Crazy Madly Deeply

by Lily White

Where Michaela was weak, I was strong. And in the places where I fell down, Michaela was the person dragging me up again. And as long as neither of us ever lost sight of what was needed by the other, there would never come a time where one person failed while the other continued to move forward.

  “Maybe she’s here to say goodbye,” Michaela whispered, our hands locked together as we approached the open grave. At the front, a preacher stood to lead the funeral, and to the side stood Dr. Silva and Angela, and a few friends that had been true to Deli in school. There weren’t many people who’d known her well. There weren’t many who were ready and willing to shirk the expectations of a town still mired in a refusal to accept the differences in others, but there were a few who cared enough to let go of past demands without caring what the town would think of them.

  When I’d buried my parents, I’d stood alone. It felt right to have people with me now that it was time to bury Del beside them.

  “Maybe,” I finally answered. “But if she’s just a figment of my imagination, there’s always a possibility she’ll never leave. Not fully.”

  Michaela lifted my hand to place a soft kiss on my knuckles. “Of course, she’ll never be fully gone. She’ll always be in your heart. In your memories. In the places that matter. I like to think when we lose someone, they live on in the people who loved them. Parents live on in their children. Siblings live on in their families. Friends live on in the lives they touched, even if it was only briefly.”

  We stopped walking before reaching the grave, Michaela turning to me before placing her palm against my cheek and directing my eyes down to her.

  “Delilah lives on, Holden. Her legacy. Her memory. Her beauty, both inside and out. Just because she’s no longer physically here, it will never mean she’s truly gone.”

  Leaning over, I kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

  She grinned. “Now if you could only convince her to stop calling me small, perhaps we can just learn to live as one big, happy family.”

  Her eyebrow arched and I laughed, the levity easing the sorrow.

  After taking our places, the preacher went through the standard funeral dialogue, the words lost to me as my eyes continued to drift to where my sister stood in the distance. She didn’t appear to know she was attending her own funeral - but then a memory wouldn’t know, would it?

  I’d chosen not to speak at the funeral, not to risk losing my composure in front of a group of people. It wasn’t that they’d judge me for the loss of control, but I still couldn’t find the right words that needed to be spoken.

  As the funeral came to a close and a cool breeze blew past, Delilah’s eyes widened in the distance, her gaze no longer locked to me but something behind me. Turning as much as I could without drawing attention, I saw nothing that would have stolen her focus. Shaking my head, I inwardly chastised myself for even responding to the actions of a hallucination.

  My eyes drifting back to the memory that wouldn’t leave, I watched as her lips pulled into a broad smile, the expression stretching her cheeks as pure radiance beamed from her eyes. My brows drew together, my jaw dropping as Deli opened her arms.

  I almost dropped to my knees when my parents came into view, both embracing my sister before the three of them turned to look at me.

  Tears were dripping from my eyes when Michaela’s voice broke through the hallucination. “Holden? Are you okay?”

  Forcing myself to look away from the vision of my family, I glanced between the concerned expressions of Michaela, Angela and Dr. Silva. I hadn’t noticed that the funeral had ended, the other attendees walking off while the people who mattered the most remained nearby.

  Without speaking, I lifted my gaze to look out to where Deli had been standing to see that she and my parents were waving goodbye. My legs weakened beneath me, three sets of hands locking to me to keep me from falling forward.

  “Holden! Talk to me!”

  Drawing a breath was damn near impossible.

  My family faded as they walked away, my mouth falling open to whisper, “I - I think she’s gone.”

  Dr. Silva’s deep voice sounded next. “Who’s gone? Holden? Are you seeing Delilah?”

  Shaking my head, I cried as my mouth pulled into a smile I couldn’t help. “Not anymore, doc. At least, not at the moment. My parents just came and took her away.”

  Michaela gasped, her hands locked to mine. When I finally turned to look at her face, I saw that she was crying.

