Still Beating

by Jennifer Hartmann

“Any day now, Dean.” A sigh escapes him. “All right. Fine.” His eyes look even bluer as they hold mine. “I had a thing for you first.” What? I choke on nothing. I start coughing and sputtering, and I have to force my eyes away from him. “What are you talking about?” Dean bites his lip with another indifferent shrug. “Before I started dating Mandy. It was freshman year and you walked into Mr. Adilman’s class wearing that little denim skirt and purple blazer. Your hair was all long and gold and had some kind of flower clip in it. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”

“You would have gotten them both,” he says. His voice sounds frayed as I blink at him, processing his words. They take longer than usual to sink in, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so exhausted or because part of me doubted that Dean would ever speak to me again. I swallow, my throat cinching. “You would have adopted both dogs because your heart is too big for only one.” I thought I was too beaten down and dehydrated to make anymore tears, but I surprise myself when my eyes start to mist. I keep my watery gaze on Dean, afraid to break this contact, afraid he’ll withdraw and leave me all alone again. I offer a small smile. Then I reply, my voice equally raspy, “I didn’t think you ever noticed my heart.” It’s a heavy declaration, and I hate that it’s true. Dean’s weary face grows even wearier as he absorbs my words. “It’s impossible not to notice, Cora.”

“What are we?” I wonder aloud. I was not expecting those words to come out, but they have been plaguing me for days. Dean has always fit into a very specific box in my life. Dean, the asshole. Dean, my sister’s dumb boyfriend. Dean, my mortal enemy. But… “You don’t feel like my enemy anymore,” I finish. You feel like my lifeline. I watch a small frown crease his eyebrows as he studies me. Seconds tick by and turn into minutes. Our gazes drift and collide. Drift and collide. He is thinking. Probably wondering the same thing. “I don’t know,” Dean finally replies, a certain kind of sadness lacing every word. “But I think you were right… we’ll never be friends.”

He lifts his head. I can feel him looking at me. Watching me. Begging me to open my eyes. I do. My eyelids flutter open and the air catches in my throat when our gazes meet. He’s staring at me like I’m the only goddamn thing in the world, and I suppose, right now, I am.

Then we each take a step forward. Then another. Then one more. And before we’ve thought anything through or had time to ponder our next move, our arms are wrapped around each other, her hot breath against my neck, her hair that smells like daffodils tickling my nose. I pull her close, breathing in every ounce of her, savoring her warmth. She feels like home. “Dean,” she whispers, her voice breaking on my name like it split her in half.

Cora. I think about the way she chewed on her lip while we played ‘Twenty Questions’ to pass the time. She took the game seriously, like she was up for the grand prize on a cheesy game show. I remember the golden glints in her emerald eyes that seemed to fade with each passing day. I recall the occasional smile I would pull out of her. They felt so magical—so beautifully out of place. Her smile was the closest thing I felt to being rescued over the course of those twenty days.

Cora falls asleep a few moments later with I’ll Be Home For Christmas echoing in our ears, warming us up, taming our tortured souls… and I know I’ll be perfectly content if this is all I get for Christmas this year.

“It’s beautiful, Dean. It’s… too much.” Cora glances up at me with misted eyes, then looks back down at the necklace. She removes it from the box, letting the delicate chain dance over her fingers as she holds it up and gazes at the gilded heart. “Open it. It’s a locket.” Cora blinks, surprised. I can see her fingers tremble as she unclasps the two pieces of gold and fixes her eyes to the inner contents. Still Beating. She doesn’t say anything. I wonder if maybe she doesn’t understand, so I start to explain. “I was thinking you can wear it over your heart as a constant reminder of everything you survived. As long as it’s still beating, you’re okay.”

“I have no idea what you are to me.” At first, I’m offended. I’m outraged. After all we’ve been through. I’m about to respond, flustered and angry, when I realize… she’s absolutely right. What the fuck are we? We’ll never be friends. We’re no longer enemies. We can’t be lovers. Where does that leave us? Soldiers at war. Kindred spirits. Two lost, wandering souls with nothing, and everything, in common. Or… maybe not. Maybe we aren’t something meant to be labeled. We transcend titles.

“Corabelle, please. Talk to me.” Her shoulders are trembling as she plants both hands on the steering wheel, squeezing until her knuckles go white. More tears spill from her eyes. “Fine.” She sniffles, looking up at me with eyes made of emerald flames. “We’re done. Whatever this is, whatever is between us—it’s done. Over. I thought I needed you to heal, but this is toxic… all you’re doing is holding me underwater and I can’t breathe. I can’t heal when I’m constantly reminded of my trauma every time I look at you.” Cora inhales sharp, ragged breaths as she finishes. “I thought you could fix me. But you’re killing me, Dean.”

