The Taste of Her Words

by Candace Knoebel

  Charlie looked to his hands. “But you told him we could work it out. Remember? He said he was sorry. He was, wasn’t he?”

  I could see her heart breaking as I stood back, letting them have their moment.

  “I hope so, Charlie. But Dad… he was hurt pretty bad when we wrecked. He might not wake up. If he does, he might have to go to jail for what he did.” She paused. “Charlie, look at me.” He lifted his head. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t explain. Things we weren’t ready for. That’s the cruel side of life.”

  A nurse knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Miss Hale, but I need to take Charlie for another x-ray before we can release him. They want to make sure his collarbone is aligning correctly before he goes home in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Andy said as the nurse wheeled him away from the bed.

  “We’ll be right back,” the nurse said with a kind smile.

  After they’d left, I stayed where I was, not sure what she wanted. Dying to be close to her.

  “You know… when the car skidded and then flipped, tossing us around and around, there was a small moment during the chaos when I glimpsed what we could have been. I saw you in our home in your study, editing a masterpiece. I saw Charlie chasing his little sister while I scribbled inside another notebook.” Her eyes found mine. In them, there was so much pain it crippled me. “I don’t know what to do, Dean. I almost lost my boy. I…”

  She broke off, hands covering her face as she let herself feel the reality of everything.

  I was by her side in two strides, gently pulling her forward until her head tucked into my shoulder and her sobs racked against me.

  “I was so scared, Dean. I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do. And what’s worse… in his own way, Matt was trying to tell me he was sorry. Right before it happened… I could see some clarity in his eyes. He wasn’t… he wasn’t all bad. There were pieces in him that just needed a little care.”

  I rubbed her hair, rocking her. “If that’s true, then you can take solace in the fact that he’d be happy it was the two of you who woke up. I doubt he’d have wanted to wake up to discover not only what he caused, but also who he’d put into a coma.”

  “I just… I don’t even know what to think anymore. Charlie has seen so much, Dean. He witnessed his violence. How will that harm him?”

  I pulled back. Cupped her face in my hands as I searched her eyes. “Charlie is a smart kid. Wiser than the both of us. He will work through this the same way you will—by taking it one day at a time.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  I knew where she was going. Read it in her filmy gaze. She wanted to know what I thought about us. If I could respect her wish for time. She wasn’t ready. After everything she’d been through, I wasn’t going to apply any pressure.

  I kissed her forehead. Heard my mom’s words play through my head. “In the meantime, everything else will fall into place as it should, when it should.”

  29

  W I D E A W A K E

  Sometimes,

  The hardest thing you’ll ever have to do

  Is survive.

  I CLOSED MY NOTEBOOK AND rested my pen on top as I looked out the window. As soon as my release paperwork was finished, I’d be going home. Back to my regular life and Charlie. Only, nothing about it would ever be the same.

  Charlie had been home with my parents for the past week. They stayed in town, offering to sleep in my apartment until the doctors released me. Dean stayed by my side every step of the way, only leaving an hour ago when his boss called.

  Matt still hadn’t woken since he was pulled from the car. The doctors didn’t think he ever would. A part of me was still so angry. Mad he’d done what he had. Pissed he’d risked our lives.

  The other part of me, the greater part of my empathetic soul, knew better.

  Matt was in pain… maybe more than I’d ever understand. Although what he did was wrong, what had resulted was far from what he deserved.

  Later, when the sun hid behind the horizon, my nurse escorted me to his room. From what I gathered, his parents had yet to visit him.

  Machines were everywhere, the sterile smell surrounding us, cold and unfriendly. A large tube was hooked up to his face, feeding him oxygen. Like mine, his bruises were beginning to fade to mottled shades of yellow and brown. But unlike mine, his eyes were closed. And maybe they’d stay that way forever.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that.

  I pushed my wheelchair closer to his bed and sat there for a long time, just watching him. Listening to the machines feed him life. I tossed around every memory he’d ever lived inside of in me, because in the end, that was all we became—already-fading memories.

  Most of my memories were ugly. Most were filled with hateful words and unkind gestures. Many moments muddled by time and pain, reshaping the clarity of every scene.

  I tried my hardest to find a good one, but the only memory I could think of was one morning shortly after we’d started sleeping together.

  The time I believed we’d conceived Charlie.

  I remember him bringing me a box of doughnuts and some chocolate milk for breakfast. He’d asked me a million questions about myself, looking at me in those moments as if I were the most interesting person he’d ever met, and my stomach had felt alive with butterflies.

  Maybe God knew what he’d been doing then. Maybe what happened had always meant to, because as sure as I was about Charlie being the best part of me, I knew it was true for Matt as well. Charlie was the magic of that moment. All the good parts of us and what we could have been immortalized within him.

  I held onto that part of Matt as I reached for his hand. “I forgive you, Matt,” I said, squeezing for good measure. “And when you wake up, we can have that conversation I agreed to have with you.”

