Everlasting Light

by Shey Stahl

  If I hadn’t been so drunk, I probably would have laughed.

  Instead I sat there and drooled on myself.

  Although when Grandma Edith’s dress blew up to reveal her garter belt, I did laugh.

  Beau eventually took a seat at the table, hands clasped with his elbows on his knees, head hung. It was as if he was trying to decide on something, only what I wasn’t sure.

  I hadn’t actually moved from the table Blaine sat me at after the wedding. I wasn’t sure I could. It seemed like a lot of work, and I was sure I would fall face first if I tried to move.

  Who gets drunk on their best friend’s wedding day?

  Me. I did that shit.

  Poor Blaine.

  God, I’m a horrible person.

  “Here.” She handed me a cup of coffee. “Drink this and don’t move.”

  She was about ten feet away when I yelled after her, “What if I have to pee?”

  Blaine shot me a glare, picking up her dress. “Piss on yourself!”

  She wasn’t serious. We’d get through this. She loved me. I knew we would. I still felt like an asshole, though.

  When Beau heard my voice, his head whipped around, but he didn’t get up. Instead, he focused on his mother and aunt seated next to him.

  The night had settled into an easy pace now. Country music came from a DJ to my right, friends and family all celebrating the joining of two great people. Part of me was incredibly thankful Beau wasn’t singing. Had I heard him now, I wasn’t sure how I would react.

  After Gavin and Blaine’s first dance, everyone made their way to the dance floor.

  Beau was walking to me now, a slow stride set by his indecisiveness that held me steady.

  Shit, this is it. He’s gonna wanna talk and you’re going to have to explain yourself.

  He was nervous, I knew that much. I could hear my heart in my ears when he approached me, his suit jacket had been removed, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

  I panicked and stood, suddenly, as if I had somewhere to be.

  My only problem was when I stood, I sent the coffee in my hand flying and all over a lady in a cream dress.

  Fuck!

  Not knowing what else to do, I turned, quickly, as if nothing happened and sat back down, red faced and sweating.

  “There’s the clumsy pretty girl I fell in love with,” Beau whispered, his lips dangerously close to my neck.

  I jolted back, head-butted him and then gasped, inhaling spit.

  Why can’t I be normal around him?

  Rubbing my head, I don’t know why I thought I could ever be normal around him. He was Beau Ryland. I just couldn’t.

  “Dance with me,” he said quietly, his hands on the edge, leaning forward but not looking at me; he was looking at his hands. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, giving me a peek at his skin beneath the cotton.

  Focusing on the words, the statement, it certainly wasn’t a question. It was demand, one I wasn’t sure I could ignore.

  “No. I can’t. My armpits itch. And I’ve had too much to drink, clearly. I might trip.”

  He smiled, remembering the night we met and I tripped, and glanced over at his parents on the dance floor before looking back at me.

  “Dance with me,” he whispered under the wind, his voice resilient, biting so much back.

  When I didn’t reply, his voice came stronger.

  “I’m not asking you, Bentley. Get up and dance with me. You’ve ignored me for months, don’t you think it’s the least you could do.”

  Wrong choice of words bucko.

  “The least I could do?” I snorted. “Why do you want to dance with me?” I could tell when his hands gripped the edge of the table a little tighter and his knuckles turned white, he hated that I would even hesitate. His disappointed eyes told me so. Mine moved from his, quickly avoiding him.

  “I want you to dance with me because I have some things to say to you,” he gripped the table tighter and hit his fist against it lightly, enough to shake the wine glasses. “And I don’t want us separated by a fucking table. Get up.”

  My heart started pounding because I was speaking a truth neither of us wanted to hear.

  He surprised me when his voice came a little louder, determined even. “Bentley, I called you, I called you over and over again, only to have you not answer. I won’t sit here and tell you it was easy to leave. It wasn’t. I know I left but you told me to. I also sent you tickets to my concert, and you didn’t show. So please, I’m practically fucking begging here, please dance with me.”

  I stared up at him, giving in. “What if I trip?”

  “Then I’ll catch you.” As he winked, I looked down at his extended hand, and then his face, and there it was, the fragile hope in his eyes and the nervous set of his mouth that I would deny him.

  I couldn’t say no.

  I kept wondering if his being away from me had any effect on him at all. Now I certainly had my answer. His bloodshot, swollen eyes told me he had at least been thinking about me lately.

  “Okay,” I finally said, placing my hand in his, our fingers curled around each other, fitting together perfectly. It reminded me of the first time I took his hand at the lake, and the day we buried Dixie.

  The reminder of her sent a shot straight to my heart, knowing she tied the two of us together.

  As we swayed, I caught sight of Jensen, drinking with his father, both of them wearing the same vacant stare. “What happened between you and your brother?”

  “Same shit as always.” Beau’s brow pinched together. “He’s an asshole and always will be.”

  “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t needed, but I felt like I should say it.

  I’m sorry for so much more.

  “Why didn’t you come to the concert?” he asked, his mouth at my ear as he pulled me to his chest.

