by Adriana Law
It stares at me in the eyes with its hard cold eyes.
Its features are that of an eagle, beautiful, wild … free, but it’s just a statue. It will never feel the wind beneath its wings, it’s just wood. I instantly regret bringing that stupid bird home with me. Eagerly closing the steps between us, I sweep everything on top of my dresser, including the bird, onto the floor with one angry movement of my arm. I pick up a stack of books slinging them at the wall. Within seconds I feel the weight of my body collapse around my knee. I scream in protest as the pain causes a rippling effect throughout my entire body, letting it all pour out.
“Oh God, he’s really gone!”
I crumble to the floor and glance at the large tree outside of my window, peering in at the sight of my break down. When I was seven I looked at that tree as is it would never let me fall, I had faith in its crackling branches … I also had faith in sterling. Now all of this is a constant reminder, the tree, the statues, my stupid knee; I’ve been falling all along ... but who would catch such a foolish girl? I pull my legs out from under me, looking at the pink scar alongside of my knee. The anger from everything pulses through my veins; I begin slamming both palms onto the tender area! It hurts, but I have to get it away from me! With each forceful punch, I can’t help the cries escaping my lips.
“Why? Why did you take him from me? Are you trying to punish me? Don’t you know I need my father! Why do you keep taking people that I love away from me? Did I do something wrong?” I scream breathlessly between each punch and scratch. My skin rips and tears under my nails.
There is no answer.
I’m suddenly aware of the blood oozing from the self-inflected scratches. I’ve lost control of the simple act of being able to breathe. I’m hyperventilating.
“I don’t need you to show me how to breathe,” I say.
“You don’t?” He looks skeptical.
“I think I can handle the simple act of breathing without you.”
“But are you breathing properly?”
“I don’t know. I breathe the same as everyone else.”
I can hear the tree outside mocking me, “you’re pathetic, look at you. You don’t deserve to be in my branches”
“Ahhhh…”I grab the wooden bird lying on the ground next to me and hurl it at the tree with the all the anger that is still left in me. The glass window shatters.
Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes I inhale and exhale, taking in slow deep breaths, lying over on the cold floor. I pray:
“I want understanding.
I want forgiveness.
I want peace.
I want a love that will never forsake me.
I want the light.
I have been searching in all the wrong places, Lord. All this time I believed if my mother would just accept me … I’d have those things. If I found the right guy … he’d give me those things. I put my faith in all the wrong things, Lord. I want a love strong enough to see me through anything. I don’t know what to do anymore. I surrender it all to you! Please lift this burden from heart! Take it! It’s yours! I don’t want to be angry anymore. Help me understand. Show me the way.”
“Victoria! Victoria, Honey?” My mother rushes through the door to find me lying on my side. I can imagine the look of horror on her face. I feel her arms under my sides as she lifts me into her lap. “Oh my God, what have you done?” she says rubbing my leg with her fingers. I can hear her heart pounding in her chest.
My voice trembles like my body, but not with heartbreak or sorrow but with the revelation that I’m one of the lucky ones to finally understand it. I tried to fix everything. Sterling is in the midst of a trial meant to bring him closer to the truth. I’m prohibiting that. I realize that God didn’t take my father from me, it was just his time.
I know now, more than anything, I am not alone. I’ll never be alone.
“I’m sorry momma, for everything” Tears escape my eyes, running down over my cheeks, the taste of salt on my lips. My mother rocks me back and forth. She’s quiet, too quiet. I angle my head prepared to see a look of disappointment; I have beaten myself up and broken her window, I half expect her to put me in a nut house. I would.
My mother looks down to me with eyes filled with love. I scramble from her lap and latch my arms around her neck, tears pouring from both our eye, we’re crying.
A month later…
Jonah’s house is the last place I thought I’d ever feel comfortable. His mother is wonderful. I think mostly I come here to see her. Charlotte is easy to talk to. She listens. Her influence over Keria has been remarkable.
It’s been a month since my world detonated like a bomb. I’m no longer angry.
“How’s your mother,” Charlotte asks me as soon as I come in. I slide out of my jacket laying it over the back of the couch. The house smells like burnt food. I hear a shuffle beyond the kitchen door and I smile, picturing Jonah in his stylish potholder mittens in the midst of a full-blown panic. The kitchen door swings open and Jonah walks into the living room, Keria on his heels giving him hell.
“She’s staying busy,” I tell Charlotte. “She cleaned out the building out back and has a carpenter coming by to build in shelves.”
“For what?” Keria asks.
“For my carvings. We’re painting the walls this weekend. I officially have my own work studio.” I plop down on the couch my gaze connecting with Jonah’s. “Did you burn all the food? I’m starving.”
Keria is waving her hands and nodding behind him. Jonah throws a look over his shoulder and Keria pretends to be doing nothing but listening.
“Hey,” Jonah pouts. “No evil cracks on my cooking.”
“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas,” I tell him.
Keria snorts, “What … a cook book?”
“No,” I laugh out. “Cooking lessons.”
