“What’s this one for?” I asked, sniffing between every other word.
“Softening grief. Balasana…”
“What is that in English?”
Ember was silent apart from a few soft sniffs.
“Ember?” I asked again. “What is this called in English?”
“Child’s pose,” she whispered.
I took a deep breath. “Oh…”
A second later, Ember’s hand touched my arm, and her fingers worked their way down my skin until they found my hand. I gripped it for dear life.
“Just a few more breaths, k?” Her voice was strong and reassured.
For three deep breaths, I begged for my grief to be softened. I felt like I was being wrung out. With each breath I took, the grief was squeezed a little harder out of me, from places I thought I'd already wrung it from. It killed me to know that for two weeks, as I guzzled coffee and checked emails before heading to work, my wife was on this very floor with her sister, wringing out her own grief—and I’d had no idea that’s what she was doing.
Ember spoke again. “Slowly move into Shavasana to close it out, okay? We’ll hold that for a couple of minutes.”
“Thank God,” I mumbled. Shavasana was the first yoga pose I’d learned. You just lay back and … lay there.
Ember’s voice took on her instructor tone again. “Let the earth hold you, remember. Give yourself some space to process the feelings from the last pose.”
When our time was up and Ember said “Namaste” to me, more out of habit than anything else, we sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at each other.
“You made me cry,” I said as I wiped under my eyes, still not dry from all the wringing.
Ember shook her head. “Balasana did.”
“You made me do it.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to see if it worked on you.”
“Sorcery. First that tortuous push-up nonsense, then that?”
Ember gave a soft giggle before pulling the elastic from her hair and raking her fingers through her thick waves.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I blurted out as I watched her tie her hair back once more.
Her eyes shot open and moved rapidly over my face. I watched her shoulders rise slightly as she swallowed, her eyes starting to glisten with fresh tears. There had been so many tears, I wondered when either one of us would dry out.
Ember crawled over to me and pushed my knees apart, curling her body into mine.
She kissed my chin and rested her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. It was our loss. Not just mine, and not just yours. Ours. We’ve never grieved together, and this loss was so…” Her voice broke but she recovered quickly. “Much. I know I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, or a sibling…”
“Hey,” I cut in, rubbing my hand across her shoulders. “This was big. Deep. Like nothing I’ve ever felt. Listen … I’ve got something for you.” I nudged her forward and stood, walking to the backside of the Christmas tree.
I reached up as high as I could, feeling around for a minute before grasping the box and pulling it gown. I ran my thumb over the textured gold wrapping as I walked back to Ember and sat across from her on the floor.
“What’s this?” she asked as she took the package from my hand.
I laughed. “You always ask that. Just open it.”
She was careful as she separated the tape from the paper, taking care of the wrapping as if it were the gift itself. Removing the small square box from the paper, she eyed me.
“Go ahead,” I encouraged.
Slowly, Ember lifted the lid off the box. She gasped and covered her mouth with her fingers.
“Bo,” she whimpered as her head tilted to the side.
She looped her finger through the thin string and held the ornament in the air between us. It was a set of silver angel wings I’d found in a store in the center of town earlier that week. I was in there looking for something else for her for Christmas, and when I spotted the wings hanging behind the cashier, I discarded what was in my hand, and purchased the wings.
I cleared my throat. “I want you to know I felt it too. The loss. I miss the baby, too, Ember. These wings will remind us that the baby is always going to be a part of us, and is watching over us. My parents and sister, too.”
Ember nodded as tears rolled down her cheek. Still holding the ornament, she shifted forward and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She stood and placed the ornament front and center on the tree, then stepping back to admire it.
“It looks good.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close.
She nodded. “I want to keep it out year-round. We’ll find somewhere to hang it when Christmas is over.”
We stood in silence for a few moments, our eyes grazing over ornaments my sister and I had made as kids, and ones that my parents had exchanged with each other.
“I’ve never had a Christmas ornament before,” Ember said, as she remained focused on the tree.
The past couple of Christmases we’d exchanged gifts, but we’d been on the road, and never had a tree of our own.
“Well,” I sighed, “we’ll have plenty of time to fix that, won’t we?”
“We will,” she agreed. “I have something for you, too. But, we have to drive there.”
“Ember,” I grumbled teasingly, “why would you buy me a house? We have one right here.”
She pulled her head back and pursed her lips. “Yoga makes you weird. Put your coat on—we don’t need to change.”
Once we had our coats on and braced the bitter three-second walk to the car, Ember beat me to the driver’s seat. “I want it to be as much of a surprise as possible.”
I shrugged and got in the car, buckling my seatbelt as Ember pulled out of the driveway. As we rolled through the center of town, I took a few moments to enjoy the quaint shops that were decked out with perfectly placed lights and lush garland.
My idle enjoyment quickly turned to anxiety as Ember slowed down in front of the church. Without moving her eyes from the road, Ember drifted to a parking space directly in front of the steps, put the car in park, and cut the engine.
Neither of us moved for a solid fifteen seconds.
“What are we doing here?” I planted my elbow on the rounded edge by the window and rubbed my chin.