  Releasing her hold, I reached to wipe the tears for her cheeks. Pressing my forehead to hers, I whispered, “I think Delilah finally said goodbye.”

  . . .

  The back door of the moving van slid shut, Michaela dusting the dirt and grime from her hands as she turned to face me. Both our bodies were drenched in sweat, a black bandana tied around her head to hold her hair back and out of her face. “I think that’s the last of it. We should probably get a shower and get dressed or we’ll be late for the closing.”

  Wiggling her brows, she stepped closer and tugged me to her by my shirt. “As soon as we have that fat check in hand, we’ll be heading to New York! Aren’t you excited?”

  It had been two months since Deli’s funeral and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since watching her walk off with my parents in the cemetery. Dr. Silva credited the rehab and medications, but I still couldn’t stop wondering what had occurred that day. Glancing back at the house where I’d grown up, I was both excited and sad to leave it behind. “I’m happy we’re leaving, Michaela. Of course, but it’s just weird how much we’re getting for the place. The buyer paid three times the asking price.”

  She wrapped her arm around my waist, ignoring the sweat that soaked my shirt. “Well, the houses around here are being bought and remodeled by developers. Maybe because yours wasn’t trashed by squatters, it’s worth more?”

  “Doubtful. What developer would pay more than what I was asking? It’s not like they approached me.”

  Her face tipped up at me. “Stop worrying about a good thing, Holden. Just accept that fate was kind for once. Race me to the shower?”

  The wicked grin she wore forced a jolt of lust through my body. “Only if I get to wash every part of you.”

  “Deal.”

  Michaela took off at full speed, my steps heavy as I chased behind her. We spent a good hour beneath the spray of the water ensuring that every square inch of our bodies was clean. It was a mad dash to get dressed and make it to the closing on time, but the cheap car we’d worked long hours to purchase got us there with five minutes to spare before the closing started.

  Practically running to the door, we burst inside, the receptionist looking up with astonishment as we barreled through the door.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “We didn’t want to be late.”

  Staring at us from over the rim of her wire framed reading glasses, she smiled. “You must be Holden Bishop. The buyer and agent are waiting in the conference room already. Can I get you two something to drink before you join them?”

  Shaking my head, I wanted to get the closing over with, return to the van I’d left at the house and start the long drive to New York. “No, we’re fine. We’ll just get this over with.”

  Nodding, she extended a hand toward a closed set of doors. “The conference room is through there. Congratulations on the sale of your property.”

  “Thanks,” I said, tugging Michaela toward the closed doors.

  Opening the door, I stopped mid step to see who was seated on the other side of the table. My eyes narrowed on the stubborn woman, my heart thumping in my chest as a question tumbled over my lips. “Can I ask what the hell it is you’re doing here?”

  Angela grinned, her hair pulled back in a bun and her black button down shirt struggling to remain fastened over her chest. “Buying a house? What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

  Michaela was notably silent at my side.

  “Stepping in further, I closed the door behind me, held a seat for Michaela to sit befor
e taking mine. My eyes never left Angela’s.

  “I was under the impression a developer was purchasing the house for three times what it’s worth.”

  Her grin stretched wider. “Yeah, well, you kids need a fresh start and I’m diving into the real estate business. It’s a win-win. Now shut up and sign on the dotted line.”

  “Actually,” the older male agent said from where he sat beside her, “I believe that’s my line.”

  Reaching across the table, the man with silver hair and a black suit offered his hand. “My name is Mark Holt. I’m Angela’s agent. You must be Mr. Bishop.” After shaking my hand, he shook Michaela’s, their introductions being made while I continued glaring at a woman who wore a shit eating grin.

  Glancing away from her, I caught Mr. Holt’s gaze. “You’re a horrible agent. She’s buying the property for more than it’s worth.”

  Laughter shook his chest. “Yes, well, I attempted to explain that to her, but my client is ridiculously stubborn. That being said, this closing should be short and sweet. I’ll need both your signatures where indicated on several documents and then we can call the transaction complete.”

