The Flight of Hope

by HJ Bellus

  Fender shows no signs of waking up. His chest keeps a sturdy rhythm, and his breathing is deep. I kick my shoes off and lie down next to him on the bed. And I smell him, Jed. His scent is lingering on the pillows and sheets. This is Jed’s room. His masculine, rich woodsy scent mingled with hints of sweet mandarins strikes me in the gut.

  The smell of Jed is more than overwhelming; I would wrap up in it, allowing it to hug me so damn tight I’d feel like I would never lose my footing again in life. My head is spinning in confusion, and it’s a feeling I don’t like. All the grieving counselors and my family told me life would go on, things would happen, and I would learn to live again. I believed it to be complete bullshit. I would grow angry every time somebody would say it to the point of wanting to die myself.

  But now, here I lie in the bed of a dying man next to his innocent, sweet son and I’m wondering if God is determined to prove me a liar, showing me that life does go on as will my story.

  Fender wrestles around next to me in the bed until he’s clinging to the front of me. His crazy black hair is tickling the tip of my nose. I use my hand to smooth it down and then kiss the top of his head, close my eyes, and say a prayer.

  Dear God,

  I know what you’re doing. You’re proving to me that life does go on. You’re showing me love, where I least expected to find it. Be careful with my already shattered heart, hold it in your hands, and be tender with me. Also be by Jed’s side today as he gets the news that will steer his direction. I hope I can do this, God. Amen.

  I look around the room as I begin to drift off to sleep right along Fender’s side. I’m not sure if Jed’s mom decorated his room with the pictures hanging on the wall. But there’s not one ounce of evidence on these four walls that Jed Bryant is the king of the country world.

  All of the pictures are of Fender and Jed. Every single last one of them. One of them catches my attention, and I find myself suddenly awake so I study it for a long time. It’s of Jed. His arms were much bigger than they are now. He was ripped with chords of muscles bulging from his signature black t-shirt. He has a baseball cap on backward, peering down into the eyes of a newborn baby. The tears aren’t rolling, no they’re sitting on the edge of his eyes waiting to roll down. Genuine joy and happiness fill every single picture.

  Not a glimpse of the man I’m coming to know. Not the man battling for his life. And it’s at this moment that I make a decision. It’s the biggest decision I’ve ever made in a blink of an eye. It may end up being one of my biggest regrets, but I’m going to jump in headfirst. I want that look back on Jed’s face. For him. For Fender. And for his family.

  My eyelids finally flutter shut with the thought of it and the day it happens. Soon sleep takes over, and even though my body isn’t physically exhausted, I don’t have a nightmare. Not a single one. I dream of fishing down at the river, Jed throwing in Fender, Guy right in the middle of the action, and Caleb cursing them for scaring away the fish. It’s one of the best dreams I’ve had in a long time.

  I have no idea how long I’m out until the sound of the sweet giggles and a wet dog tongue glides up my face. I blink open one eye and then the next and come face-to-face with a wet dog nose and two gorgeous rich brown eyes staring at me.

  “He’s kissing you,” Fender sings out. Followed by another sweet chorus of amazing little giggles.

  “Ew doggy kisses.” I wipe the slobber off my face. “How long have you been up?”

  Fender shrugs his little shoulders and gives me an I have no idea face.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Fender rolls over me and grabs the note and phone. He holds up the corner of the Pop-Tart and smiles while sitting on my belly.

  “Daddy left these for me. He told me he had to go to the big city with Nanna and Poppa this morning.”

  My heart breaks for the innocent brown-eyed boy so full of wonder. He has no idea what his dad is going through.

  “Did you read your daddy’s note?”

  “Are you crazy, woman? I don’t know how to read.”

  He just sounded so much like his uncle Caleb it’s creepy.

  “I can read it for you if you want.”

  “Sure, but are you ponstipated in the mornings like Dad?”

  This time I’m giggling at his silly question. “Well, Fender, I’m not quite sure what ponstipated means.”

