All Your Firsts Without Me, page 11
A few light strums on the guitar pull me from my thoughts. I peek around the two women in front of me. I’m mesmerized by his hands. They are big, large enough I suppose to catch a football. I read about his tragedy online. He was a star running back. Everyone expected great things from him. That is, until the accident. A tear slides down my cheek as I think about him losing both of his parents that night. The article didn’t say much else.
It seems Westin likes his privacy. Me too. My publisher has been hounding me to do a few book signings, but my answer is always the same. I know my story might help someone, but it’s too much. If David was still alive, I might have been able to get through it, but without his glue, I can’t risk it.
Anyhow, back to his hands. God, they’re beautiful. I think they’re much better suited to playing the guitar than holding a football. He starts to sing, drawing my eyes up his frame. His eyes are closed as I watch his lips move. The music is a living, breathing thing inside of him.
A shiver runs up my body as if it’s connected to his voice.
I close my eyes. The darkness behind my lids offers the illusion that it’s just him and I. What I wouldn’t give for him to sing to me like this. As I listen to the words, I realize he is singing to me. When my eyes open, a pair of sea glass ones are staring back at me.
He drops his head, shyly, his dark hair falling over one of his eyes. When he glances up, the corner of his mouth curls into a grin. My own goes dry as he continues to sing to me. I shift on the cold metal chair. He is really sexy—I mean, cute. If you’re into that sort of thing. You know, dark hair, green eyes, and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps.
I break our eye contact and slide my hands under my legs, keeping my gaze fixed on my knees. Good grief. My dad was right. I’m a sinner. I shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about how good Westin looks. Right?
Westin continues to woo the crowd. And if I’m being honest, me too. He’s remarkable.
After he finishes, he walks over to me. “No, Lucky?” he asks.
“No, I left her home. I wasn’t sure where we were going today.”
He nods, turning to wave to some of the residents who are leaving, while others filter in, taking their place.
“You’re a hard act to follow, you know?”
Chuckling, he places a hand at the small of my back, escorting me to the front of the room.
Fred is sitting in the first row. He whoops as I take my seat. When he notices the book in my hand, he raises an eyebrow in question.
“When I walked past your room last week, I noticed the poster on the wall,” I explain.
“Awe, honey, my wife loved Gone with the Wind.”
“I’ve seen the movie, but I’ve never read it. So, what do you say? It might take us awhile to get through it.”
The women in the group all nod their approval. He smiles, giving me the go ahead.
As I’m reading, I can feel Westin’s eyes on me. I glance up, catching his gaze. He winks, making me stumble over my words. Focus, April, focus.
My cheeks grow warm as I cross and uncross my legs. I shift from one hip to the other. Damn, him. He may as well be running his hands up my thighs. His strong hands. God. Stop. I’m going to hell for sure.
It would probably be worth it.
One torturous hour later, the residents are thanking me and heading down for lunch. Fred rolls up in his wheelchair, tipping his head to study me. He looks back at Westin before returning his gaze to me. “Life goes on. It’s okay to make new memories.”
I swallow hard. Is it that obvious?
Yes. It’s inevitable.
“You ready?” Westin asks, tipping his elbow out to me.
I thread my arm through his, allowing him to lead the way.
We stop at a nearby park to eat our lunch, sitting side by side on top of a picnic table.
“Man, I haven’t had one of these in a long time. It’s bringing back a lot of good memories.” Westin holds his sandwich up in front of his face. He dips his head, catching some runaway jelly on the edge of the bread with his tongue.
“I used to make them for Kaden as an afterschool snack.”
“My mom did the same thing. Must be a mom thing.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I don’t really think of myself as Kaden’s mom. We’re more like siblings who like to pick on each other.”
Westin laughs, “I can see where that might have been a bit awkward.”
“Not awkward. It’s just the way it was. Anyhow, I had a neighbor who used to make them for me when I was little. It’s one of the few good memories I have from my past.”
I have to admit something here.
There is a letter for this.
The first peanut butter and jelly sandwich you share.
Strange, right? So, while I wanted to share a sandwich with Westin, I also want to read that letter. I’ve been waiting for the right moment. This seemed right. It feels right.
Westin pops the last bite into his mouth before leaning back on his hands. “Speaking of your past. I need to talk to you about where we are going today.”
I sit up straight. Where could he possibly be taking me? “Okay.”
“When I wrote Alone in the Dark, I knew it had to be perfect. I wanted it to speak to you on the off chance you might hear it.” He sits forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “So, I went to the compound.”
Anxious energy swims through my veins. My fingers tap at the edge of the table. Is the air getting thicker? I tug on the collar of my shirt, struggling for oxygen.
“April,” he says calmly. “It’s okay. We don’t have to go if it’s too much.”
