Pieces of Paisley

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  He wasn’t being cruel or untruthful. We have been through the whole turbulent relationships of past history. I don’t want to try, and I don’t’ want to be alone for the rest of my life. I adore Wayne, but he isn’t the one. Just like I am not the one for him; his was his college sweetheart, Angela. I have seen pictures of her, she is beautiful, but when you hear the stories of her you know her beauty radiated from the inside. They met freshman orientation and were inseparable from day one. She followed him to medical school. They were going to work side by side. During residency she was hit and killed by a drunk driver, and he has never gotten over it, and has no desire to. I can’t imagine how he feels, even though my relationship died, Jake is still breathing. If something were to happen to him, I don’t know that I could face it. I can’t have him, but knowing he is able to live his life is enough for me.

  I get along with Wayne’s parents; they are very loving and pushing us forward in our relationship. It used to be gentle nudges, now it is full out inquisition whenever we are together. I mean, after five months you think they would not be at that point yet, but after the fifth date his mom was picking out our china pattern. He isn’t in a rush for marriage he says, but I know once I move in that will be the next step, and love or not, when I get married it will be forever. I am about to celebrate my twenty-fourth birthday, and I know I need to make a decision, or let him go.

  For my birthday he spoils me with exactly what I want: a Coach bag, filled with Starbucks gift cards and a beautiful charm bracelet with four charms on it. I don’t know what the charms symbolize, and I ask him. “The sun is for the extra days you have added to my life and yours. The moon is for all the nights we will have together, the stars are for what I see every time you wrap your lips around my cock, and the blank one is for our future.” See, he may not give me love and false hope, but he is a very passionate and giving man. He knows he is wearing me down.

  Four months after my birthday I agree to move in with him, but something keeps coming up. My lease isn’t up, and I refuse to allow him to buy me out of it, he had a slab leak so the house in under total renovation, and we just keep putting it off, but with the promise of it happening his mom has now moved to marriage. She has wrapped Lily right in her scheme and so now I have my own mother breathing down my neck. She doesn’t see the light isn’t in my eyes like it was with Jake, she doesn’t question why she has never heard Wayne and I profess our love, but she does ask over and over when the wedding is.

  I haven’t heard from Krista in a few months, and need to tell her the good news. She won’t be thrilled I am relenting and not holding out for love like she thinks I should, but she will support me from afar. My emails keep going unanswered, and I wonder if I have upset her and don’t know. It isn’t like her to ignore me, and above all she knows it is my life. Wayne tells me not to worry too much about it, that she is busy with wifely duties and working, or they have decided to go totally green and live off the land. I roll my eyes at him, but wouldn’t put it past her.

  I awake, not to my alarm but to my ringing cell phone. It is four o’clock in the morning and besides an emergency nobody should be calling me. I was up until the wee hours engrossed in the news and the tragedy of the international flight that went down above the ocean last night. I felt bad for those families, and prayed for their healing. I couldn’t imagine waiting hours on end to find out if your loved ones where okay, but they knew pretty early that there were no survivors. It was a bit eerie because the flight was out of Missouri, which is where Jake and I flew into, and for the first time in a long time, I cried myself to sleep. Partly out of grief for what might have been and partly out of anger for not having the courage to call him. I just need him to tell me to move on, that he has, and that he is happy.

  “Hello,” I mumble in my cell phone. I am not fully awake but the next words rock me to the core. I am instantly numb and full of pain at the same time. My mouth is watering and is about to expel the bile rising up. I can’t say anything; I just sit there and listen. Dead. Gone. It happened fast. No suffering. The words keep replaying in my mind and not making sense. I should be comforting the person at the other end of the line, but all I can do is wallow in my own misery and pain. I manage to write down service information and assure the person I will be there, no matter what. Once I hang up, I let lose. I cry, I dry-heave, I can’t breathe, and the world feels like it is closing in on me. I never got to say good-bye.

