Embrace the Moment

by Andrea Michelle

  That’s something though. She heard me. I believe she heard me.

  With that, I stand and give her mom a hug. “Please, call me if she wakes up. I don’t care what time it is. I want to be here with her. Please,” I plead.

  She smiles and pinches my cheek. “You’re a good boy, Joshua.”

  I laugh. “Shhh...someone may hear you. Girls don’t like good boys, Mrs. Shaw. You might ruin my reputation.”

  She glances at Riley and then to me. “Nah, you’re wrong. It’s the good ones they give their hearts to.”

  I suck in a breath of air. I’m momentarily stuck on her words. Give their hearts to. Riley trusts me with her heart. She has never trusted anyone with her heart. She trusts me, and I acted like a jackass with a temper. Now, she is here with staples in her head, a confused memory of tonight’s events, and a headache from hell I would presume. God, I’m stupid. I should have listened to her. We should have just walked away from Dean and never looked back. Tonight was supposed to be a beautiful beginning for us, and it ended up being the beautiful hell that we always seem to get thrown into.

  Every time I attempted to shut my eyes, my mind replayed watching Riley fall and hit her head. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, and then I plugged my ears with my iPod listening to anything and everything to get my mind to shut up—it never did.

  I am in the kitchen when Joey and Tatum come wandering in, wrapped up in a single blanket. They both jump two feet in the air when I say, “Hey.” I guess they don’t see me sitting at the table. I laugh, which made them laugh, and for a minute it feels good to let go—until I remember why I was feeling sad—and the reason why I can’t just climb into Riley’s bedroom window and hold her.

  “What are you doing up so late?” Joey asks me pulling down two mugs and two tea bags.

  “I can’t sleep.” I say, thrumming my fingers on the table.

  “Awww...you’ve got it bad for my sister, huh?” Tatum says, giving me that look that says I’m sweet, and she loves me. It makes me smile. I nod.

  “It just sucks. The past few months have been hell. You know? And then it was like we were getting a second chance. We finally seemed to cross that invisible line and then this happened.” I’m not meaning to sound whiney or wallow in my own pity part, but it does truly suck. It’s like every time Riley and I take one step forward—something happens, or someone happens, and we are sent hurdling backward again.

  Joey walks back to the table holding the two mugs of tea for her and Tatum.

  “So, why are y’all still up?” I ask.

  Joey yawns and points to Tatum. “It’s her fault. She was talking in her sleep and—,”

  “She tried to smother me with a pillow. It was attempted murder. Some best friend your sister is to me.” Tatum says, sipping her tea. “Truthfully, I was probably telling her to quit snoring. I’m sure that is what I said in my sleep,” she adds.

  “I do not snore.”

  “So do.”

  They go back and forth like two year olds for a few seconds before Tatum puts her hand over her mouth. “OMG! I forgot to feed, Tink,” she says.

  “Where’s your key? I’ll go,” I offer a little too eager.

  She grins and walks to Joey’s bedroom returning with her keys. She kisses my cheek and says, “I hope one day I find a guy as sweet as you, Josh.”

  There is that word again. Sweet.

  So, I’m a nice, sweet good guy. My reputation will be burned to ash before graduation.

  As I walk next door, I wonder if Riley will always be attracted to the sweet, good guy persona, or if she is secretly attracted to the asshole that put her in the hospital. She spent two years with Dean. She had to have been attracted to something about him. I just don’t know what it was. Dean is definitely NOT the nice, sweet, good guy. We are definitely nothing alike.

  Once inside Riley’s house, I am enveloped in the scent that is—her home. It’s cinnamon and vanilla, always reminding me of baked goodies, like a honey bun or something.

  I go about my task of feeding Tink and refilling her water bowl. Next up, I open Riley’s bedroom door so Tink can find her comfy sleeping spot next to Riley, but then I remember she isn’t there.

  Riley.

  Shit. My heart is splintering.