  “I couldn’t hear you sing.” I looked at my hands instead of his face, because it was too much, too invasive, as I tried desperately to shut down and not care about anything he was about to say to me. “Not with the memories your voice holds for me.”

  Your voice is everything I hear. It haunts me at night.

  His head tilted slightly, a wince to his features as his hand squeezed mine.

  “Can you ever again?” Beau asked, his tone still low, a reminder of what it felt like to have him whisper words to me.

  “I don’t know, Beau.”

  How can I hear you sing when I can’t let you go, and you don’t need me. Clearly. Look at me. I’m the girl that loses her daughter, breaks the love of her life’s heart, and then takes a giant crap on her best friend’s wedding. Great life plan. Great.

  “I miss you,” he finally said, our bodies swaying slightly to the music, but not enough that we were actually dancing.

  “Beau…” He silenced me with one look, knowing I was going to tell him I didn’t want to talk about us right now.

  Now seemed like the worst time to talk about us. There I was in my lilac dress, barefoot, splotchy, and tear-stained because I still couldn’t get my shit together and he wanted to talk about us.

  I write to our dead daughter and dream of you every single night.

  I hate you in some ways, because you haunt my memory of the happy ever after I was denied.

  I felt as if the air was still, my focus entirely on him.

  Fuck, did I say that out-loud?

  “I miss you, Bentley,” he said, again, voice breaking as he opened himself up and waited for me to give him something, an indication I still cared for him.

  “I miss you, too,” I whispered, feeling the tears welling up. Any moment they were going to let loose in front of everyone.

  For a moment his arms tightened around my waist, and we were both silent, but I could tell by the tension in his body he was working himself up to say something, finally.

  He pulled back, his eyes watchful. “Will there ever be a chance for us again?” he begged desperately, hopeful that I was going to give him th
e answer he wanted.

  “I don’t know,” I said, barely a whisper. The truth was, I didn’t know. I wanted there to be, but I couldn’t give him an answer right now. I wasn’t at that place yet. “I want there to be, someday.”

  Nodding, he blew out a huge breath, like he was completely ridding his body of oxygen. “I still love you.” He mumbled the words, like he couldn’t give them anymore sound than he had. “I’ve never stopped.”

  My mouth went dry looking at him. He was taking large even breaths now, warming himself up for me letting him down, again, or maybe settling his nerves.

  “I uh...” I couldn’t say it.

  Fuck Bentley, tell him! He’s right here, it’s your chance to give him something! You love him and he needs to hear it.

  Beau frowned, looking frustrated. I could tell he was struggling to express himself this way. He dropped his head forward, like he was giving up.

  “I’m sorry, Beau I just…”

  His eyes lifted to meet mine and the agony in his face knocked me sideways. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I nodded, my voice hitched when I said, again, “I’m sorry.”

  He tipped his head to the side, like even breathing was painful for him. “I’ll uh…” The way his voice trailed off had my heart in my throat again and my skin prickling. And then he said, “I’ll see you around.”

  My heart jumped when he let go of me, my eyes swollen, filled with that sadness I knew too well and had let control me for too long.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to stay strong and not burst into tears. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

  As he started to walk away, his hand on the back of his neck, he turned slightly to look back at me and I looked away. I couldn’t deal with the vulnerable side of him; it made me feel vulnerable, too.

  He didn’t leave, as if he couldn’t. Something was holding him here, a force he couldn’t ignore. “I know you love me, Bentley, even if you can’t say it. I’ll never be sorry for the time I was granted with you…and her.” He reached out and cupped my face as he inhaled loudly, my breath in my lungs exhaling just as harshly. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. It never will.”

  I took in a ragged breath, though it gave me nothing in return. What he was saying and the way he was saying it held such honestly I had no choice but to believe him.

  He turned his back on me, and it wasn’t out of hate or regret. It was him giving me space. He was leaving me with those words, as if he had to say them now, or else he never would.

  A familiar ache stirred in my chest and weaved around my throat. I started to panic thinking I was going to have an attack right there.

  My eyes closed, and I felt my chest heave as the tears slipped down my face, wanting to tell him how much I loved him. Drawing in a deep breath, I couldn’t pry my eyes from his departure.

  He made his way over to Blaine, danced with her and then left with Miles.

  When he was gone, I took a seat at the table, watching Blaine dance with Gavin.

  Still not thinking clearly, I approached the two of them, wanting to apologize to both.

  Wrapping my arms around Blaine’s middle section, I pulled her against my chest. Immediately, she turned and hugged me despite my shitty behavior tonight.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her neck, starting to cry again.

  Blaine untangled her arms to place her palms on my cheeks just as she had done the night I went out with her to the bar, and had my breakdown then. “You will always be my best girl, Bentley,” she said, tear-soaked, same as me. We were definitely having a moment. “I mean it though, when you marry my brother, I’m driving a truck through your wedding.”

  I found it funny she thought I’d marry Beau, but not surprising.

  Part of me thought, maybe, there would be time for us later.

  “What did she say?” Blaine wrapped her arms around my waist as we said goodbye.

  “She still can’t, but I think she’s close.”

  Blaine feared I’d give up on Bentley only neither of us could. “Don’t…I mean…are you done?”