“It’s between Christmas Eve services,” Ember said plainly. “We probably won’t be alone, but it’ll be okay.” She placed the keys in her pocket and exited the car. I left my seatbelt on. Ember walked around to my side and opened the door. “It’s not polite to ignore me. It’s Christmas.”
My palms began to sweat. Not wanting a fight, I unlatched myself and stepped onto the frozen sidewalk. “Ember…”
She held up her hand and cut me off. “Bo, if you really don’t want to go in, we don’t have to. But, I want you to try. Trust me.”
“How long have you been planning this … whatever this is?”
Ember took a deep breath. “A few days, but,” her eyes watered, “after you gave me that gift I knew I had to do it now.”
She held out her hand, and I took it, walking one step behind her as we ascended the stairs. I kept my head down as we walked through the doors, just grateful that the building didn’t crash around me.
Ember didn’t stop walking until we reached the front. She pulled me to the left and sat in the front pew. You mean business if you sit in the front pew.
I sat next to her, my chest tightening as the rest of me began to sweat. I felt like I was going to explode.
“Look up,” Ember whispered.
I shook my head. “No.”
I’d seen it before.
Ember was quiet for a moment, gliding her thumb across my hand. “Bo,” she said again. “Look.”
Lifting my head, I was greeted with the same cross I’d screamed at weeks earlier. There was nothing different about it this time. Except everything.
> “What?” I questioned. “This is what you’re giving me?”
Ember nodded.
I shook my head, shrugging. “I don’t get it.”
My throat tightened as I fought to look away from the striking wood. I couldn’t.
Ember cleared her throat and wiped under her eyes. Her voice maintained a steady whisper. “Once upon a time, an angry, scared, and sad girl walked away from her dad.” Her lip quivered as bulbous tears fell. “On the second to last page, that girl and her dad made up … because her hero brought them together.”
I coughed as the pressure from my chest released through my eyes.
"You see,” Ember continued, tears falling more rapidly than I’d ever seen. “If the second to last page hadn’t been written, neither, then, would the last page.”
“What happened on the last page?” I tried to keep my voice quiet, but I never was skillful at talking through my tears.
Ember moved her hands to my face, looking me straight in the eye. ”She got to live happily ever after.”
She pressed her forehead into mine, the way we’d been when I’d asked her to marry me. “Come,” she said. “Live happily ever after with me.”
A loud sob leapt from my throat. “I’m so broken, Ember…”
She smiled. Even through those tears, her smile was the most beautiful thing I’d ever see in my life—I was sure of it.
“Me too. Let’s be broken together.”
I stood from the bench and squeezed Ember’s hand. I knew that in order to be the man she needed, I had to do this part alone. I moved to the same marble stairs that I’d crashed onto weeks before, but this time—when I crashed—it was in humility rather than anger.
Immediately, thoughts and prayers whose words were numbered enough to fill volumes of books filled my mind. I couldn’t speak a word. All I could do was bow my head and beg for forgiveness and strength through salty tears.
“She needs me,” I whispered. “I need you.”
A soft hand touched the back of my neck, and Ember knelt next to me. “You’ve given me faith, Bo, even if I’m not sure what I believe or where it fits,” she whispered. “The least I could do is give it back to you.”
There, on the cold marble stairs of a building as old as the town itself, Ember and I held onto each other as the church bells rang. And, I knew we’d be okay.
Ember
As Bo and I cruised at thirty thousand feet somewhere over the middle of the United States, he started humming “California Dreamin’.”
“Seriously?” I grinned and shook my head. “Every time, Cavanaugh? Do you have to sing that every time we come out here?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“So…” I started hesitantly.
“What is it?”
“Besides Willow and my parents, I’ve kind of been avoiding everyone for the last month.”
Bo shrugged. “They all know, Em. It’s not like we kept that a secret.”
“I know, but my concern is that they’re all going to be looking at me … at us. You know how I am, I don’t like to have to prepare an emotional reaction.” I leaned my head back and thought about how tense I’d felt at the DROP gala two weeks prior. The event was beautiful and no one treated me any differently, but I’d been a nervous wreck about what I’d say if someone asked.
“Well, remember what Dr. Bittman said at our last session. All you can do is thank people for their concern and be honest about your feelings if they ask. It’s not up to you to determine if they’re asking for you or themselves. Tell them how you’re feeling.” Bo gave me a soft kiss on my temple and went back to humming.
We’d seen Dr. Bittman once a week since Christmas, meaning we’d had another three sessions under our belt before taking this trip to California for our first PR buzz with Grounded Sound. Honestly, after Christmas Eve, there was a dramatic emotional shift in our relationship. Both of us felt it, but we wanted to keep up with therapy for a while to avoid any dark surprises hiding in our psyches.
That shift, though, was breathtaking. Palpable. Bo and I were calmer and gentler with each other than we’d ever been before. We were treating each other as human beings. Dr. Bittman had suggested we stop using the term “soul mate” with each other for a while. Just because it felt that way didn’t mean we had to beat each other to death with the pressures of the tag. The assumption, she’d pointed out, was that each of us would be perfectly flawless. Infallible to the ends of time.