  I couldn’t see through the tears, so I waved the nurse over before I broke down.

  “He was the one who kidnapped you, isn’t he?” the nurse asked as she pushed me back to my room.

  I nodded, the lump lessening in my throat.

  She placed her hand on my back. “That was very brave of you.”

  “What?”

  “Forgiving someone who never had the chance to say they were sorry.”

  I thought about what she said. Even though he may not have heard me… even though he may not have been able to say he was sorry… I knew we were square.

  “I THINK YOU HAVE EVERYTHING you need,” Mother said as she put the last of the groceries away in my fridge. She shut the door and turned, and I could tell she was trying to hide her need to meddle as best as she could.

  For that, I loved her even more.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, opening my arms for a hug.

  She looked a little put off by the gesture, but hugged me anyway. “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay a little longer? Your father and I can extend our hotel stay. It isn’t a problem.”

  “Mom,” I said, pulling back. I was grinning. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Charlie and I will be fine. You’ve been here for three weeks. It’s time we all try to find some form of normalcy again.”

  She chewed on my words. For a moment, I thought her eyes were misting over, but she inhaled and turned, messing with the garbage in the garbage can. She pulled until the bag came free, and then handed it off to my dad, who was standing back watching us. I knew she was avoiding her true emotions. Even though she liked to seem hard-edged, she was anything but where it counted.

  I walked her to the door and stopped, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Well, if you change your mind, we won’t hesitate to be here. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “And if you find you can’t work and you need a little extra aside from what we gave you, please, don’t be ashamed to ask. Lord knows, we’ve spent plenty on your brother for more superficial reasons.”

  I jerked my head back as a smile grew.

  “What?” she asked, eyebrows dip
ped in question.

  “Nothing,” I said with a small head shake. “I just… I’ve never heard you talk about Josh like that. I thought he could do no wrong in your eyes.”

  She waved me away. “Please, Andy. There you go being melodramatic again. That boy gives me more problems than he gives me reasons to be proud. But you…” She pointed at me as she shook her head. “You, Andy, despite doing the opposite of everything I’ve ever wanted for you, you’ve done nothing but make me proud. You’ve raised a brilliant, kind little boy.” She looked past me, into my apartment. “You made a home as a single mother, despite all the whispers and talk.” She grabbed my shoulder as tears rolled over the hills of my cheeks. “You are probably the strongest woman I’ve ever known. For that, I can be nothing but proud.”

  “You about ready?” Dad said as he strolled up the stairs.

  Mom inhaled the emotions. Wiped under her eyes and turned, offering Dad a harsh look. “I told you an hour ago I was ready, but you insisted on lollygagging.”

  Dad and I exchanged a smile.

  “Yes, of course, Lizzy. The car is running.”

  Mother kissed me on the cheek, and then headed down the stairs as Dad stopped on the top step.

  “You going to be okay?”

  “I think so,” I said, smiling.

  He nodded and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I never have to worry about you, Andy. I love you to the moon.”

  “To the stars,” I said, hugging him close to me.

  I followed them to the exit and waited by the door, watching as they drove off. Just as I let go of the door, an orange butterfly fluttered through and landed on the back of my hand. Every inch of me stilled as it settled, its wings fanning slowly. A sudden calm washed over me as it sat there, unmoving. In its peace, I somehow knew that everything would be all right.

  I had come out on the other side, maybe bruised and battered, but I was alive and well, and I intended to keep it that way.

  I was finally free.

  A gust kicked in from down the hall, and the butterfly flew away drifting toward the end of the hall. Heading upstairs, I shut the door and leaned against it. Charlie was in bed, fast asleep. I should be doing the same, but I headed to my bathroom to change the bandages from where they had to operate to save my liver.

  The horizontal scar was turning pink and still tender. They had removed the drain days earlier, the small hole beginning to heal over. I cleaned it and covered it with a new bandage.

  Heading back into my room, I sat on my bed and stared at my laptop. In the quiet, my thoughts grew loud. I wondered what Dean was doing. I wanted to call him, but I was scared. After everything, would he truly want me? An inkling of fear telling me I’d pushed him too far settled over me.

  Words pawed at the back of my mind, dying to break free.

  Crack open your heart—

  He said to me,

  The words,

  They are not bleeding.

  I ask you to write,

  To move me with words,

  You must hear my pleading.

  Whisper your thoughts—

  I said to him,

  It is you,

  Who has been my muse.

  You hold the chisel,

  Now open me up,

  And watch the words as they spew.

  I lifted the top of my laptop and waited for it to turn on. After a few seconds, I opened Word and let my fingers fly. I wasn’t sure how many hours passed as my truths poured from my soul, but sometime after the sun rose, Charlie stumbled into my room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as I typed the end.

  “What were you doing, Momma?” Charlie asked as he carefully climbed onto my bed. He still struggled to get around with limited use of his arms.

  “You know all those notebooks I like to write in?”

