“What’s going on?” she whispered.
I waved my hand in front of her. I couldn’t concentrate on what was being said to me.
“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I hung up the phone.
“What’s wrong,” Jenna asked, looking scared. “It’s not my mum, or dad, is it?”
“No, love,” I said reassuringly.
“Then what?” she asked, impatient to know the details.
“Chad’s been in an accident.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Two weeks later.
I watched the cortege of cars in stunned silence.
For the first time in months, darkness crept into my heart, possessing my entire being. I’d fought so long to pull myself out of the quagmire of despair, but as hard as I tried, I was knee deep, struggling to pull myself free.
Never in my worst nightmares would I have imagined this day would come, and worst of all, that I would be asked to play such an integral part.
My whole body trembled as Jenna and I walked down the long driveway toward the road.
An inordinate number of cars were parked on either side of the private road.
It was the moment I'd been dreading.
The polished black hearse slowed to a stop.
Inside lay the black coffin carrying the broken and battered body of the only man I ever truly loved.
Chad didn’t survive the crash.
How could he have?
Seeing pictures of his car, there was no way he would have walked away from such devastation.
He was killed instantly--his life snuffed out in a matter of seconds. Gone before I’d received the initial call.
The doctors said Chad’s injuries, had he survived, would have been life changing. He wouldn’t have been able to walk or even feed himself and a small part of me thanked God, or whoever was watching over us, for sparing him that existence. Being a burden would have been the worst thing imaginable for him.
It took one drunk driver and a seventeen-car pile-up, and he was gone.
I was angry-- heartbroken.
I wanted revenge.
After everything we’d been through together, and this was how it ended.
I was in disbelief--bereft for what I'd lost, and no amount of prayers would ever bring him back to me. To all of us.
Jenna clutched my hand tightly. She smiled bravely at me, but I couldn’t even force myself to return that smile.
She squeezed my hand, letting me know she was there for me, and I could see in her eyes, she was broken too.
Over time, she'd grown to love and care for Chad.
She’s the most gracious person I have ever met, and despite what we put her through, she knew my love for her was absolute, but it was Chad’s sacrifice in walking away that earned her respect, and ultimately her love for him as a friend. To Jenna, he was family, and she embraced everything about him, allowing him into our lives, into our children’s lives, and she never regretted that decision.
Uncle Chad. The biggest kid of them all.
Without Jenna, he might have died without knowing how much I loved him as my friend. How much we all loved him.
I would tell the girls about him when they were older, and show them pictures of the three of them together.
Pictures of him rolling around the floor, playing with them, making them laugh out loud. The joy etched on all of their faces would tell my girls what they needed to know.
Uncle Chad was special–their very own guardian angel.
No drunk driver would ever be able to take that away.
“Come on, darling.” Jenna led the way as I tried to avoid looking at the coffin.
I didn’t want to see it--or believe he was lying in there.
You know he’s in there, the voice inside my head told me, trying to force me to face reality.
I wanted him to jump up and tell us all it was a sick joke. Yes, we’d all be mad, but five minutes later, we’d love him that little bit more.
I couldn’t hold my tears back.
I looked at Jenna. I needed her to help me--I was losing it–losing myself again.
“Jen,” I croaked. “Help me.”
Her face crumbled too, and while I knew she was genuinely heartbroken over Chad, these tears were for me. She never could stand to see me cry.
“Let’s get in the car, then we can go and say a proper goodbye to him. He’ll haunt us if we don’t.” She let out a little laugh, and she was right. If anybody could find their way back to cause mischief, Chad Mitchell was definitely the man to do it.
Chapter Twenty-six
To this day, I don’t remember any part of the service.
Faces passed me by. Some looked familiar, some didn’t.
A few hello’s here and there, but I didn’t want to talk.
Melissa was there. She was crushed by Chad’s death. One look at her face, and I could see the depth of her grief.
Our eyes met across the room a few times–the feelings of guilt ate away at me. She made no attempt to talk to me, but I know both she and Jenna spoke for a short time. I have no idea what was said between them. I never asked Jenna and don’t intend to.
What I do remember is sitting in the chapel with my eyes closed, images of him, of us flashing through my mind–wondering what would have been if all those years ago he hadn’t run away.
Would he still be alive?
