Laura ran her fingers through his hair as she glanced up at the setting sun.
“I’m so sorry,” he said after a time, but he didn’t move from the position on her lap.
“What are friends for?” she asked.