  He nodded.

  “I made them into a book. The book I’ve been wanting to write for awhile now. My poetry for all the world to read.”

  “Cool,” he said, looking at my laptop, seemingly mystified.

  I closed it. Hugged him to me. “Yeah, something like that,” I said as I smiled a real smile. The first since Dean. It was then I knew I’d be okay. Everything would.

  Love would always find a way.

  30

  H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y Y O U R S

  Touch me with your eyes.

  Let me taste your kiss once more.

  IT HAD BEEN ALMOST A month since I last saw Andy.

  I was beginning to think maybe she wanted more than just space. Maybe she realized she didn’t want a relationship at all. I knew she was doing well through the updates Josh gave me in between training for law enforcement. He told me she quit her job at the bar and was working freelance on something special.

  I didn’t ask what though. If she wanted me to know, she knew how to reach me.

  I scrolled to the page of the current novel I was editing and tried to focus on the sentences. More and more, I found my mind wandering to her and everything that had happened, unable to stay on task. Unable to recall the exact angle her mouth took when smiling, or the exact note her laughter hit.

  I kept my hand on the mouse, willing the disquiet in my head to stop. The words just weren’t singing to me like they used to. I read and read sentence after sentence, trying to make sense of it, but it was no use.

  Without her, words were just that—words.

  Sighing heavily, I pushed away from my desk, leaning back in my chair as I dragged my hand up and down the back of my head. I should call her. Just to see how she is. She won’t mind. You know she won’t. She’s probably just waiting on you.

  A packet was dropped on the center of my desk.

  “This came for you. Looks like someone decided to go old school.” It was the new intern, a young man who reminded me a lot of myself when I first started.

  I picked up the large envelope and opened it. Based on the outside label, I knew it was from a local publishing house. Probably another project I’d be fussing over, pushing it to the edge of my time limit.

  They usually submitted their pieces through email.

  This was a first.

  Pulling the chunk of papers out, I sat them on the center of my desk, eyes roaming over the title page.

  Hypothetically Yours

  By: Andrea Hale

  My heart began to beat faster as I read it again, just to be sure I wasn’t imagining it. Heat built inside my palms as my fingers found the corner of the page and lifted, ever so carefully, turning it over to reveal the opening page.

  You and I exist within these words,

  I find the stanza in your smile.

  Discover the meter in the way you touch me.

  Come find me inside these pages.

  Bleed your thoughts onto them and into me.

  I looked up, eyes wide, and then back down, devouring every word. Taking my time to read them thoroughly for all their meaning.

  “What’s that?” Manny asked as he leaned on the edge of my desk.

  “A piece from an up-and-coming author,” I said as I flipped the page. I couldn’t peel my eyes away to look at him.

  He knew the language, because he moseyed off to leave me to it with a short chuckle.

  IT ONLY TOOK ME TWO hours to devour her words. I was that hungry.

  She wrote about our love affair, chronologically, starting with some of her older poems… the ones I’d read from the tree, but she’d cleaned them up. Then she transitioned into what she wrote while we worked together on her manuscript, telling secrets of falling in love with a boy too young.

  My heart raced, dancing with her as she carried me on a journey I never wanted to leave. I felt her desire. Her confusion. Her pain as the words evolved into the lonely side of love. Of endless days without a single touch.

  And when I neared the end, she moved into poems I knew nothing about. Recent thoughts about forbidden love and abandon. About tragedy and hope.

  When I came to the last page, my pulse was
going crazy. My fingers shook as I flipped it and there, in black and white, was what I’d come to think of as my poem, only she’d added a line. A line that made my palms sweat and my knees weak.

  I found you in between heart beats,

  Inside a caught breath,

  Hiding behind a cage of bone.

  Dance with me, you said.

  Find our rhythm home.

  I’m ready if you are.

  She still loved me. Still wanted what we’d only just begun. I opened my drawer and put the manuscript in before locking it.

  “Where you goin’?” Terry, my desk neighbor, asked as I stood from my desk.

  I looked over at him. “I’m going to find my rhythm home.”

  31

  O U R E N D I N G

  Fate was four hollow letters without meaning before you.

  One Year Later…

  DEAN SKIMMED THE CAP OF the red pen across my bare stomach and down the curve of my thigh. Goose bumps followed as he planted kisses over the invisible trail, whispering the words I had just written.

  “If you don’t stop, we’re never going to finish, Mr. Editor,” I said, heat building between my legs. With just one touch, he ruined me, deliciously, bending me to his will.

  “How can you expect me to control myself when you’re wearing nothing but a lacy bra and that thin strap of material you call underwear?” he said, scratching at the band around my waist, hunger in his eyes. “You’re nothing but beautiful torment. A delectable treat my mouth is watering to taste.”

  I giggled as I placed my hand over his. “In case you forgot, I only have one week until this is due to my editor. And he isn’t very patient when it comes to missing deadlines. I have to finish.”