  Chapter 33

  Paisley

  When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.

  Maurice Maeterlinck

  I don’t know how I made it through the last few days, and I have no idea how I am standing here at the funeral home. I have to go in, say good-bye, but I can’t move. Wayne prods me forward and whispers, “I got you. It will be okay.” But it won’t. It will never be the same again. Somehow I put one foot in front of the other, and make my way up the stairs, the whole time my legs feeling like lead. I stop again when I reach the doors. I refuse to go in, I can’t say good-bye and I reason with myself if I don’t then it won’t be true. I want to remember the good times, the happy times, not the last years of our lives.

  The decision is taken away from me as the door opens and I am enveloped in arms followed by weeping, and I am about crumble. If it wasn’t for Wayne’s steadying grip I would be on the floor and I wouldn’t be able to get up. I force myself to pull out of the embrace and face this head on. “Paisley, it has been too long. I am so sorry it is like this.” I don’t give her words, but I meet her gaze. The pain, anger, and regret meeting me is not lost on me. She feels guilty for all the years she let slip by. I am feeling the same guilt. I quietly slip out of her embrace and step away from Wayne, “I need to do this alone.” I inform both of them. For every step I take towards the viewing room, I stop. I try and control my breathing, I try not to flee and as I step up to the casket, I can’t stop the emotions that overcome me.

  Tears coursing down my cheeks, my vision is blurry but what I see isn’t right. This person staring back at me is not the same person I loved. I stop breathing to gain some control and blink to clear my vision. I want to run, I want this to all be a nightmare, but it isn’t. The devastation is all around me, surrounding me and seeping into my soul. “How did this happen?” I ask. I get no response and am thankful for the emptiness in the room, because that is how I feel. Completely empty. “I am so sorry.”

  Her beautiful auburn hair is not shaved close to her head and her once beautiful face is swollen, both effects from the chemotherapy and radiation she underwent to try and save her life. Her mom explained it to me, a brain tumor. By the time they found it, it was really too late. She tried treatments, but everything failed and at the end of the first round, she was so out of her mind she had to have constant supervision. She didn’t want me to know, she wanted me to remember her as we were. Young, carefree, the world at our fingertips. Krista, why wouldn’t you let me say good-bye? I don’t want to be angry with her, but that is one emotion I have. I am angry with God, at myself, at her and all the wasted years. I know logically we had made amends, but things were never the same. Right now, I hate God. He took a vibrant, beautiful woman at the prime of her life. She was only twenty-five and now she is gone. I want to scream, I want to punch something and above all I have to get out of here. I can’t take it, seeing her lying there, not able to snort at me in laughter, not able to tell me to get over myself, to live a little.

  I rush out of the room and fall into Wayne’s arms. I know this is bringing up terrible memories for him, but I am selfish enough right now to take his comfort. His arms may not be the ones I want around me, but they are all I have. I cannot stick around and watch all the grieving and people acting like this is a fucking class reunion. Not one of them knew the real Krista. The one who grieved for her babies for endless years, the one who was so damn forgiving and accepted her parents back in her life and heart after all the abuse sh
e suffered at their hands, the one who could cut you with her words, but soothe you with her spirit. None of them knew her like I did. I stare at her husband, he is broken. I want to go offer him some words, but I am a coward. I can’t tell him it will be all right because it won’t. When you lose the love of your life, by death or by choice, you know nothing will ever be all right again. You put one foot in front of the other and survive. That is all you can do. I can hear Krista telling me, “Paisley that isn’t living.” Well you know what, screw you because you aren’t here to help me live. You left me.

  “I have to get out of here,” I plead with Wayne. He understands and makes our excuses to her family. Her mom comes up to me and even though I hated this woman with everything I once was, in Krista’s time of need she was there. I can feel her pain and I know she loved her.

  Her mom reaches for me once again, “She loved you,” I can barely hear her through her tears.