“Oh yeah!” Keria wiggles excited finger in my direction. “And I can get him his very own chef hat and an apron with Stevens on it.”
“I see how it is.” Jonah moves to behind her, sliding his arms around her torso, his chin resting in the curve of her shoulder. “Go ahead. Make your jokes. See I ever cook another damn—”
“Jonah Elijah Stevens!” Charlotte breaks in, narrowing her eyes at him.
Keria and I crack up, laughing until our side hurt.
Knock, knock!
All of our heads turn toward the front door. The knock is persistent.
Keria goes and peeks out through a curtain. “It’s Sterling,” she says, turning to me.
Two words I’m not so sure I wanted to hear.
“I’ll get rid of him,” Jonah says opening the front door and stepping onto the porch. He pulls the door to, leaving panicking with what to do. They’re out there for a good ten minutes. We can hear Sterling shaking voice, the urgency in his tone.
“Call the police,” I finally tell Keria.
“Are you sure? It really seems like he just wants to talk to you,” she says, studying my reaction. “Can’t you at least here what he has to say? Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Keria, you’re the one that told me he’s not a nice guy. You compared him to Colton. Don’t you remember?”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“No, Keria. You weren’t. Sterling has got it in his head that he can change. You and I both know that’s not going to happen. Guy’s like him don’t change.”
“But what if he’s telling the truth? What if he means what he’s saying? I really think he does care about you and I know you love him. Don’t try to deny it. Not all guys are like Colton.”
“He doesn’t even know what he’s saying,” I rationalize. “A month from now he’d hate me. I’d put all kinds of expectations on him and you know it. I’d destroy us.”
“Tori, you have it all wrong. You never tried to control Colton. If anything you let him walk all over you. You’re the most patient understanding person I’ve ever met. I can’t see you destroying anything.”
“You’re afraid,” she says. “You’re afraid to be with him … that’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re terrified he’ll leave you and it will destroy you … not him. That’s what this is about, Tori. Even you’re not that selfless. Pushing him away isn’t for him, it’s for you.”
“Listen to me and call the police,” I repeat, but even I hear the doubt in my voice. “A night or two in jail and he’ll give up.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“He will. His father won’t like having to come bail him out. He’ll convince his son to give up.” Even if he has to use his fist to do it.
“Just go talk to him,” Keria groans.
I see that this is not going anywhere. I have Sterling on one side of the door refusing to leave and Keria refusing to let me hide. With a huff I give in.
“Tori doesn’t want to see you,” Jonah asserts, guarding the door like his life depends on it. “Can you not get that? You need to stop calling her constantly. It’s getting old.”
“I’m not leaving until I talk to her.” Sterling’s voice causes that all too familiar fluttering in my stomach. “Please. Get her to come outside.”
“Man, it’s her decision … not mine. Respect her wishes and just go before you cause a scene.”
“Thanks, Jonah,” I say, laying a hand on his shoulder. Our gazes meet. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
“Okay.” He glares at Sterling. “I’ll be inside if you need me.”
I slip out the door pulling it until the latch clicks behind me. “Hey,” comes out small.
Sterling is standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the porch. I don’t make a move. I don’t take off running to him slinging my arms around his shoulders. There’s a painful tightening in my chest. My heart beat stops momentarily at the sight of him. But I won’t give in to it. Not after everything that has happened.
Time seems to stop waiting on one of us to say something.
He looks like he’s lost weight since the last time I saw him. There are dark circles under his eyes. His clothes are rumbled like his hair. He is quiet, piercing me with sad gray eyes. “You look beautiful,” he eventually says.
My gaze drops to what he is holding in his hands.
“Oh, here, I brought you these,” he says.
I stare down, at what he hands me, that tightening in my chest getting worse. “You brought me one of your shirts and a pair of boxers?”
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. His dimples melt my heart. “I miss you wearing them. At least this way I can imagine that you wear them every night like before.”
It gets quiet. Awkward.
He climbs the steps coming to stand near me. He rubs his forehead, his eyes closed.
“Sterling, you’re going to have to stop calling me and showing up where I’m at.”
“Guess what?” he says, his eyes brightening. “I wrote you a song, well, I wrote a melody I’m still working on the words.”
I don’t think he is getting it. He’s refuses to hear what I’m saying. I hold his gaze, determined to get through to him. “Did you hear what I just said?”
He goes on, “I’ve had a lot of free time so I’ve been painting and playing more … doing whatever I have to do to keep my mind off you.”
“Sterling, it’s over. You need to go home,” I announce, feeling as if the floor is giving out beneath me. “You need to give up.”
“I still haven’t used since you left. I don’t want any other girl. I want you. I want you wearing my boxers. I want you in my bed.” He reaches but hesitates. He closes the distance between us.
“Don’t—” I warn.
“You saved me, Phoenix” He lifts his wrist, showing me the scars we’ve never discussed. “Before you I had nothing to live for. I planned on doing it, for real, after we came back from my uncle’s funeral. No more chickening out and not following through.” His gaze lifts to mine. “But then I ran into you out in the hallway that day and you lit my darkness. You took care of me. You made me feel like I mattered to someone. After I met you I didn’t think about dying anymore. All I could think about was living. I want to marry you and have children with you one day.”