  It didn’t take long to sign the documents, and within a half hour, we’d said our goodbyes to the agent as we walked out of the building. Turning to Angela as soon as we were out of earshot of the agent, I said, “You shouldn’t have done that. We could have made the move with what I was asking for the house.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, her attempt to hide them pathetic. “Yeah, I know. But I want you two to have the best start possible. And I can afford it. You’ve been through too much, Holden. You deserve a helping hand.”

  Sorrow flooded me, the happiness of leaving Tranquil Falls mired by the regret of having to leave Angela behind. “We’ll come and visit every chance we can. And we’ll stay in touch.”

  She swiped the tears from her eyes. “Damn right, you will. Just know if you try to keep from calling me, I’ll hunt you down.”

  My lips were trembling, the emotion too much. Opening my arms, I pulled her into a tight hug. My cheek pressed to her head, I whispered, “I’ll miss you, Angela. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  Stepping out of the hug, she craned her neck to look up at me. “Just promise me you’ll do something good with it, Holden. That you won’t give up. You deserve more than you’ve been given so far. And I want an invitation to your first art show, you hear me? I’ll even dress nicely for your first big, fancy event.”

  Nodding my head, I couldn’t speak around the lump in my throat. Angela turned to Michaela and the two women said their goodbyes, the tears flowing freely as they whispered back and forth.

  It was difficult to walk away from a woman who had saved me after the accidents that had shattered my life, the same stubborn woman whose tenacity had been enough to pull me from the shadows and kick my ass back into the light.

  But that’s how it goes when you’re moving forward. You never truly leave people behind even if you’ll rarely see them. I assumed this is what it felt like to leave the nest as a child turned adult. Whether leaving for college, or marriage or a job, you walk away toward a new horizon, knowing full well you left a piece of yourself back with the people who helped push you to a future they believed you deserved.

  I was leaving a town that had done nothing but hurt me, but I was also leaving with a woman who loved me more than I had loved myself. A piece of my heart would always remain behind with a family buried beneath the earth, and with another kind of family that would always be in touch.

  It was bittersweet to pass the diner on my way out of town. To pass the cemetery and the curve where the car accident with Jack had started the domino effect of an unfortunate life. But after leaving the town I’d wanted to escape for so long, I realized it wasn’t the locations of where I’d been and where I was going that mattered the most - it was the experiences that helped shape me, and the experiences that would come.

  You can live your life regretting the misfortune you’d suffered, or you could do what I was doing now: Pick yourself up from the heaping piles of suffering, dust yourself off, and fight to continue living on.

  EPILOGUE

  Michaela

  New York was a far stretch from the lazy, pampered life of Tranquil Falls. After arriving to our new apartment, following a drive that took several days, Holden and I both experienced a culture shock like no other. It didn’t feel like we’d simply left one town for another, or even one state for another. It felt like we’d left the country altogether and were trust into a life that was as foreign to us as switching planets would have been.

  It took months to get used to the hustle and bustle, the constant sensory blast of a city that never slept. But as the weeks moved forward, and as we both settled into our new lives, we realized we’d missed out on the magnitude of experiences that New York had to offer.

  Even now, I was attempting to navigate a packed sidewalk as I threw my arm out to call a cab. People swept around me like a school of fish, barely missing colliding against me as they passed. My feet were killing me in new heels, the chill of fall nipping at my skin where it was exposed by the strapless formal gown. But I wouldn’t have asked for it to be any different. I was too excited to care about the pain in my feet, too happy to care that I’d left my shawl in the apartment because I’d been a rush to get out the door.

  I couldn’t be late to the event I was attending, and I was nervous that I would trip and fall, or say the wrong thing. But thankfully, I had a friend who would be waiting for me, a confidant that would stand at my side and cry with me when the tears finally began to fall.