  He doesn’t need any further urging to burst out with pride, telling me exactly what ponstipated means. “Banky told me Daddy’s been ponstipated because he’s so full of poop that he gets mean and grumpy. But I don’t get it.” Fender nibbles on his breakfast and shrugs his shoulders. “All he has to do is sit down and sing the alphabets and poop, and he’d be all better.”

  I clutch my stomach, laughing my ass off, and the pain of laughter shooting through my stomach. “Well, I’m not ponstipated, and I think what you’re trying to say is constipated. How about that note?”

  Fender throws the note in my face peering down at me waiting for me to read it. The boy is so loving and caring and has no boundaries at all. I unfold the yellow piece of paper and freeze. I’ve never been so taken by the art of somebody’s handwriting. It’s as if Jed’s handwriting is as soul-searching as the songs he sings. It’s a script, yet bold and masculine at the same time.

  “What’s the wrong, Marwee? Do you not know how to read?”

  I reach up and ruffle his hair.

  “Calm down, Mister. I know how to read.” I clear my throat and squint, keeping Fender on edge. “Okay, this is what your daddy’s letter says.”

  I glance up at Fender to see that he’s still bright eyed and bushy tailed, eagerly waiting for the words.

  "Fender boy,

  I hope you found your Pop-Tart and didn’t leave too many crumbs in the bed for me. I’ve gone to town with Nanna and Poppa for the day, but I’ll be home this evening. Have I ever told you my favorite guitar is a Fender and now my favorite boy is Fender? Hey, now I can see you rolling your eyes at me because I tell you that story all the time.

  Be good for Banky and Marlee while I’m gone today. If I get a good report back that you’re a gem of a young man, we will go down to the fishing hole in the next few days.

  Always remember your daddy loves you no matter what, Fender. I’m your biggest fan and I’ll always be here for you, don’t you ever forget that.

  Love, Dad

  PS – I left my phone behind for you and have your favorite playlist up in the music app. Lots of Elvis and Johnny Cash on there for you, son. Love you to the moon and back.”

  Fender sighs, grabbing the paper from me. He clutches it to his chest. “Daddy’s been whiting a lot of these to me. I love them.”

  I smile a sad one. “You should, Fender. He loves you.”

  “I know.” He lets the sheet of paper flutter to the bed and goes about punching in the passcode for the phone.

  “You know your dad’s code?”

  He nods. His tongue is peeking out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s zero, three, one, zero.”

  “Wow. That’s a long number for a little guy like you to memorize.”

  Fender throws both of his hands on his hips, keeping the phone clutched in one palm. Disgust covers his features. “Marwee, it’s my birfday, duh.”

  I remember the numbers he said and repeat them in my head. Zero, three, one, zero. Nothing registers, so I repeat them over and over in my head until the date appears. March tenth. Shock grips my heart. I find it hard to breathe. It can’t be.

  “March tenth?” I ask.

  “Yep, my birfday. The best day ever.”

  Chills race up my spine, sweat beads form on my forehead, and I’m going to be sick. Hope’s due date. My sight clouds and a sudden surge of body heat rises. This has to be a cruel joke. I take one step forward just to be slammed back into my reality by a bulldozer.

  “Marwee.” Little hands cup my cheeks. “Did you hear me?”

  I shake my head.

  “Is you okay? You look sick.”r />
  “I’m just uh…” I bite down on my bottom lip and decide to go with the truth. “I’m sad, Fender.”

  His face lights up with a grin. His little teeth are shining back at me. He leans forward and kisses my forehead then flutters his jet-black eyelashes along my face. I peer down at him to see his face scrunched up in concentration as he gets his lashes to cooperate.

  “Butterfly kisses. Daddy does this when I’m sad until I’m happy again.”

  I wrap my arms around Fender, hugging him tight and wait for the magic of the butterfly kisses. My breathing steadies out as the seconds tick by. A tingling warmth creeping throughout my limbs replaces the searing hot pain burning my insides. I close my eyes, letting each brush of Fender’s eyelashes ground me. This isn’t a cruel and sick joke. No, it’s another gentle nudge from Bentley to move on.

  “You happy yet? My eyes hurt.”