  “I know,” is all I can get out. I turn and Wayne is carrying a box in his arms and I walk ahead of him to the car, I am practically sprinting to get away. I barely make it to the side of my car before I collapse. My entire body is shaking from the force of the sobs pouring out of me. He helps me in the car and then gets in and starts to drive off.

  “I have a box for you, Paisley. It is from Krista, her husband gave it to me. He said she didn’t want you to see her at the end, didn’t want to bring any more pain to your life, but she worked on something for you the last few weeks. I don’t want you to have it now because she said you should be alone when you open it.”

  “Give it to me,” I have to have it. It is the only piece I have of her. I need to know why at the end, when it mattered the most, she shut me out. He isn’t giving it to me and I am becoming hysterical.

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he tells me. I know he is looking out for my best interest, but I am tired of people doing that. I am going to break, I am going to fall on my face, but I have to be the one to make this decision.

  “I don’t care what you think, or anyone else. Give me the fucking box.” He relents and gives it to me. On the top is a taped piece of paper that says,

  “Don’t open this unless you are at the park and alone.”

  “Take me to my car,” I tell him. He shakes his head and I am shaking in fury. I need this, I need to see what was so important to her and nobody is going to take that away from me. “Wayne, take me to my car, now!” I seethe at him. No more words are spoken and he pulls up to my car at my apartment.

  “Please call me, check in. I will worry about you, and please be careful.” I know this is going against what he feels is right, but he is giving me what I need.

  “I will. Don’t worry, but this is something that I have to do.”

  “You don’t have to do it today.”

  “I do.” I kiss his cheek and hold the box to my chest as I unlock my car and get in. I know what park she is talking about, the one by my parents, it is where we used to go to get high, or escape reality, even for just a little while. Flying high on the swings made us feel invincible. Now she is taking me back there to show me how real life can be and make me face her demise. I drive on autopilot and park. I grab the box and rip it open. Inside are several packages, all labeled with numbers. I find the one marked “1” and rip it open. Out comes a letter and something in plastic.

  “Light this, remember, don’t be afraid of the pain, and start saying good-bye. Don’t shut down, Pais. Let it out, swing on the swings, yell out your pain, your fears, and get high. Remember the times we made mud-pies, at sixteen. Remember this is where we told our secrets, gossiped and gave a part of ourselves to each other that there is not getting back. Be angry at me, be angry at the world, but feel it.”

  I follow her directions; I search through my car for a lighter and find one. I would rather have a cigarette, but I finally gave those up. The night I got the call that cancer took my friend out of my life, I let the cigarettes out of mine, willingly. I sit in my car for a few minutes and toke on the joint. I shouldn’t be doing this at almost twenty-five, but if getting some of my friendship back through doing this, then I am doing it proudly. Once the euphoric feeling begins to wash over me, I kick my heels off and step out of my car. I make a beeline right towards the swings and thank her for nobody being here. I push off and as I begin to soar higher and higher, pumping my legs, I let the tears come. I cry for our anger with each other, our sorrows we shared, our time together and our time apart. I cry for her and I cry for me. I am probably going to hell, but I stare at the sky, past the clouds to the heavens and let a big “FUCK YOU!” out. Then I let myself remember. All of our first days of school, our crushes, our silliness, and our first loves and first dates. She was such a part of my life there is no escaping it and I feel it. I feel the peacefulness sweep over me.

  Making my way back to the box in my car, I search for “2” and rip it open. Inside are our pictures from our ninth grade dance. We had blinding smiles and the look of innocence. We thought we had the world by the balls, but it turned into a real dick and slapped us down several times. I think about Krista, why she may have given into the despair and darkness for a while, she clawed her way to the other side. On the back she wrote, “The best days of our lives,” and I have to laugh. We really thought we were hot shit back then, and I would do anything to have that feeling back, to have her standing by my side. I find “3” and open it.