  Finally flagging down a taxi, I climbed into the backseat and gave the driver the address of the event. He pulled into traffic and my hand flew to my chest in fear of how recklessly he drove. Holden and I had considered using the car more to get around the city, but I didn’t think I would ever get used to the traffic or the way people drove. For now, I was happy to travel on foot, or use the subway when the destination was too far.

  The drive took a little over twenty minutes, the taxi lurching to a stop outside the large glass and metal building that lifted six stories into the sky. I paid the driver and climbed out of the car, my heart in my throat by the time I spotted Angela waiting outside. Running up to her as fast as I could in my heels, I threw my arms around her and squeezed her tight.

  “It’s so good to see you,” I blurted out. “Was your flight okay?”

  “Well, if you call being stuffed in a shoebox and having to be a contortionist to fit in the seat they give, sure, it was great.” Her smile was in contrast to her words. From her expression, I could tell she was just as excited as me to be here. “Is Holden already inside?”

  Nodding, I took her hand in mine. “He’s been working so hard over the past few weeks. He left early this morning to get here and make sure everything was perfect. I’m so nervous for him.”

  Releasing my hand, Angela wrapped her arm through mine, the sequins of her gown brushing against my skin. I’d never seen her more beautiful than she was now with her hair swept up into a French twist, a crystal barrette holding fastened at the side. “You have nothing to be nervous about. The boy has more talent in his pinky toe than most people have in their entire bodies. The only thing I’m nervous about is whether we can make him proud as we’re blundering about.”

  Pausing, she took a moment to look me up and down, her eyes widening slightly as she studied the body hugging bodice of my red gown and the long flowing skirt that swept over my legs down to my ankles. “Okay. Well, never mind. You look amazing. The only thing you have to be nervous about is whether I’ll embarrass him blundering about.”

  Laughter blew over my lips. “Whatever. You look amazing, too.” Sighing, I stared at the entrance door and the line of people slowly moving inside now that the event had started. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I can be. Let’s hurry and get inside before all the free champagne is gone.
I need a drink or ten to stop worrying that I’ll make a show of myself crying.”

  Nodding my head and rolling my shoulders back, I tugged her closer to my body and moved to get in line behind the people walking inside. Once we’d made it through the doors, I gasped to see the beauty of the interior. Ceilings rose twenty feet above our heads, lights shining down that highlighted the entryway where staff stood in black gowns and tuxedos to pass out flutes of champagne and small pamphlets that discussed the art exhibited inside. I knew several artists were here this evening, but from what Holden told me, his work took up the majority of the floor space, his exhibition so vast that it filled the main room, while the other artists were tucked away in smaller rooms on the left and right. To our side, a mahogany desk sat, the black haired woman behind it filling out papers for the purchases people would make throughout the event. I had to bite my tongue not to squeal like a little girl from my excitement.

  Passing the drink tray, Angela slammed one flute, and took another to sip as we entered the main room. I giggled beneath my breath at the server’s expression in response to her brazen behavior. With champagne in hand, I kept one arm wrapped in hers, our steps slow as we meandered inside, our breath stolen as the exhibit came into view.

  It was like the faces, lives and stories of Tranquil Falls had been transported to New York, the details so precise that if you didn’t know it was paint, you’d swear you were staring at photographs of the myriad of people that made up our former town.

  “Oh, dear God,” Angela muttered, “He has a picture of me yelling at the cooks in the kitchen.” Angela’s cheeks flared red, but you couldn’t miss the pride in her eyes. Holden had captured every detail, down to the glint of silver of the cooking utensils, and the worry behind the staff’s eyes. Even though the scene looked like an angry employer, you could see the humor in the image he’d painted, the kindness in Angela’s gaze even as her finger pointed at one man who had burned several hamburger patties on the grill. I swear I could smell the food, could feel the grease on my face, could hear the low murmur of noise floating in from the dining room.