Emerge into Forever

by Andrea Michelle

  He shivers, and I swallow so hard. How could he know of my dreams? That’s impossible. I’m confused. Revenge. He said it in his story, he sought revenge and it was ever so sweet, setting us free. “What did you do?” I ask with a tremble in my voice.

  If he could hold me any tighter I think he would because he squeezes me to him like he’s afraid I might pull away when he speaks. I’m not going anywhere. “Josh, what happened?” I ask again when he doesn’t speak to me.

  “I killed him,” he shudders. “I pushed him against the wall and strangled him until he quit breathing.”

  He lifts his head and the satisfied expression in his eyes frightens me. He smirks, “He’ll never hurt you again, pretty girl. Never.”

  I gasp and pull away, but I’m tangled up and I can’t free myself. I’m frantic. Panicking until I realize it was just a dream and I am wrapped up in my sheets, damp with a cold sweat.

  “Oh, my God,” I say to myself. Completely out of breath. Not real. It wasn’t real.

  Looking around my room, I see that it is just as it was in my dream, though, from my open notebook to my bed empty of Josh. I kick my feet off the side and make my way to the bathroom where I splash cool water onto my face and do my normal morning business. I’m dithering in my thoughts, part of me wanting to walk into the living room and see if he is there on the couch, the other afraid to move. Move I must, though, and so I do.

  I open the door to the bathroom and walk into the hall. Then I hear it—his voice—coming from her bedroom. Not just his voice, his singing voice. Not again. My insides are coiling into knots, my heart racing a mile a minute and my fear strangling me with déjà vu.

  I tiptoe my way toward the music that is both spell binding and beautiful, yet frightening in its similarity to my nightmare. He’s holding Jocelyn in his arms, sitting in the rocking chair that he has turned to face the window where the sun is just beginning to make an appearance. His back is slightly to me and he doesn’t seem to sense my presence, so I listen, and I watch him.

  The flutter in my belly returns, that pull of need that only he gives me, diminishing the fear of before because he’s content and I can see it on his face when he looks at her. He’s humming softly and she’s curled up on his chest so adorably like a bundle of pure joy. Her tiny fingers are wrapped around his pinky.

  I want this.

  I want to wake up in the mornings, or in the middle of the night and find him holding our child, soothing our child with his voice, with a lullaby so beautiful, not creepy fairy tales about revenge and grief. I touch my womb that craves for something to fill it.

  How wrong is it for me to want something so permanent with him when he’s sitting there holding my half sister—a sister whose other half is him? It’s just it was always supposed to be us. He and I against the world, calming one another’s storms by creating beauty and music, and yes, babies. I want to create life with him because he is my life, and creating a life that is both he and I would be perfect if perfect could be ours.

  He must sense me because he turns, but I move just in time to where he doesn’t see me there, pressed against the wall just out of view. I slide down and hide my face in my hands, struggling to breathe, to not cry. My nerves are shot.

  I know our love is a once in a lifetime kind of love and we are meant to have it, to share it, to keep it forever between us. I know that my mom and his dad made a decision that affected us both, creating her—changing our families forever. As many decisions made in the past by my parents, this would be another life long situation. My heart tells me it doesn’t matter because he was mine before, and he will be mine for a lifetime. My heart begs my mind to believe that everything will be fine and that in time Jocelyn will understand that what we’re doing isn’t some perverse form of love, but a beautiful love—our own kind, though ugly at times.

  My mind never shuts up, though. Always telling me things are worse than what they are, that love is temporary and this can’t be kept. That my nightmares are real. Telling me that Jocelyn won’t understand, she will be confused and she will think we are sick and demented. I will lose love.

  My thoughts are riddled with good and bad, bouncing between the dark and the light, stuck in the gray on the pages of our half written story. I’m shaken from the voices in my head when I hear him speaking to her, though literally shaking when again it’s odd affinity to my dream is on replay.

  “You wanna know a secret, Jellybean?”