  I don’t know why I get hit with a moment of nostalgia with my hand halted on to the doorknob. Maybe it’s the feeling like I’m invading her privacy. Maybe it’s the memories of the last time we were in here, when Riley could barely look at me because she thought I lied to her and that I was the father of Preslee’s baby. It most definitely is the gut wrenching way her eyes looked when they met mine earlier today—the sadness and disappointment, the way they desired me, and then with a deep inhale and quick blink—they hated me for everything that had happened.

  “Well, Tink? Ready to go to sleep?” I’ve officially lost my cool. I’m talking to a cat. She purrs and rubs against my leg. As soon as I open the door, she takes off to Riley’s bed, finding her pillow, kneading and curling up until she’s set.

  I stare at Riley’s door as I remember the way her body looked wrapped in nothing but a towel and how much my hands itched to feel what was underneath it and the way her eyes pleaded with me to be careful with her because she was broken—all that has changed now. Riley knows the truth. She knows I love her and only her, and she loves me.

  I’ve always thought bedrooms tell a story about a person. For example, my bedroom says I’m a football player. My guitar and music collection express my love for the art. Random pieces of paper with scribbled lyrics are scattered around my own room. Just like I see in her room—just one example of how Riley and I are two kindred souls entwined.

  I take a minute to study the story Riley’s room tells me. I’ve been in her room countless times, and have paid attention to the way it changes from year to year. Like the lime green walls with Tinker Bell stuffed animals and decor, switching to N’Sync posters and nail polish to what it is now—one black wall covered in colored chalk poems, and a bulletin board with random snapshot photos with Post-It notes of more jotted down poems. I smile at the photos and frown at the poems. Her writing is dark and a bit depressing. I stand there looking around at it, thinking that must be what lives inside Riley. Sadness—it breaks my heart.

  I spot a photo in a frame on top of her chest of drawers. It piques my curiosity, and I look hard at it, feeling the sudden urge to cry for this little girl, and for the familiar face in the background I long to see each day. It’s a picture at Riley’s fifth birthday party. She is dressed in her Tinker Bell costume that she used to always wear. Her mom must have taken the photo because she is the only one not in it. Riley’s dad is leaning over her sitting at the table blowing out the candles. She looks so happy. Her hand is in my hand, and I’m looking at it with a boyish grin. My mom has her finger pointed at us and is smiling up at my dad. She thought we were the cutest thing together. My parents are standing just to the side, and dad’s hand is placed on her stomach, where Joey was beginning to grow. It was placed as though he was actually holding her tiny hand before he really could. It’s a picture perfect moment.

  They don’t come often, and that one had hidden flaws. Just moments after that picture was taken, I gave Riley the toy car that has been sitting secretly in her jewelry box for years. My mom gave her the Barbie, which led to a memory she had kept to herself. Everything spiraled into chaos.

  The darkness seeped through that happy moment when Riley unknowingly told a secret she’d promised to keep, not realizing exposing her dad’s affair would result in lasting consequences for her family—for her. No child should be placed in that position, to have seen at such a young age the lies behind someone’s eyes, to realize the one they love the most in the world has a facade, to walk in on her own father having sex with her babysitter and being asked not to tell—no wonder she didn’t trust easy.

  Nonetheless, the picture captured one of the first connections between Riley and me—for that—I
smile. I touch my mom’s face, swiping with my other hand a tear that I didn’t even realize had fallen down my cheek. Shit, I miss her so goddamn much.

  I find a shirt of Riley’s lying on her bed and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent that is just...her. It’s not perfume or any fake smell that girls douse their skin with to make them smell pleasant.

  No, this smell is a treat to my nose—like lotion or bath wash mixed with everything that is, her own sweetness. It wraps around me like a blanket, warming me with images of her hands tangled in my hair, as I taste just a bit of the sweetness off of her neck. Maybe it’s creepy, but I take the shirt with me when I leave. Maybe it will give me pleasant dreams.

  CHAPTER 3

  I’m cold, scared and confused. I can hear them talking around me, but they can’t hear me. No matter how hard I try to open my eyes, they are just too heavy. No matter how hard I try to make my lips move, they just stay clamped shut. What happened?