  “I didn’t come here thinking she’d even talk to me, so I guess maybe we made some progress.”

  “I’m sorry, Beau,” Blaine looked completely dejected, thinking her plan failed. “Tonight turned into a disaster. I had no idea she was going to get a hold of that fireball.”

  “I thought she was pretty funny. Grandma did too.” I chuckled running my hand through my hair. “You have to remember how nervous she would have been knowing I was going to be here.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re married now. Dad stayed sober enough to walk you down the aisle, so it wasn’t a complete disaster.”

  “You’re right.” She smiled at Gavin with Miles in a headlock. “It still seems crazy to think I married him and I didn’t even like him at first.”

  “I’m just glad you didn’t marry Miles.” I teased, winking at her as I placed my arm around her shoulder and held her to my side, willing myself not to look in Bentley’s direction. “Then I would have objected to the wedding. I’m happy you two found each other.” Pressing my lips to her forehead, I whispered. “Thank you for trying. Enjoy that honeymoon.” Letting go of her, I winked about the time she started laughing.

  “Will you be home for Christmas?”

  “Just for a day,” I took a step away from her, nodding to the driveway as if to say I was leaving now, “and then I’m heading out on tour again. I think I finish at the end of January.”

  Blaine adjusted her dress, fidgeting with the ruffles. I knew what she was going to ask. “Have you played ‘Everlasting Light’ yet?”

  “Nope.” I took a step back toward her, not wanting our conversation heard by anyone else. “And I’m catching a lot of shit for it too.”

  “Are you really not going to play it until she hears it?”

  Shrugging, I backed up a step. “She needs to hear it live, first.”

  I wasn’t sure it was going to work that way, but it was still my plan.

  “Is she uh…” My eyes deceived me and snapped to Bentley as she sat a nearby table sipping water. That girl, the one barely able to make eye contact with anyone could never be anything but mine. I knew it for sure. “Has she wrote anymore letters?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.”

  After saying goodbye to my mom, I met Miles at my truck where he was leaning against the door. “Well? I saw you dancing with her,” he opened the door when I unlocked it. “What did she say?”

  I waited until we were inside the truck before I answered him. “Wouldn’t say much. Just that she couldn’t listen to the song, or me for that matter.”

  “Man,” Miles groaned, a slow shake to his head as he smoothed out his slacks. “How long are you gonna wait for that girl?”

  “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” I started the truck and began to pull out of the driveway.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” he mumbled. “Seems like a lot of fuckin’ work for pussy.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  The truth was, I didn’t know why I held on either, just that I couldn’t let go of her. Something tied me to her and it was stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. It had me holding on even when I thought I should let go. I met a girl and everything changed. Everything.

  Miles was passed out before we hit Mountain Brook, snoring away, so I stopped by Dixie’s grave and placed some flowers on her gravestone for her.

  Please baby girl, if you can hear me, help me find a way to convince your mama she needs me.

  When I began writing letters to Dixie, I never realized how much writing to her would have helped me.

  I would never forget Beau or anything we had been through, or what Dixie had taught me in just minutes. What I would let go of was the grief I tied to him, the hurt, the frustration to blame myself for what happened to Dixie.

  Through those letters to her with silly drawings and countless acts
of love, was a love for her and Beau that I poured my soul into.

  Writing helped me.

  I couldn’t say it healed me, but it certainly helped.

  For a while, my soul had been crushed beyond repair. But with writing to Dixie, a tiny flicker of hope arose within me. Hope that I hadn’t lost everything and I could go on and accept that, yes, I did feel guilty for losing her, but I couldn’t let it control my entire life.

  I knew I wasn’t healed completely, but looking back on the months from where I began, I knew now I could at least survive.

  For me, I had decided those memories with Beau, that weekend with him, and then the ones of Dixie, wouldn’t consume me forever.

  Would they always be a part of me? Yes, but for myself, in order to heal, I wrote them down, carried them around with me for months, reliving every detail as if they held answers I wasn’t sure I even needed anymore.

  Relief came after Blaine’s wedding, when I realized maybe I didn’t need the answers; just remembering and purging those memories to paper was enough for me.

  “I know you love me, Bentley, even if you can’t say it. I’ll never be sorry for the time I was granted with you…and her.”

  I realized what it was that little precious angel gave to me, and what she was trying to bring me back to. Beau. Had she somehow had an influence in that?

  I believed she did.

  Now I was more aware of that than ever, but I felt something else entirely, something she didn’t give me, but showed me. I was still her mother. She taught me parts of this world no one had ever shown me before, including heartache.

  But I taught myself how to live with that heartache and give it an outlet.

  Older, not necessarily wiser, I did learn from what I wrote. I was one step closer to being me and seeing what I needed to see.

  All of what I wrote to her was true. They were my thoughts, memories, doubts, confessions, demands for answers, and my summer with Beau before winter took it away.

  Believe me when I say that writing it, I felt everything real was slipping away. Hello, I thought they were being delivered to Heaven, when in reality, they probably weren’t.

  In truth, if I hadn’t wrote to Dixie, I feared I would carry that heartache forever, but I was ready to let go now.