  It is her class ring. I teased her relentlessly about getting that. She said she would always pass it down to her daughter and I should do the same thing. I never got one, and now I regret it. I realize now, she is giving it to me so my future daughter can have a part of her, and she will be a part of my life, my future even if she isn’t here with me. I search for “4” and I am almost frantic now. There is only one other envelope, but it is larger than the others. A single piece of paper flies out of the envelope and it says,

  “Go where the tide comes in.”

  I can’t. I swore I would never go back there. I haven’t faced those demons and I don’t know if I can. I have to do this for her. This is her tribute, her good-bye. I find myself in front of that house before I know it. Of all days to rip off this wound, I pick today to deal with it. Now I am saying goodbye to my sister, and my love all at once. I rip open “5” and there are two envelopes in there that say ‘Now’ and ‘Later’, so I open the ‘Now’ one. A CD comes out with a letter.

  Paisley,

  I know you are angry with me. That is okay, that means you miss me. I want you to take this second letter and put it in your glove box, and in four months, after your twenty-fifth birthday open it. I know enough time will have passed then and you will be ready to accept those words. Until then, listen to this song. I hate country, so you know I had to endure a lot to find it.

  Don’t ever regret what we became. We were still sisters, and no matter what, you would have always been my phone call. I love you and I believe in you.

  XOXO,

  Krista

  I actually find myself smiling about the phone call. We used to always joke with each other that we would each other’s phone call if we ever were in trouble. It was our way of telling each other that we had each other, always. I put the CD in and can’t believe she chose this song. ‘What Might Have Been’ by Little Texas plays through the speakers. I am itching to open the other letter, but I won’t. I set a reminder in my phone, for four months. October 3rd and promise myself I will honor her memory every day. I am going to YOLO this bitch.

  I make it back to my apartment, spent and exhausted. Wayne is waiting on my couch and he doesn’t say a word. He knows nothing he can say right now will help. He just holds me and I realize at this moment, he is now my best friend and that makes me sad. I have loved and lost several through my short life and I don’t want to lose another one, but after dealing with saying good-bye to Krista, I am afraid I cannot settle for what he is asking of me. I want to live, if not for myself than for her.

  Chapter
34

  Paisley

  Forgiveness is the final form of love.

  Reinhold Niebuhr

  My twenty-fifth birthday is fast approaching, and so much has happened in the past three months. Every day I am getting stronger and dealing with my grief. I have moved in with Wayne, and when he proposed last week, I said yes. It may not be what Krista wanted for me, she wanted me to have love, but it is what will make the happiest. I can’t risk love and loss again. I have doubts myself and every time he asks for a date I want to hyperventilate and take Benadryl because I break out in hives. It has only been seven days, but he has asked at least ten times in that time frame. Thank goodness I leave for three weeks today. I am going to the West Coast to handle some meetings and see if I can streamline the market for our MRI machine. I hurry up and pack and take my bag to the front door. Wayne is taking me to the airport because I hate leaving my car in long-term parking.

  After a quick peck, I am gathering my bags from the trunk and making my way to begin my journey. I don’t see any hiccups in the roll out of the machine, but I like to be hands on for training and if there are any obstacles I didn’t see. After the first week of non-stop texts and phone calls about picking a date, I just blurt one out . . . May. Pick a fucking date in May and we will get married. That gives me eight months to resolve myself to this. To take any regrets and doubts and face them head on. Wayne is pouting because I am on the road for my birthday but I am not upset. I just need a lot more me time lately and crave the solace.

  My alarm starts beeping in the middle of traffic in California. What the fuck? Oh God, it is October 3rd, and Krista’s letter is back home. I need that letter. I promised her I would read it. I call and beg Wayne to Fed-Ex it to my next stop, but he assures me I am being ridiculous because I will be home next week. I, in turn, assure him he won’t be tapping this ass when I get home, but I still don’t get him to give in. I don’t care how well he fucks me; I am seriously pissed at him and have plenty of batteries for my vibrators