  “Why isn’t she waking up?” I hear Josh ask my mom again as he rubs tiny circles on my palm—it’s soothing.

  “She is okay, Josh. The doctor said it’s normal for her to sleep like this. Don’t worry. You should go get some sleep. When you get back in the morning, I can assure you she will be awake and happy to see you, as always. Okay?” My mom’s sympathetic voice assures him.

  I can feel him whisper in my ear, but I can’t respond. “Baby, I’m so sorry this happened to you, and I’m sorry I let my temper get the better of me. I’m sorry you got hurt, and I didn’t protect you, but more than that baby...I’m sorry I might not be here when you wake up. I love you so much. So much that it hurts.” I want to respond, to ask him what he is talking about, but my mouth won’t move. My eyes won’t open, and it scares me. I try so hard and feel as though I squeeze his hand, but I’m not sure I really do.

  Then I’m bereft and cold.

  “Please, call me if she wakes up. I don’t care what time it is. I want to be here with her. Please,” he pleads.

  “You’re a good boy, Joshua,” she explains.

  He is.

  “Shhh...someone may hear you. Girls don’t like good boys, Mrs. Shaw. You might ruin my reputation.” If I could laugh, I would. His reputation of a bad boy with a cold heart is just a facade. I know the truth.

  “Nah, you’re wrong. It’s the good ones they give their hearts to.” She is so right. You have my heart, Josh. I could never give it to anyone else but you.

  I want to wake up. I’m done sleeping. I want to wake up now. Please, wake up now.

  I’m just too sleepy.

  “He’s a good guy…that Josh. I always knew I needed to watch out for him.” A deep voice says, but this voice is different. This voice isn’t like the others. This is a voice I haven’t heard since—he died.

  Oh!

  “Daddy?” I screech, frantically trying to open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m in the dark with him. Oh God, I’m dead aren’t I?

  “Am I dead?” I ask.

  He is laughing now. “No, Tinker Bell, you aren’t dead. Just sleeping.”

  “How can I talk to you then when no one else can hear me?” I ask.

  “You wanted me here, I guess.” And like a light switch is flipped on, he is illuminated before my eyes. We are walking side by side along the banks of the lake. It’s the part of the day where the pink and oranges in the sky mingle beautifully.

  “How did we get here?” I ask him.

  He turns to look at me, “It’s your favorite place. It’s a happy spot,” he answers. “This is your dream, princess.”

  I look around at it, and I see Josh pushing me on the swing as my hair blows in the wind. We are smiling and laughing—content.

  “He loves you.” My dad states the obvious.

  “And I love him,” I say, turning my eyes away from happiness and to the source of the darkness that has enveloped me for so long.

  “I’ve made so many mistakes, Daddy. Why would you come to me now? Why did you leave in the first place? I’m scared.” I admit and feel the tears fall down my cheek.

  He reaches his hand up to touch me, and I freeze. It falls away. “I’m sorry, princess. You can’t stay in the past anymore. What happened between your mom and me...what I did—it’s not your fault. I want you to promise to let it go, to let yourself be happy. You deserve to be happy. Okay? Moments come and go, and so many slip by without us truly living them. Promise me that you will embrace the moments as they come…live in them and make mistakes. It’s okay to make them.”

  And then it’s dark again. No!

  I don’t know how long I sleep, or what else I dream about, but I know it is happy. It is dreams of time spent with Josh at our spot embracing sweet moments.

  “You will always be my Tinker bell. Always my princess.” My dad says next to me. I slowly lift my eyelids as he lifts his hand again to touch mine.

  This time, I’m not scared to let him touch me—I’m curious. I lift my hand and place it flatly against his palm in the air. It’s not cold, and it doesn’t go through me. He smiles as he interlaces his fingers with mine. I suddenly feel stronger—suddenly warm and safe.

  “Let him love you, okay, princess?” He whispers to me, slowly vanishing into thin air.

  He’s gone.