  My heart damn near radiates out of my chest. I grab him by the waist, lifting him up in the air. His hands fly out, and his giggles fill the air. Fender settles back down on my midsection entranced by the phone. Soon music fills the air. It isn’t Elvis or Johnny Cash, but the growling, sexy voice of Jed.

  “It’s my favorite song ever.” Fender places the phone on the bed and begins bobbing his head to the beat of the music.

  Soon he’s jamming on his air guitar to his dad’s upbeat song about late nights and a wild love story. It’s all about falling in love and ignoring the fact you may end up with a broken heart. Living in the moment and embracing each day.

  Okay, okay, Bentley. I get it.

  26

  “And in the middle of the chaos, was you.” -Unknown

  “He’s exhausting.” I smile at Caleb.

  “He never slows down.” Caleb brushes his hand through his thick hair. “Thanks for today. I couldn’t have run the store and kept a good enough eye on him.”

  “I had more fun than I have had in a long time.” I drag the toe of my sandal through the dirt. “There’s something about the pure joy and innocence of Fender that makes any situation a happy and enjoyable one.”

  “Yeah.” Caleb steps closer, pulling me in a hug. “He’s the only bright spot in all our lives right now.”

  I let Caleb hug me, and I hug him right back, burying my face in his chest. One tear followed by several more run down my face and he catches every single one.

  “Have you heard anything?”

  I feel his chin run back and forth over the top of my head. “Yeah, Mom called, and it’s not good.”

  “How?”

  “That’s all she said.” Caleb grips me tighter. “Our family went through hell and back. Right when we rose from the ashes of it, then this. They told him his best odds were to have the surgery. He did. Went through the treatments two years ago and kept up with recording his music and now it’s back. Why?”

  I lean back, still holding Caleb. “I don’t know why. I’ve asked that same question over and over until I drove myself crazy. All I know is this place is healing me, Caleb, and that includes you and your family. I didn’t think it was ever possible, but it is. I’m not going to tell you to find faith or pray because honestly, I don’t know if it works.”

  “I hear you, Marlee.” He kisses the top of my head and steps back as Fender flies out the door. “You’re good for Jed. He’ll never admit it, but you are. He likes you a lot, Marlee, and he never lets anyone in.”

  “He’s good for me, too,” I whisper as Fender takes his uncle’s hand and they walk to the cabin.

  I clutch my chest with both hands. My heart is hammering like a drum. I can’t believe the words I spoke. I don’t recognize them or my voice as I spoke them, but feel them resting in my heart. I’m a shattered woman who has found a broken man and am facing a second chance. Love heals.

  I brush away the tears with the back of my hands and decide dinner at the Bryant restaurant sounds perfect. I’ve grown tired of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and am not in the mood to cook. My Airstream doesn’t quite offer up the perfect cooking environment.

  I place Guy in the large dog run near the playground. It’s new. I don’t have to wonder who put it there or why. It seems building new things is Jed’s way of keeping his mind off things.

  The restaurant is deserted. I’ve had food from here before, but in Styrofoam takeout boxes. It’s always been delicious on the greasy side of food. The elderly waitress is friendly, giving me a menu and taking my drink order.

  “Crown and Coke.”

  “Be right back. I’ll have to grab it from the bar.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her.

  I roam the menu, not needing to look since my stomach is already set on a bacon cheeseburger with a dinner salad. Headlights shine in the front window, but don’t pull into the parking lot. They slow down and round the building. My heart sinks down into my stomach, knowing it’s Jed and his parents.

  “Ma’am, would you mind sitting in the bar to eat?” The waitress sets down the tumbler filled with dark liquid. “I need to wax the floors and thought I’d get an early start.”

  “Sure, no problem.” I rise and grab my drink. “I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger with a dinner salad.”

  “Dressing?”

  “Thousand Island.”

  “It will be right out.”

  I push through the swinging doors that lead into the bar. It’s dim, speckled with only a few patrons, and music is coming from the jukebox. The sound the jukebox emits is nostalgic with a George Jones’s song “He Stopped Loving Her Today.” Of course, the saddest song of all times would be playing.