Turns out, we weren’t. We needed to accept each other with all the flaws that made us who we were, and support each other along our path. Especially if we intended to walk that path together.
“Hello?” Bo raised his eyebrows as he leaned forward.
I shook my head to clear my daydream. “Huh?”
He grinned and put his hand on mine. “I asked if we were still staying with Willow.”
I nodded. “My parents are out of town with The Six this weekend, remember? Even if they weren't, I'd still like some extra time with Willow. Are Regan and Georgia still picking us up from the airport?”
“Yeah. Have you talked to Georgia recently?”
It was so good to be having normal conversations with Bo, I felt like I wanted to stay on that flight forever.
“A few times. She’s helping me out with something tonight after dinner.”
Bo scrunched his eyebrows. “What’s that?”
I shrugged and smiled. “Surprise. Not like the church surprise.” I chuckled and flipped through my Entertainment Weekly.
“Yeah, we need to work on your surprises,” Bo teased. He lifted my hand to his lips, giving me a quick kiss. “Seriously, though. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for that.”
“Just keep being the man you are,” I whispered. My attention was quickly diverted to the page I was reading. “Holy shit!” I yelped, causing the person in front of me to jump.
“What?” Bo sounded startled as he leaned in.
“Look!” I pointed to a page of “Upcoming News” and splashed on the right hand side of the page were two studio shots. One of me and Bo, and the other of Celtic Summer, from our recording session in early December at the GS studios in New York.
Bo leaned in further, squinting slightly. “Keep your eyes and ears on the Grounded Sound Entertainment website. You’re not going to want to miss out on the two albums they’re set to release this spring.”
The article spoke a little about the musical roots of each of the artists, discussed me, Bo, and Regan touring together for a year, and gave the name of the first singles we would be releasing. Which was news to us, but fine just the same. It appeared that Bo and I would be releasing "Crimson Minute" first.
“You need glasses,” I teased as Bo relaxed his eyes and sat back in his seat. “This is crazy exciting! Entertainment Weekly!”
Bo’s controlled smile was bursting at the seams with pride. “I’ve got chills,” he admitted.
“Hey, look at this.” I ran my finger along the bottom of the article. “Celtic Summer’s debut album will be titled Celtic Summer.”
Bo shrugged. “That’s standard. And ours?”
I smiled as I continued the sentence. “Bo and Ember.” My voice choked up just a little at the end. It was printed Bo & Ember, and no one would know just how much that ampersand represented. Intertwined. Never breaking.
“Sounds perfect to me.” Bo grinned.
As I looked again to the page, my stomach sank just a little. I ran my thumb over the picture EW had printed of Bo and me. It was from our last recording session the day we ended up leaving New York. Bo was whispering in my ear, and I was blushing like a girl on her first date. That whisper, I remembered, was about “our little secret” as we’d called it.
The two people on that page had absolutely no idea what the next twenty-four hours would bring, let alone the following month.
Bo nudged me as I bit my lip. “What is it?”
I turned to look at him, and my heart swelled with grat
itude that we’d made it through that dark time. We flirted with the edge of the cliff more than once, and we certainly weren’t through all of it, but we were much stronger than the couple in that picture.
“Nothing,” I whispered as I lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m just really proud of us.”
Bo wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Me too.”
Walking through the airport after retrieving our luggage, Bo and I were on the lookout for Regan and Georgia. About a second later, we heard a loud whistle at the same time that we saw Georgia’s head pop up through the crowd.
Standing on a bench in the middle of the crowded space, Georgia waved her arms frantically.
“It’s Bo and Ember!” she squealed like a rabid fan before jumping off the bench and running toward us.
“Oh my God,” I teased back. “Are you the Georgia Hall? The one who owns Sweet Forty-Two? Did you see Entertainment Weekly?” I was speaking a thousand miles a minute, and it felt good.
We met each other in the middle of what felt like a thousand tired and travel-worn strangers as we danced and hugged. Two years ago you could have bet me that this scene would be happening on this day with me and Georgia and I’d have lost that bet three-fold.
It was so good to see her again. She texted me three days after my miscarriage. Saying she was shit with talking about hard stuff—which I’d observed firsthand. She’d said she hoped the text didn’t come off as impersonal. Frankly, I was grateful for the casual communication. Each of us could talk when we were ready, and no one was waiting for an immediate response. The week following that, she’d sent an overnight package of her cupcakes. Four of them, to be exact. I ate two that night, and the other two were gone in the morning. I’d assumed Bo had eaten them, but we weren’t exactly on smooth communication at that point.
“I missed you,” I said as I squeezed the hell out of her.
Quickly, I exited that hug and dove into one with Regan. He held me tightly and whispered. “I’m so happy you’re here. Thanks for not running off to Ireland on me.”
I chuckled softly and hugged him harder. Regan and I had shared several texts over the last month, too. Ours started more somber in nature. After I’d ignored his first few texts in the two days following the miscarriage, he sent me another one and told me I better not take off for Ireland, the way he had when Rae died. That made me laugh and cry at the same time, earning him a three AM phone call. He confiscated my emotional passport, as he’d called it, and we’d talked and texted fairly regularly from that point on.
Bo & Ember Page 22