“I don’t know.” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard. “David and I had talked about me going back someday, but I knew he couldn’t get down the stairs and I’m not strong enough to go by myself.”
“If you need time to think about it, I understand. There is something there I think you should see, but if now’s not the time, then that’s all right.”
“You’ll stay with me?”
He nods, pulling my hands into his. His thumb brushes over my skin gently.
David and I discussed many things that might help me get some closure. I think I can do this. I’ve survived so much worse. It’s just a basement.
“I’ll try.”
His brilliant, white smile makes me happy with my decision.
He holds my hand as we drive out to the compound. It’s a little over an hour away. Not one word passes between us. I guess sometimes there are no words.
When we get to the edge of the property, dust rolls past us as his tires skid to a stop. He turns to face me. “You good?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie.
The memories are flooding back with the familiar scenery around me. It’s as lifeless as I remember. Bland. Dull. Dusty. Except back then, there would have been a few people milling around. Now, only tumbleweeds roll across the landscape.
He pulls up to the main house. The one I lived in. Westin shuts the engine off. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.”
Graffiti covers the shattered home. Words like freak, child abuser, Satan’s son, and worse paint the outside. The words are bright and colorful, such a contrast to their meaning.
I open the jeep door, signaling my readiness. Westin hops out and is at my side in a second. He guides me inside, holding the front door that is falling off its hinges to the side for me.
Mice skitter across the floor as we enter. Westin pulls a flashlight out of his back pocket, shining it down the stairs that lead to my old prison. “Watch your step. Some of the boards are a bit loose.”
I nod and follow behind him carefully. The door to my prison is open, exposed, not hidden like it used to be. When I step inside, the memories crush me. Westin holds me up with a strong arm around the waist. “Look,” he whispers in my ear. He shines the light over the walls.
Dear Girl in the Basement,
Thank you for giving me the courage to tell my mom that my coach was hurting me.
Love,
Leslie
My hands cover my mouth as I stifle my cries. I slide further down the wall.
Girl in the Basement,
You gave me the courage to leave my abusive husband.
Love, A battered wife
I can’t believe all of these messages are for me… because of me.
Dear Girl in the basement,
You gave me hope to beat my addiction.
Love, A dad, three years sober
Message after message adorn the walls of my past. I fall to the ground, so overcome with emotion my feet won’t hold me up. My eyes follow Westin as he walks over to the door and pulls it closed. “Shh, don’t worry, it won’t lock,” he says quickly as panic flashes across my face.
He sits down beside me. I hug my legs to my chest, crying, as he continues to shine the light on all the wonderful messages people left for me… for themselves.
“When I came here. I wanted to see what you saw. Feel what you felt.” He puts his arm around me, squeezing me close. His warmth chases the chill away. “I didn’t expect to see this. It seems I’m not the only one who drew from your strength.”
He clicks the flashlight off.
The darkness engulfs us.
I fall apart.
In his arms.
He holds me.
He holds me.
He holds me.
Slowly, I pull myself back together.
“When it was dark, I used to make up songs in my head.” I sniffle, laying my head on his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking of writing them down.”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”
I chuckle sadly. “I haven’t written anything in a long time. I’ve been bottling it all up.”
“Writing is good therapy, isn’t it?” he asks.
“It is.” I turn to face him, even though I can’t see him. “What did you do when you came here?”
His breath whispers across my face as he answers me. “I sat here, just like this, in the dark.” He pauses. “I was terrified. But I forced myself to stay all night.”
“You stayed all night?” I can’t believe someone would stay here willingly.
“Twenty-four hours. Which was mere seconds compared to what you had to endure. Jesus, April, I knew I had to meet you after that. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“Will you do something for me?” I ask.
“Anything,” he answers without hesitation.
“Do you know the words to Amazing Grace?”
“Yes,” his voice is heavy with emotion.
“Will you sing it for me while I go upstairs?”
He turns the light on, our faces mere inches apart. His eyes soften at the corners. He runs his finger down my cheek, closing his eyes, then he starts singing. His voice chases all the bad mojo out of the room. It lifts my heart. I smile, gently pulling myself to my feet. He stays on the cold floor, his voice carrying me up the stairs.
I make my way to my father’s office, dropping to my knees in front of the vent that used to be behind my dad’s filing cabinets. The words aren’t clear, but I can hear the melody traveling through the duct work. I close my eyes, imagining David standing here, listening to me on the day I was saved.
Today I’m saved yet again. By another man. Not better, not lesser, but equally as good.
David lived with grace. I don’t know if I understood that word until today. “Thank you for showing me grace,” I whisper.
I press my forehead to the wall and cry. It’s ironic that the very place I met him is the place where I finally feel strong enough to say goodbye.