My thoughts spin. I want to grab him, tell him it’s okay. Lie. Tell him he’ll never use again or want another girl in his bed. Tell him I can make him happy and be all he ever needs.
Sterling reaches out; lacing his fingers in mine, the instant surge of electricity is breath taking.
“This” he gestures with his hands, “This, was right. I just wasn’t and I know I’m far from it. Phoenix, I know you felt it to, that we were … right. I just wish I could be what you need.”
His grip on my hand loosens, and then he’s pulling away. I can still feel the pressure of his fingers next to mine, my hands now empty, so is my heart.
Sterling drops his head in his palms, letting out an exasperated breath.
“But I can’t …” is spoken into his palms, muffled, distant. His unexpected words suck the air out of my lungs. It all shifts and changes and I know … I know Sterling didn’t come here tonight to beg me to give him another chance. He came here to let me go.
I’m good at losing. I can handle losing him.
“You are a kind-hearted person,” he says now. “We met each other at such bad points in our lives. I wish we could start over. I wish I could go back in time … not just with you … with a lot of things. I want what you want and I want it with you but I need help. Please don’t completely delete me from your heart. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. I had a revelation the other night and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for everything. I wanted to tell you that it finally hit me that I really do have a problem. I really need to learn how to love and respect someone. I really hope you can forgive me in your heart for what I did. You didn’t deserve any of it!”
“I’m going to start charging you a penny for every minute you’re on my mind and one day I’ll buy you a million dollar mansion.” He lifts my hand once more, his gray eyes locked with mine as his lips graze each one of my knuckles. “Goodbye Phoenix.”
My chest rises and falls quickly watching him go, adrenaline pumping throughout my entire body. I get the feeling this will be the last time I’ll ever see Sterling Bentley. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’d do anything to have him look at me just once before he walks out of my life. Just once and I’ll know this spark I’m feeling is not in my head and he feels it too.
He never once looks back.
Sterling Bentley taught me how to love what is ugly. He taught me to embraces the unknown instead of fearing it. I realized the love I was looking for all along wasn’t to be found in other people but inside me the entire time. A love that deaths, disappointment, regret, space or time cannot take from me.
Epilogue
A year and a half later …
“How does it feel to be the proud owner of your very own store?” Keria asks me from the chair next to mine. We’re all helping Charlotte sign guest in for tonight’s meeting. Jonah is out front, helping park cars. And Keria and I are in the lobby taking names and passing along pamphlets with valuable information for family members of addicts. I flip through the stapled papers, scanning for the name of the next person in line. Members, family, friends … everybody gets a name tag and their name marked through on the list.
There is a sign hanging on the front of our desks that reads, Sign in here for family night.
“It feels great,” I admit, smiling up as I hand the guy a tag with his name on it. He peels the sticky paper off the back of the tag and slaps it onto his shirt, over his heart.
“You look like such a professional,” she states. “With your hair all curled and pulled up with the right little pieces hanging down, look at you.”
“Okay,” I la
ugh out. I’d bought this outfit especially for the grand opening: a black knee length skirt, a red silk tank top and flats since I knew I’d be on my feet all day. It felt good to be received as someone serious and talented by all the people who’d came into the shop today. As I was locking up at end of the day I couldn’t resist smiling non-stop.
I’m serious. You look amazing and I am so proud of you,” Keria tells me in-between filling out stickers. “Before long you’ll be making enough money to take me to some fancy shmancy restaurant.”
“I don’t know about all that.”
The meetings can sometimes get intense; confusion coming from both sides—tonight is about bridging the gap.
Guilt resurfaces like it always does when I help Charlotte. I’ll always wonder if I made the right choice.
“Uh oh. There’s that look again,” Keria says. “You know … it’s been over a year. You’re going to have to stop beating yourself up over this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
Earlier today Keria and Jonah helped me with the grand opening of Victoria’s Woodcarvings. I know the name isn’t too original, but I decided I wanted to keep it simple. I think secretly, somewhere deep inside, I’m hoping he will come back to Colorado Springs one day and see the sign lit in the window and he’ll remember.
“Yeah. Whatever. You’re forgetting you’re my best friend and I can read your mind.” She shakes her head, writing on one of the stickers, handing it up with a smile. “You simply will not give up on that guy. Charlotte mentioned this guy …. ”
“No. I’m not going out on anymore lame dates. Whoever he is … find someone else to pawn him off on.”
Her pen stills and her head turns in my direction. My gaze narrows on her. Why does she look like she is about to burst into laughter. “Hey. You need a date for my wedding; otherwise I’ll just feel guilty all night.”
Did I mention Jonah and Keria are getting married in two days? “I think I’ll be fine,” I tell her sternly.
She sighs, deflating a little. “Are you sure? Don’t you ever want to feel butterflies again?”