Bittersweet

by K. S. Thomas

  The day passes as we lie there and I watch the sun move behind him. So many times my eyes play tricks on me. I think he’s fading. I think he’s emanating light. I think he’s about to get up and simply walk away. Every time. I’m wrong. He remains. I remain. We stay. We breathe. In. Out. In...Out.

  I feel a chill on my skin and I don’t have to open my eyes to know the sun has begun to set. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping. I don’t remember falling asleep. I panic. What did I miss? I’m terrified to open my eyes again. Because I know.

  I know with an undeniable clarity, that he won’t be there when I open them. He was never going to leave while I was watching. He was never going to stay.

  Squeezing my lids together to fight the physical urge to open them, I whisper, “Carter?”

  But there’s no answer. There’s no Carter.

  In painful slow-motion, I force myself to face the truth.

  ...

  He’s gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Carter ~ Seven Years Ago

  “It’s not forever.” She’s smiling at me through her tears. I know it’s not forever, but even a day without her seems like too damn long to me right now.

  “Maybe I should just wait and leave tomorrow. It’s already late. I’ll end up hitting rush hour traffic if I leave now.” I’m making excuses. Weak ones at that, but I’ll use any reason I can come up with to squeeze even five more minutes of being with her out it.

  “You already used that excuse yesterday.” She giggles, snorting softly from crying. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. I’m definitely not leaving. Not now. Not ever.

  “This is stupid. I can start my classes here and then transfer next year when you’re ready.” I’ve made up my mind.

  So has Es. “You’re stupid if you think I’m really letting you do that. Cornell has the better architecture program. You’ve given up three and half years studying at a school you didn’t choose and getting a degree you didn’t want. It’s enough. It’s time you do this for you. And I’m not about to be the reason you accept less. Not when you deserve it all.”

  Most days I’m still not even sure I deserve her. “I’m going to marry you, Esi Harper. You know that don’t you?”

  “I’m the psychic’s daughter, remember? I knew you were going to marry me before you even rammed into me in that hallway.” There’s a wicked flash in her eyes and I don’t know if she’s fucking with me or not. I don’t really care.

  “As long we’re both on the same page.” I wink and pull her in for a kiss. A long, long kiss. Saying goodbye to her is going to take a while.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Esi

  The drive home is the pinnacle of my journey today. With the memory of the accident decidedly fresh in my mind and the excruciating reality in which Carter no longer exists, I not only have to survive the drive home to our daughter, I have to do it while passing the exact place Carter didn’t.

  I’m doing the best I can to keep it together, but it’s impossible. With the sun disappearing over the horizon and the night falling all around, my anxiety mounts. The roads continue to curve more frequently and I know I’m getting close.

  On the drive here, I purposely stared straight ahead, following the lines in the road to keep me focused, never once allowing my eyes to search my surroundings and accidentally seeking out the place my life had changed so drastically.

  Now, I can’t stop looking. Every turn, I fear for the sight of headlights. Anticipate a load of lost logs rolling across the highway. Neither come, of course. However, in the midst of my constant searching, something else catches my eye. Something completely unexpected. I have no choice but to pull over and walk back after I’ve seen it.

  With nothing but the dim glow of my car’s lights to guide me, I find my way back to where my eyes stopped so abruptly while driving by. It’s the arbor. The one Carter and I were married under. And it’s standing in the last spot we’d both been in together. Only now, instead of the floral decorations which had been tied to it for the ceremony, live vines swirl their way up and around the beautiful structure, tying it forever to the ground. Morning Glory.

  “Lev,” I whisper her name and drop to my knees beneath the trellis. My sister never ceases to amaze me. I feel the moisture on my skin again as I weep, unable to stop. And scared to death to keep going. Because the pain is so great and runs so deep, it seems like unleashing it, losing control, could actually destroy me. But I continue to weep until the weeping turns to sobbing, earth shattering sobs which shake me to my core.

  I. Am. Heartbroken.

  And the only one in the world who could fix it...is gone.

  ***

  By the time I pull up in my own driveway, I feel as though I’ve been away for years. Part of me is certain I will walk in and be greeted by a teenage Evan. That same part of me is determined to avoid mirrors for a while. I feel ancient. Running my hand through my hair I feel knots and big patches of teased hair along with leaves and dirt from lying on the ground for hours. I don’t care.