  I devour my cheeseburger once it arrives and order another drink. The whiskey is doing its job relaxing my entire body. It makes me sick to think of how many nights I muted the pain with vodka. The cold reality is I still have nights like those where I can’t fight the demons.

  The bar’s walls are lined with Jed from pictures to album covers. It makes me smile. It’s as if my thoughts willed him to me. The back door of the bar bursts open. I glance over to see Jed storming in. His snapback cap is shading his eyes. There’s no need to see his eyes to figure out his mood because his body language says it all. His shoulders are thrown back and tense. The muscles in his arms are flexing with pent-up anger. I watch from the corner of the bar as he helps himself to a bottle of Jameson and glass of ice.

  He doesn’t notice me or anyone for that fact as he sits at the end of the bar. He twists off the lid, not even bothering to pour his first drink over ice. The bottle grazes his lips, and he throws it back. I watch him repeat this over and over until he drops his face in the palms of his hands.

  I’m on my feet before I realize what in the hell I’m doing. A Keith Whitley song begins to play. The other patrons are now long gone.

  “You gonna lock up, Jed?” The bartender tosses down a white rag on the bar top.

  Jed nods, not looking up. And now it’s just us left in the bar with a lonely jukebox. I don’t speak when I walk up to him, instead, I grab his hand and wait for him to raise his head. When he does, it’s a sight I’ll never forget. His eyes are wet, his fingers twitch, forearms strained, and his neck goes stiff.

  “Dance with me.” I tug on his hand.

  He doesn’t move, so I move closer and whisper in his ear. “Dance with me, Jed.”

  I tug again, and he stands to his feet. I don’t wait until we are in the middle of the dance floor before wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his hands clutch onto my hips. I press my forehead into his chest.

  Our bodies sway to “When You Say Nothing At All.” His muscular body is rigid and wound with tension. It doesn’t take long until his body begins to relax into mine. His back slumps, his face is nestled in the crook of my neck, and his arms are wrapping low and tight around my waist. I turn my head to find my lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

  I whisper to him, “Sing to me.”

  He doesn’t lift his head or say a word. I run my hand up through his thick black hair, gripping
it.

  “Sing to me. I love the look in your eyes when you sing. The way your lips curve, making love to the words. Just sing.”

  Jed moves us around the dance floor with no effort. After long beats of time, he raises his head, tears streaming down his face, and begins singing the words. His voice cracks at first, but then he finds his deep voice. It starts out slow, but within a matter of seconds, he’s out singing Keith Whitley in every way.

  We dance through timeless country songs, and Jed sings the entire time. The tears dry up, the tension eases, but our bodies never pull apart.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I cup his cheeks.

  Jed’s eyes snap shut as he pushes into my touch. “Scheduled for surgery in four days to remove my appendix then chemo treatment.”

  I press my lips to his, determined to take the pain away from him. My fingers push into the apples of his cheeks. A hiss of pain leaves his lips, and I drink it in. His hands go up into my hair, fisting handfuls, tugging on it as he begins to kiss me. I let my eyes flutter shut, seeing the bright starbursts explode behind them.

  I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opens for me. I lead the kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue, absorbing his taste. It fuels me. It’s everything and more than I thought it could ever be. Jed sinks his teeth into my lower lip, clamping down until a spike of pain shoots through my body. An echoing popping sound surrounds as he lets go.

  He drops his forehead to mine. “Make it go away, Marlee, please. I’m a selfish bastard, but I need you.”

  I take a step back, reach for the hem of my shirt, and pull it up to my torso. Jed’s searing gaze soaks it all in. I lick my bottom lip, tossing my shirt to the floor. Jed loops an arm low around my waist, dipping his head to my collarbone.

  He blazes a trail with his tongue along my skin, setting me on fire. He begins backing us up until my back hits the unforgiving edge of the bar.

  “Wait here.” He nips the skin right above my breast.

  Jed steps back, leaving me quivering with anticipation. I feel everything storming and brewing inside of me. The strongest of all…want. The desire for this man is off the charts. I want him to hold me and wrap me up in his strong arms as we careen into a new future. The end is unknown, but I’ll make the best of every day.