  CHAPTER 4

  I was wrong about the pleasant night’s sleep. It was anything but sweet. I’ve never given much thought to the meaning behind someone’s dreams or nightmares. That is, until this morning when I realized what mine had been about.

  I had finally fallen asleep well into the middle of the night. It’s only natural that I would dream about Riley, when my last thoughts were of her, but my dream was a result of my fear of losing her and had left me feeling restless.

  Riley called me crying. She said she was so sorry for everything bad that ever happened to me because of her. She promised to fix it for everyone. She told me she could never let the same mistakes happen to someone else, and because of that she was leaving me.

  I begged her to explain what she meant, but she didn’t. I could hear the rain falling, and the thunder from the storm brewing on top of us—she was outside. I could tell by her breathing that she was running.

  “Riley, tell me where you are, baby. I’m coming to meet you,” I pleaded.

  “I’m by the lake. You’re too late, Josh. I have to make this choice. I can’t let someone else die because of me,” she said between sobs.

  “No one died because of you, baby. Your dad killed my mom. Not you. We’ve been through this. Stop talking like that.” I groveled with her as I took off running towards the lake.

  You’re wrong, Josh. I needed to get you away. I had too. Because of me you are alone.”

  “I’m not alone, Riley. I have you.”

  “Had me Josh. You had me, and now you don’t anymore. I’m so sorry. I let this happen to you again.” She choked on her tears.

  “What are you talking about, baby? I do have you.”

  “No, you don’t,” she whispered into the phone, just as I caught up to her at the lake, except it wasn’t the lake anymore. We were back at the theater, no rain in the sky, just a still motion picture of the events from last night.

  I’m standing there, watching it. It’s weird.

  I’m watching the ‘me’ from last night yell at Riley to back away, but she doesn’t listen. And then Dean pushes her to the ground. She falls, and I run to catch her, but I don’t get there in time. My eyes are as wide as saucers when I see her hit the concrete with a thud.

  “Riley? Oh—fuck! What did you do?” I yell at Dean as I cradle her in my hands. She doesn’t open her eyes and blink rapidly like she did last night. She doesn’t talk to me like she did last night. She doesn’t move, or act confused like she did last night. She doesn’t do anything at all. She’s not waking up.

  She’s not waking up. I yelled it. “She’s not waking up!”

  “HELP! Someone help her!” I shouted to anyone around me, but the sky had gone black, and nothing e
xisted but me—and her—and this moment as I embraced her fragile body.

  I kissed her forehead, her cheeks and her lips. I blew my own breath of life into her, but it isn’t enough. I would give my own heart to her if it would make her’s beat with life again. My tears would drown her if she were still able to drown.

  “Please, wake up. Please. WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” I screamed it. She doesn’t

  I do.

  I wake with a jolt, drenched in sweat. It was just a dream. Riley is okay. She had hit her head, but she-is-okay. I repeat it multiple times until my trembling ceases and my heart rate slows.

  Clearly, I am afraid of losing Riley. Dreams don’t ever make sense so I can’t rationalize any of the things that happened in it, just that I had been fearful. I know that I was. I have been scared for Riley many times.

  When her dad died, and she drank his booze until she puked and felt like shit, and when she told me she was just like him for numbing her pain with alcohol, I had been scared for her then, she wasn’t like him.

  At the cemetery this past year, I had been worried about her, seeing the lifelessness in her eyes. At Brandt’s party, when she’d drowned her emotions at the expense of her liver—again—I had been scared for her—and thought that maybe she did tend to numb her pain with booze.

  At her house, that night when she thought I’d rejected her—her tears had ripped me into two halves. I had hurt for her then, too.

  At school when she’d passed out, and on the street when she’d almost run into the car—all more moments I had been scared for her.

  None of those moments came close to the fear I’d felt last night—the sound of her skull hitting the concrete—the blood that was on her hand, and the way she didn’t make sense when she spoke.

  That was fear.

  “I’m going to the hospital.” I told my dad as I walked past him heading out the door. I didn’t expect to see my worst enemy sitting on the hood of my truck, though.