The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 47 - New Leaf

I shut the door as quietly as I can. The last thing I want is to wake up Sosa and have her freak out over the state Keith is in. Keith goes straight to the kitchen table and sits down. It's past one in the morning. We've been at the hospital for four hours. His face is badly bruised and his cheekbone is fractured. They had to suture his lower lip and apply stitches to his hand, but other than that, he's okay. His ribs and back are sore and they said it will take some time for the swelling to go down but everything should heal on its own in due time.

I wrap a clean towel around a bag of frozen veggies, a trick I've mastered greatly over the past few weeks, and press it gently to his face. I half expect him to push me away but he doesn't. Eventually, he looks at me through the eye which isn't swollen shut and puts a hand to my face. His calloused fingers explore my features softly, as though it's the first time he's seeing me. His touch is so intense I'm almost certain it's leaving a mark on my skin, his brown eyes more sincere than I've seen them in ages.

"What happened to us?"

His voice is barely a whisper but in the quiet of the night, it's amplified by tenfold and cuts straight through to my heart.

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"I love you, Ally," he says as a tear escapes him. I wipe it off gently with my thumb but he winces nonetheless. "I know I fucked up but I love you so damn much and I just want you to be mine," he goes on. "No more of him, okay?"

I want to tell him that I love him too. I want to tell him that I just want things to be how they were. I just want to be happy with him, like we were when we first started going out together. Back when he used to give me butterflies. When we spent hours lazing about on the couch and went for long walks and ate soggy chips with salt and vinegar by the sea. When he wrote and played songs for me and I laughed at his stupid, cheesy lyrics. I just want him to look at me the way he used to. I want to see his racy smile again, the one that made me weak in the knees and made me wonder how the hell I managed to snag someone so good-looking and charming and so damn perfect.

But I know that if I open my mouth, the words won't come. So, I just nod and hold him closer and hope he understands. He rests his head on my chest and we sit there for what seems like hours.

#

My phone vibrates beneath my pillow. It's five in the morning and I haven't slept a wink. I read a text message from Jeremy.

I'm outside.

I look over to the other side of the bed. Keith is sleeping soundly. His breathing is slow and slightly ragged because of his swollen nose. The contusions around his eye and cheeks are already turning a nasty shade of purple.

I edge out of the bed slowly and quietly. I put on a pair of jogging trousers and Keith's sweatshirt and tiptoe across the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I run down the stairs and open the front door.

I don't know what hits me first, the cold air or his cold eyes. My breath comes out in a white smoke as I breathe out slowly. I cross my arms over my chest and walk up to him slowly. He doesn't take his eyes off me. They get warmer and softer the closer I get to him until I stop a few paces away. I focus on the cut over his right brow. The only imperfection in his smooth face. It's already dry but it looks rather deep.

He reaches out to touch my cheek but I turn my head away from his fingers. His hand recoils and I can see in his eyes that this hurts him. But I can't have him touch me right now. Not without breaking. Keith is right. We need to go back to how things were. And we can't do that with Jeremy around.

"Are you okay?" he asks, putting his hands in his pockets. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. His voice is slow and tired.

I nod, still avoiding his eyes.