I was torturing myself and shut down those thoughts as soon as they floated into my mind. Thinking about what ifs was dangerous and would change nothing. I made my choice and it was the right one. I never regretted it.
The celebrant finally stopped speaking and the music sailed out of the speakers. I cringed upon hearing the God-awful power ballad drone out of the speakers. It even had a key change--I never want to hear it again.
I guess it was Melissa’s choice, but it gave me something to chuckle over. Chad wasn’t the power ballad type.
I refused to look as the coffin disappeared behind the purple velvet curtain onward to his final destination.
What was left of Chad would be flown across the Atlantic--his final resting place in California. That saddened me most of all, but I had no right to what was left of him. Still, I couldn’t help being selfish.
I would have nowhere to go when I wanted to talk to him.
I still feel physical pain when I think back to that cold winter’s day.
Since then, I’ve blocked most of it out of my mind.
“You never grieved properly for him. That’s what funerals are for, Zane,” Jenna still tells me when we talk about Chad. “You wouldn’t even look at the coffin.”
I know she’s right, to a degree, I blocked it out for another reason–a reason she has yet to fathom.
Can you guess?
I’m sure I’m not alone here. If I didn’t see his coffin disappear behind that curtain, he isn’t really gone.
In the make-believe part of my mind, he jetted back to the States, and he’s there now, healthy and happy, too busy to speak to me.
Jenna knows part of me lives in denial and tries to talk about the funeral, but I don’t like to. My wife is very clever and astute – she’s trying to force me to accept reality.
Reluctantly, I do accept it.
“Am I competing with a ghost?” she asked me once.
“You’re not competing with anybody, alive, or dead,” I snapped back, angry at what I considered to be a stupid question.
“You can’t blame me for asking.”
“Even if Chad was alive, there’s no question in my mind who I would be with.”
She never broached the topic again.
I came home from work one day and two new pictures occupied pride of place in our sitting room. One of me, Jenna, Chad and the girls–smiling for the camera. I remember the day it was taken.
The other picture is of me and Chad, together. I can remember when that was taken too, and I cherish the memory, but it is testament
to how amazing Jenna is for putting our past aside and keeping Chad so close.
And it’s here that my story draws to a close.
There’s nothing left to say about that part of my life.
The Final Chapter
I’m at home, sitting at my desk, and the whole story has finally been told.
The house is deathly quiet, and it seems apt, that after closing the story a few minutes ago, I can sit and reflect on the last few years of my life.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been, which is odd considering what I lost, but, that’s life, as the old song goes.
My family means more to me every passing day--I’m only too aware how somebody can be ripped away at a moment’s notice.
I tell them I love them all the time, just like I did before, but now, there’s a built-in panic that reminds me to say it.
What would I do if I lost them and I’d forgotten to say it?
*
Reflecting on my past has been a cathartic experience.
Harrowing at times, devastating in others, but necessary all the same.
It feels like a lifetime since ‘She Loves to Watch Me Play’ was first released to the world, and I know I’ve said to the many people who messaged me privately, asking me why I put my life in the hands of the public--there was one specific reason for it.
It’s important I tell you, this was never about my ego, or my flaws as a human being, husband, father or friend.
It was to give life to the most important man I’d ever known.
The man who saved my marriage and my life, pulling me from a despair I wasn’t strong enough to escape from myself.
You see, in the pages of these books, Chad Mitchell will never die.
In my thoughts, words, and by extension, in yours too, he will live forever.
And he deserves nothing less.
Sleep well, my friend.
I still miss you.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My family – Thank you for everything!
Gloria, Carol & Susan – my wonderful friends and the heart of ‘Team Zane.’ I am so happy you were here to finish this journey. I’m relieved the story has now been told, and look forward to more adventures with you all. Thank you for everything.
To all of my friends in Zane’s Hangout, Zane’s Angels and Zane’s Army – Thank you for your unwavering support and loyalty
Angela Watson, Kylie Madden, Marcus Brown, and Serena Amadis. My Beta readers. Thank you so much!
Junction Publishing – Netta and Marco – Thank you for the never-ending support. You are the best at what you do!
With love… Zane x
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Zane Michaelson lives in Cheshire, England with his Wife and two adorable children.
For more information or just to touch base with Zane you will find him at:
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Or drop him a line at [email protected]
Copyright © 2018 Zane Michaelson
All rights reserved.
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