  “Life is something fickle,” he begins. “A little sad at times, cruel even and is stamped with one giant question mark. It’s unfair, though rewarding when we least expect it to be. Nothing is guaranteed and you can blink and have everything change. Like you, for example.”

  He pauses.

  I hold my breath.

  “You are some of those things. Confusing being at the forefront. Unfair only because you are a game changer, that is if I believed in playing by the rules, which I don’t. You’re a wild card, but perfectly…well, perfect. Riley said once to me that you couldn’t be wrong when you are so perfect. I get it now. Something so right can’t be so wrong. I just wonder though if something so wrong can also be so right.

  I mean, looking at you, holding you makes me realize a lot of things about myself that I never gave much thought to before. Like what I want…what I want with Riley. I could do this thing. You know, be a good daddy, husband and still be her best friend. Would I be a good big brother, then, or would you not understand? That’s what I mean by confusing. In my heart, she’s mine. She has always been mine. I don’t tell her everything. Show her all of my cards of hearts because she would make fun of me for being such a romantic. The thing is…I started thinking about stuff last night. She asked me a question once and at the time I answered it the best way I knew how. Did I believe that everything happens for a reason? I replayed that question in my mind over and over again last night, and I didn’t really know why, or how to stop it. When she asked me that question, it was referring to you and how you existed so perfectly in our world. She thought maybe you were a sign that we weren’t meant to be together. I disagreed then and I still do.

  Because see last night I came to a conclusion that yes, everything happens for a reason. If her dad had never had that affair years ago then I never would have met Riley. They never would have moved next door to get away from his past. She and I would not have grown up best friends and then fallen in love. So you see…even though that really bad thing happened—oh, and by the way I will hurt someone if they ever cheat on you—back to my point, though. That bad thing happened and it hurt her and it hurt her mom. But it brought her to me. So it had to happen, you see? She didn’t trust in love, or in anything really, but she trusted me, and it became my job to show her love. You know?”

  Tears are streaming down my cheeks and I’m struggling not to choke and sniffle. I never thought of that. I’m still stuck on his words of being a daddy and a husband and wanting all of this with me.

  “So, Jellybean that got me thinking about other bad things that happened. Her dad driving drunk, my mom dying and Dean.”

  He says his name with disgust and I know instantly that he read my poem. I just pray this doesn’t turn into story time of a cursed fairy.

  “I don’t know if anything good came out of that accident, but I do know that you wouldn’t exist otherwise. As far as Dean goes…that one I can’t figure out. That thought kept me up last night. Maybe her being with him wasn’t helpful to her, but to him. He has some secrets, some things he battles and if I had my assumptions I’d say she was the light in his darkness, the same way she thinks I’m the light in hers. What he did to her haunts me, and I hope little one that you never, ever date someone like Dean. I will make sure you never do.

  I don’t know if a reason exists for that night between them, though I do believe she is so much stronger because of it. It made her fight and it made her see who he really is. All of that heartache after we broke up leading up to that night and then where we are
now has been chaos, but we are so much stronger now, so it’s a beautiful chaos. We’re together, we’re talking and we’re not hiding anymore. So if that’s the reason for those things then maybe it was meant to happen.

  My heart hurts, though, Jellybean. You will understand one day when you’re older and you fall in love and your heart becomes the only muscle in your body that craves attention. It will happen no matter how hard you fight it. Love. That word. That emotion comes with so many strings. Pull the wrong one and it falls apart. Thread them together, though, and it could last forever, two hearts floating with the stars. I want it badly, baby girl, and I hope you understand one day that I have to do this. She’s my heart, she has all of the strings that thread with mine and I need to tie us together forever. So, please don’t hate me, hate us one day for this. I love her. She loves me. We love you. It’s love and it comes in all shades of colors, even gray.”

  Silence follows and all I hear is breathing. I wipe my eyes and pick my heart up off the floor, placing it back into my chest where I quietly make my way to my room and cry.

  We worry about the same things. I think one way and he thinks another and in the end the two ways aren’t so different because all we want is to be together. I take my pen and my journal, turning the page both literally and emotionally from my dark poem about Dean and write one that matters.