Powerful arms wrap around me, pulling me to my feet. Westin turns me into his warm chest. I grip his shirt in my fists. He lets me cry. He lets me cry. He lets me cry.
CHAPTER TWENTY
April
Westin took me back to my car. We didn’t speak. I think he knew I had a lot running through my mind, that I was allowing the memories to flow. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I let myself remember it all.
The hug he gave me when we said goodbye lasted several minutes, then he leaned in and pressed his lips to my temple. The ghost of his kiss still lingers there.
When I finally get home, I mindlessly fill Lucky’s water bowl and food dish. I’m exhausted. I pull my phone from my pocket and call Giles.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, girlie, everything okay?”
“I want a meeting with him.”
Silence.
“Why now?”
“Because I’m ready.”
He sighs. “It will take some time, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I say as I pull my letters out, flipping through them.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m working on all my firsts without him.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s crying.
“Would you and your wife like to come to dinner next week? I’m making your favorite,” I sing song into the phone.
“Yeah,” he chokes out. “That would be great.”
“How about seven, Friday night?”
“Perfect.” He pauses. “Will this be a double date?”
“Yes. My first.”
I can almost hear his smile. “See you then, April.”
As late afternoon rolls around, I find myself making a full course meal. I eat until I’m stuffed, then I take my letter, my little dog, and my own butt down to the beach. I force myself to stay put. I can do this. I’m strong. I’m strong. I’m strong.
The sun kisses the ocean and I let out a shaky breath. Lucky looks from the horizon, to me, back to the horizon. She wags her tail, her tongue hanging out, like she’s waiting for something exciting to happen. And I guess it is. The end of one day with the expectation of another.
As the sky changes colors before my eyes, I notice a shift in my thoughts. I think today reminded me just how much I’ve survived.
For the first time, I think I might survive this too.
My heart still hurts terribly but I’ll endure.
As the sun begins to descend, I unfold the strange peanut butter and jelly sandwich letter.
Oh April,
This may be the most important letter to date. If you are reading this then I know you have opened your heart to him.
Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay.
I wipe my eyes, the sunset becoming a beautiful, blurry mess.
It’s one of your happiest memories. You know she’s the first person I’m going to look for when I get to heaven. The neighbor who gave my girl hope. The one who sat with her in the dark. The kindness she showed you, it’s what kept you going. Who would have thought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich could do so much for a person.
We go through life being handed pebbles. We carry these with us but at some point, you have toss them into the water to help someone else. That peanut butter and jelly sandwich was one of those pebbles. She tossed it in to help you. But what happens when you throw a pebble into the water?
It creates ripples.
God, I love you. Yes, it creates ripples. You’ve now shared your pb and j sandwiches with me, then Kaden, and now Westin. Those were all ripples from that day. Beautiful, isn’t it?
Look for the pebbles, April. Hold on to them as long as you need to and then let them go. Don’t be sad when you let go. Know that they are creating magnificent ripples that never end. That’s how we live on. The more pebbles you gather and throw, the more ripples you create.
Live long and live well my beautiful pebble. It’s time for me to let you go.
Love forever and a day,
David
I hug Lucky to my chest as she licks my face.
David’s saying goodbye. Letter by letter, he’s letting go, while helping me do the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
David ~ The past
I think this is the hardest I’ve cried. Who knew writing about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could make a grown man cry?
Some days I doubt my letters. I wonder if I’m wrong. Maybe I don’t know her as well as I think I do, but this I know for certain—if she shares a good memory from her past with him, then she’s letting him in. April holds her good memories close to her heart. They are buried deep within, in a place where no one can take them away from her.
She hid them from her father, mother, siblings and even from me for a time. I had some high walls to knock down.
Hopefully, it will be easier for him.
I am the preface. The beginning of a beautiful love story, but unfortunately my chapters are short and limited. But her love story is far from over, I know this, I feel it deep inside my heart.
I’m not going to lie about the pain that causes me. Letting go of her hurts. But it’s a million times worth it because she is going to cast all the pebbles we’ve gathered together into the water of her life. She is going to keep our love alive. Love doesn’t end with death. It continues to live in those goddamn pebbles, it never ends.
My load of pebbles is lightening. And I’m trying like hell not to be sad about it. But today I am.
Westin is sitting beside me. He just handed me a napkin. He’s been my rock these past few days. The end is near. But I have a few more pebbles to throw.
“Hey bartender,” I yell. “Why don’t you take my friend and I’s picture. We have something to toast.”
The guy grabs his camera and Westin and I place an arm around each other’s shoulders while we tap our beers together.
I follow Westin over to hang it on the bar’s famous wall of photos. He gives me the side eye as he tapes it up. “So, what were we toasting?” he asks curiously.