Cora: Anyway, I’m going to try and sleep. I don’t hate you. I know I said you’re holding me underwater but you’re the only thing keeping me afloat.

Healing. She looks like healing. We find our way inside and strip out of our soggy winter wear, collapsing onto the couch, mentally and emotionally drained. Blizzard always used to sit right between us on the couch—always. It became a running joke that she was trying to prevent us from killing each other. Now I wonder if she was trying to tell us something.

“Cora, listen to me,” I say, still holding her face in my hands, still clinging to her like it’s the very last time. “Those were the worst three weeks of my entire goddamn life and they will haunt me forever.” I swallow. “But I’m glad I was there. And I’d do it all again, a thousand times over, just to keep you from going through that shit alone. I’m glad I was there with you.” A gasp-like whimper escapes her. I’ve never seen her look at me like this before. I close my eyes, dropping my forehead to hers. “And don’t ask me what that means, Corabelle, because I don’t have a goddamn clue. All I know is that I’d kill that son-of-a-bitch over and over again just to keep you safe—hell, I’d kill a hundred men if I thought that would chase away your nightmares and bring you peace. And I know how fucked that sounds, trust me, I know, but I can’t let you go another minute feeling guilty or responsible or weak. You’re a warrior.”

Cora glances over in my direction and our eyes meet for the very first time. Green. Angels have green eyes. She smiles at me, that same sweet smile, and this one is all mine. It fills me up and lights me on fire, and I know, I just know… I’m going to marry this girl one day.

“I’ll always care about you, Mandy. Always. And I know you’ll fall in love again and walk down that aisle someday. I know you’ll find someone who sees the scariest, darkest parts of you and loves the shit out of you anyway. Someone who presses your buttons, gets under your skin, makes you crazy in all the best ways. Someone who makes you feel so alive, you can’t imagine going back to the shell of a human you were before you met them. Someone who sees you, really sees you, stripped down and raw, and wants to collect all your broken pieces and cherish them like they are something beautiful.”

“Every love story is worth writing, no matter how messy it might be,” Holly says absently, still stroking my hair. “I would like to read your book.”

Dean is like the ocean. Compelling, calling to me, within reach… So much magic. So much beauty. Something I want with every aching layer of my soul. But I’m that little girl again, frozen in the sand, afraid of the dark waters in front of me. There’s so much uncertainty. There’s so much I can’t see. I’m scared I’ll lose myself to the tumultuous waves and drift away, barely treading above water, hardly able to breathe.

Peace. This is what peace feels like. And as our bodies relax and melt together, I realize I don’t need him to sing to me or massage my wrist, or offer any kind of escape from the dark cloud that hovers over me. He is enough. His heartbeat is all I need.

An hour later, Dean has me bent over the kitchen table, pounding into me from behind as my fingernails scratch along the wood. He tugs my hair back, twisting my face to his, and I chant his name against his lips—I know it drives him wild. He snakes his hand around my middle, sliding it down my stomach until it reaches its destination between my legs. With my sweatpants around my ankles, I arch into his touch, moaning when his fingers find my clit. “Oh, God…” Dean works me into a frenzy, trailing his lips from mine and attacking my throat with his tongue. “You’re always so wet. I fucking love it.”

“Don’t play the martyr, Dean. If you really loved me, you would stay.” “I do love you.” He’s on me again, his hands on my shoulders. “I love you. Madly. But with mad love comes madness, and what you need right now is peace. Don’t you get it, Cora? Don’t you see?” His grip on me tightens, his face directly in front of mine. “I’m leaving because I love you.”

“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to walk out your door without making you understand why I need to do this… but I realize you won’t understand until I’m gone. And I’m so fucking sorry, Cora. The last thing I want to do is give you more pain, but I promise this is the right thing to do.” Dean clutches me, squeezes me, his hand cradling the back of my head and threading through my hair. He peppers kisses along my neck as I start to cry uncontrollably. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, my sweet Corabelle. I love you so goddamn much.” I can’t stop crying. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. Dean pulls back slowly, his hands lifting to my cheeks and wiping away my tears. He kisses my forehead, my nose, landing on my lips with a final goodbye. “You’re still my girl. You’ll always be my girl.”