  IT’S A BALLAD ABOUT A BOY WHO MADE ME BELIEVE

  IN LOVE, IN LIFE, IN BEAUTIFUL COLORS THAT I ONCE COULDN’T SEE

  I WAS HIDING IN THE DARK AFRAID TO LOWER MY WALLS

  BUT HE SAW THE REAL ME, WANTED EVEN WITH MY FLAWS

  IT’S A SONG THAT WE CREATE OUT OF LOVE

  IT’S A POEM WE BLEND TO BECOME ONE

  IT’S THE WAY WE DANCE TO OUR OWN BEAT

  IT’S HOW OUR HALVES TOGETHER MAKE US COMPLETE

  I don’t know how much time passes before I see him in the doorway. Again the resemblance to my dream is so intense it causes my skin to prickle.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you were up,” he says, walking into the room holding our sister.

  “I didn’t know you were here. I felt uh, cold and thought you left me last night,” I say, shutting my notebook and reaching for Jocelyn. He hands her to me, flicking his eyes to the notebook as I cradle her in my lap and ignore that. She’s growing so fast. Changing right before my eyes.

  I’m looking down at her with adoration, but my eyes snap up when he says, “I did leave last night. Went running to blow off steam. I read your poem. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop, but it was open.”

  I’m frozen, literally frozen like ice. He went running. He went running in my dream. Why would the two link so factually like that? I shiver and feel the hairs rise on my neck as the word premonition comes to mind.

  “Where’d you go?” I ask, internally shrinking away from this conversation.

  He lies down on the bed, resting his arm up on his elbow as he touches Jocelyn’s toes. “It’s kind of creepy, but to the cemetery. I talked to my mom, talked to your dad and came back here where I watched you sleep for a while.”

  “My dad? How come?” Now, I’m alert.

  He smiles like he has a secret. “I needed to ask him something.”

  I lay Jocelyn onto her tummy and mirror Josh on my side to where we are facing one another and she’s sandwiched between us. “Did he answer you?” I joke.

  Josh apparently doesn’t find it funny because his face is serious and intense. “I think he did. I think I have all of the answers and know what to do now.”

  “Do about what?” I ask reaching my hand across to smooth the lines on his forehead.

  “About you.”

  I hum, rolling to my back and placing the baby on my tummy. “I didn’t realize I was something you still needed to figure out, Josh.”

  Laughter fills my room and I want to live in it for the rest of my life. “Oh, pretty girl, I don’t think I will ever completely figure you out. Girls are a puzzle with damn too many pieces.”

  I smile turning my head. “True, but…you hold all of my pieces so that one should be elementary for you.”

  He stares long and hard at me. Into my eyes, down to my lips and at our sister sleeping now like a tiny ball on my stomach. “I want this with you,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking.

  “Want what?” I place a kiss onto her forehead, inhaling the baby powder scent that I love so much.

  “Forever. Babies. All of it.”

  I have hummingbirds living in my stomach right now. My breathing is causing a wave for her to ride and rest on as my chest goes up and down deeply. “You’re skipping a step.” My voice is small and dreamy.

  He looks from the baby into my eyes. “No, I’m not,” he says with finality. “I know what comes next and I want it too…badly.”

  “You do?” Our words are hushed and he’s inching closer ever so slightly.

  “I do,” he says against my lips, then pecking them. “And one day you will say those two words back to me.”

  “I will?”

  “M’huh,” he whispers into my ear. “And we’ll make beautiful babies and buy you a minivan.”

  I laugh and it causes Jocelyn to startle, her little arms shoot out and she whimpers. I massage her back and she settles back into her ball. “A mini-van?” I ask whispering. “Why a minivan? How many Jellybeans do you want, Josh?”

  He lies on his back beside me, wrapping his pinky around my pinky and turning his head to the side to look at me. “I want whatever makes you happy, baby. I just want it all to be with you.”

  We just stare longingly into one another’s eyes. “I love you, Joshua Parker.”

