your secret was the reason you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday.” I pull at a loose thread on my shorts, worried I’ve blown it.
But I haven’t.
“This has been the best birthday I’ve had in, well…in a very long time.” Lifting my gaze, I wonder why he’s confessing this with such sorrow. He explains. “I don’t celebrate my birthday. Ever.”
“Why?”
This is it. As the thunder and the rain pummel around us, Roman bares his soul.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday because…remember how I told you I…lost someone?” I nod, barely breathing. “Well…” Each pause is followed by a shallow breath, giving him the strength to continue. “That person was…” He places the heel of his hand against the wheel; a symbolic gesture that he’s wishing someone would meet him halfway. “That person was…my sister. My twin sister.”
My heart fills with grief.
“How can I celebrate my birthday when it’s a reminder of all I’ve lost? She was my other half, and celebrating a day which honors us both seems a little heartless when she’s not here to celebrate it with me.”
I don’t believe what I’m hearing.
“I am so sorry for my inexcusable behavior today. I’ve been so angry with myself because being with you today, yesterday, since we met, has awoken something in me, something I thought long dead. Guilt overwhelms me every time I’m with you because you make me…happy.”
I want to say so many things, but where do I start?
“I don’t understand what I feel for you. It doesn’t make any sense. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He finally meets my eyes, the deep blue depths swirling with fear and confusion. Running a hand through his hair, he implores me to speak.
“Eleanor?”
“What?” Roman gasps, his fingers pausing mid-route.
“Your sister, her name was Eleanor?” My voice is no match for the punishing sounds outside, but he hears me, loud and clear.
“How?” Now he’s the one left speechless.
I shuffle in my seat, embarrassed to be confessing what I saw. “Before I made a complete fool of myself, I watched you in the fitness center. I saw her name tattooed on you.”
“What else did you see?” He’s quick to ask, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
“Nothing. What else was there for me to see?” I ask, puzzled.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just…” He pauses as I wet my dry lips. “Yes, Eleanor was my sister.” His voice breaks.
So many thoughts smash into me, but at the forefront are June’s words. “He wants to save the world.”
I didn’t understand what she meant, but now I do.
“That’s why you’re a doctor? You want to save people because you couldn’t save Eleanor,” I declare, winded by my revelation. I don’t know when he lost his sister, but I think it was long ago, long enough to shape him into the man he is today.
He frowns. “Yes, in part, that’s the reason.”
In part? There’s more. What more could there be?
So many thoughts are rattling inside my head, but suddenly, a thought so heinous overrides any other. “Is that why you want to save me? Because you see her in me?” My stomach fills with dread, threatening to overfill and spill from the seams.
Is he helping me out of sympathy for his dead sister? Maybe what he feels for me is guilt, and when he looks at me, he sees a chance to make amends for his sister’s death.
I suddenly can’t breathe.
“Roman?” I press. Each silent second is a silent scream.
He turns his cheek, staring at the window. Is his silence all the answer I need?
Every single insecurity I’ve ever had rolls over me, and I feel a fool for thinking Roman felt something for me. His kindness was because he cared, just not in the way I thought, the way I wanted him to. He said he doesn’t understand what he feels for me. Maybe what we share is a closeness, stirred by the love he has for his sister.
I suddenly can’t breathe.
Without a second thought, I yank open the door, uncaring that the heavens are pouring down around me. The heavy rain pounds against my skin, but it feels good to experience something other than this ache in my chest.
Unsure where I’m going, I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing I could wring out this regret in my belly. I’m beyond embarrassed and angry for fabricating something that clearly wasn’t there. I’m not out here to be melodramatic. I just need space because everything is so muddled.