She nods. “And every day at dinner time, I’d bring homemade chicken noodle soup up to your bedroom.” I still remember that soup. It was so good. I began to look forward to it every day. Even on the days I had no appetite, that soup warmed me up and made me smile. “I remember that. I loved it.” My mother pulls back to find my eyes, a knowing smile stretching across her pretty face. She leans in to kiss my hairline, then whispers, “That soup was from Dean.” My chest tightens, the air escaping me with a sharp gasp. “What?” “He would come over every day after school to study with Mandy, and he’d bring you soup. He never made a big deal about it—he acted like it was nothing.” She squeezes my arm, noticing my watery, wide-eyed stare. “He’s always cared about you, Cora.”

“Cora, sweetheart… love doesn’t exist without sacrifice. Sometimes those sacrifices are waking up ten minutes early to make your partner coffee. Sometimes it’s taking on a second job to support your family. Sometimes it’s staying up all night with a newborn so your significant other can finally sleep. Sometimes it’s shoveling the other person’s car out of the driveway after a snowstorm.” She places her palm against my wet cheek and smiles softly. “And sometimes it’s making the ultimate sacrifice and walking away for the greater good.”

I wander through my front yard fifteen minutes later like a zombie, drained and exhausted. I’m so distracted by my emotional distress, I almost miss the envelope taped to my turquoise door with my name scrawled across the front. Corabelle. I lose a breath as I reach for the white envelope, plucking it off the door and grazing my forefinger along my name written in black ink. I swallow hard as I tear open the seal, then a gasp squeaks out between my lips. My locket is tucked inside, along with a handwritten note: It’s still beating. You’re still okay. And I still love you. - Dean

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling the way he shivers against my lips. Dean’s arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer, his tension draining with mine. He inhales deeply, exhaling his doubts and regrets against my temple. “Hi.” It’s a hi. It’s a hello. It’s a welcome back—I missed you.

“So, where did you want to go? I’m up for anything. We can even do The Oar for old time’s sake, even though I’m—” My breath catches in my throat, possibly indefinitely, when I feel two warm hands capture my waist from behind with a feather light touch. And then his lips are up against my ear, his heartbeat pressed into my back, his proximity a painful reminder of everything I’ve been missing for the last eight months. “I promised myself I’d be good tonight, but I feel like you might make a liar out of me.”

“What do we do now?” I wonder out loud, nuzzling my cheek into his palm. The gesture seems to awaken him and he moves in closer, until our bodies are almost touching. His hard gaze caresses my face, trying to read me. Trying to pull answers out of my eyes—like if he looks close enough, he’ll find them. He will. Dean lowers his hand to my neck, his fingers catching on my hair. He leans down to press a light kiss to my forehead, his lips hovering against my hairline as he whispers, “I’m not sure, Corabelle. All I know is that I want to kiss you more than I want air.”

“You said I didn’t fight for you, but that’s so far from the truth.” I almost choke on a breath, my wrists linking behind his neck, trying to pull him back to me. He resists, keeping our eyes locked and stroking his knuckles along my cheek. “Corabelle… that was me fighting for you. That was me fighting for your healing, your joy, your smile, your laughter… your beautiful, broken spirit. I never stopped fighting for you and I never will.”

“I love you so damn much, Corabelle. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left, craving your kiss, your touch, the smell of your hair. You never left my mind. I drove myself crazy not knowing if you were really okay, or wondering if you’d moved on with someone else. It’s been hell.” I kiss her forehead, hesitating before I pull back. “But seeing the light in your eyes again is everything. And even if you had moved on and found happiness with some other guy… it would have fucking sucked, but it still would have been worth it to see you like this.” Cora places her fingertips against my cheek, trailing them down the stubble along my jaw. “I’ve thought about you, too. Every day. Every night. I dream about us at the ocean sometimes, listening to the waves roll in, feeling the water mist our faces.” She kisses my lips, wrapping her leg tighter around me and hitching it over my waist. “It’s my happy place.” I smile against her mouth. “My happy place is wherever you are. And I want to make this work, Cora. No more hiding, no more holding back. I’ll wait for a job position to open back up here, and I’ll put in for a transfer. It might be a few months—it could be a year. But I’ll spend every goddamn weekend with you until I’m back for good.”

“Are you still mine?” Cora doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for my hand, placing it above her heart. “It’s still beating,” she says. Her face lights up with a radiant smile that looks exactly like how her heartbeat feels. “As long as it’s beating, I’m yours.”