  “I love you, Riley Parker,” he boyishly grins, giving me his last name.

  “I like that, a lot,” I tell him leaning closer to kiss his lips. “Some day, huh?”

  “Some day,” he says kissing my forehead.

  We both fall asleep soon after, neither having a restful night before. I don’t dream of Dean, of revenge, of anything other than beautiful colors. Not just any colors, though. I dreamed of white, lime green and dark blue. I dreamt of flowers and best friends wearing those colors on our wedding day where I did say those words to him, and he says them to me. Happiness was in my dreams. Happy is what he made me.

  CHAPTER 28

  It’s weird when sadness, shock, relief and glee become tangled webs of emotions.

  “Holy shit! You’re so tan,” I tell Em as I pick her up from the airport.

  She half grins and half frowns pointing to her nose. “Yeah, look at these freckles. I think they had babies on my face.”

  I wrap my hands around her neck. “You’re my Ginger and I love these freckles.”

  Her arms wrap around my neck as well to embrace my hug. Then she smacks my ass and grabs her suitcase. “What I tell you about calling me that, bitch?” I just laugh. It will never change.

  In the car she tells me all about her week and I tell her about mine. I’ve missed her and I’m so happy to have my bestie back. However, my happiness fizzles out when we get home because there on the edge of our apartment door is an envelope with my name handwritten on it. It’s handwriting that I recognize. I freeze mid-step.

  “What is it?” Em asks from behind me. I step to the side and point to the envelope.

  “That.”

  “An envelope?” she says cutely confused.

  “Not just any envelope. That’s Dean’s handwriting.” A wave of nausea washes over me.

  Her suitcase is dropped to the ground. “That’s it. I’m done with this bullshit,” Em says, walking towards his apartment door.

  “Where are you going?” I holler.

  “To end this,” she snaps while banging on his door. Banging and banging. No one answers but a guy does open the door in between us.

  “What the hell?” he asks.

  “Sorry, my friend wasn’t answering,” Em says apologetically.

  He looks between the two of us. “Your friend moved out days ago. I saw them cle
aning the place. No one lives there,” he says. “So, relax your hands, will ya?” Then he walks back inside.

  He moved out?

  “He moved?” Em asks me, mirroring my own thoughts.

  Wait! The truck the other night. That guy. He actually left. I grab the envelope from the door.

  “Are you going to read it?” Em asks.

  I shrug. “I…I don’t know. What else is there left to say?”

  She picks up her suitcase and rolls her eyes. “What a douche. He doesn’t even tell you he’s moving, but leaves you a letter I assume. I’d read it, then burn it and count your effing blessings.”

  I haven’t opened the envelope several hours later. It’s just sitting on my dresser untouched and calling my name. I feel icky staring at it, wondering what it says, so I distract myself with music. Plugging my ears with my iPod and singing along with Ariana Grande. Break Free and I are best friends. This is my song and how I feel.

  This is the moment I break free.

  I lay back and try to not think of the words that may be written inside that envelope. It’s still sitting there two days later untouched. Words unread that are burning a hole through the envelope. I find myself picking it up. I have to read it. I need to know why he wrote a letter instead of taunting me. I want to know the reason behind his desolate dark eyes the other night and how he apologized and then just walked away. He’s just gone. It’s not like him.

  That was the Dean from years ago, not the Dean that became wicked and felt the need to hurt me. He just stopped…stopped everything. I feel relieved, yet cautious and curious about the words he’s written on the page. The faint appearance of the Dean that used to care has me sliding my finger under the flap of the envelope and pulling out the letter from him.

  My eyes burn as I read his goodbye.

  I don’t know what my feelings are after reading his letter. I feel broken because of his brokenness. Somewhere inside of him was the boy I took a chance on, the one I saw goodness in. He got lost just like I got lost, and I want to forgive him for what he did. Forgive myself for knowing he felt more than I did. I always knew. Though, I also knew his eyes weren’t only on me and I guess I convinced myself we were both discontent so it was acceptable.