  My eyes are still puffy from crying and I don’t need a mirror to tell me that. My entire face feels as though it’s been hit by a frying pan, it’s so sore and swollen.

  I take my keys from the ignition and let my hands fall into my lap. My nails have rings of dirt under them and several of my fingers have dried blood on them. I must have cut them while at the arbor. I have vague memories of ripping weeds and rocks from the ground in the midst of my grief. I can’t remember specifically, or even why. Just that my hands had curled up to the point of cramping, so desperate to claw at something. As if I could physically escape my feelings somehow. But there was no escape. And no more avoiding.

  I have to walk in through that door. I have to go inside. I have to go home. Except home is where Carter is. Which makes this place nothing more than a house. A house filled with memories I’ll treasure someday but hate at this moment because every single one of them has the power to take me out. And I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for this. I have a daughter who needs me. Now more than ever before.

  I shift over into autopilot and watch from somewhere far away as my hand reaches for the door handle and gets out of the car. I feel like I’m floating ten feet in the air as I look down and see my feet move over the cobblestone walkway leading up to the front door. Then I stop. Standing on my front step, staring down at my feet like I’ve hit an impasse and my body no longer knows how to proceed without further assistance from my brain. Only my brain is fighting it. My brain doesn’t want to go in. It’s preserving what’s left of my sanity by staying outside.

  Then Lev opens the door inside and crushes what was left of it.

  “Oh my God.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth when she sees me. Then she whispers, “He’s gone.”

  All I can do is nod and stumble into her arms. The sobbing starts all over again. This time my sister is there to rock me gently and soothes me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

  When I finally calm down, Lev leaves me to make tea. I try not to look around too much. Thankfully, most of the lights are out and the darkness from outside has seeped inside, making it easy not to see things too clearly. The baby monitor is sitting on the coffee table and I can hear a quiet murmur as Evan coos to herself in her sleep. Part of me wants to run upstairs and curl up in her crib beside her. The other part of me knows it would be wrong. She’s my everything now. She’s it. But I can’t allow it to become a burden to her. It’s not her responsibility to love me whole again. I’ll have to learn to do that for myself. Somehow.

  I’m still blindly staring at the baby monitor when Lev walks back into the room, carrying two cups of tea. She holds one out to me and I wrap both palms around it, soaking up the warmth. I’m prepared to take comfort wherever I can find it and I’ve never appreciated the simple small things more than I do at this moment.

  While I watch the steam rise up from the amber liquid, a new thought slowly sw
irls to the forefront of my mind. A thought I was consciously aware of until now.

  “How long have you known?”

  Lev takes her seat on the recliner across from me. “I wondered for a while...the cold.”

  But that wasn’t the only reason. “You saw him. At the hospital.”

  “I did.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her, and I don’t know if it’s because of what she’s admitting about me, or herself.

  “Is that...normal?” Because according to her, seeing dead people is anything but and she’s always denied having any part in it. Other things she hasn’t been as good at hiding, but this. This I wasn’t aware of.

  Lev shifts around in her seat, licking her lips several times before she finally speaks again. “I’ve always seen them. But they don’t reach out to me. Not like they do to you. They’ve never sought me out.”

  I still haven’t had a drink of my tea, but I don’t really have an appetite anyway. “Did Carter talk to you?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I don’t think he knew I’d even be able to see him until that day in your hospital room.”

  “Does Ma know?”

  “She thinks you’ve been in denial. She doesn’t know why or how much. I haven’t told her. And seeing isn’t her thing, so...” Lev sets her cup down on the coffee table. She isn’t drinking her tea either. Maybe all we really needed was the warmth and something to do with our hands. It does seem to alleviate some of the overthinking and overanalyzing happening in my brain.

  I nod. It’s a delayed reaction, but everything about me is in slow motion mode so I don’t think Lev notices. I clear my throat. “I feel like I’ve missed this whole last year. It’s like I was living in some parallel dimension or something. I don’t even know what I don’t know...I mean, was there a funeral? What happened to...to...?” But I can’t bring myself to say it. I don’t even want to think it.

  Lev understands. “He was buried. You were in the hospital.” She takes a deep breath and I wonder how long she’s been dreading having to tell me this. “That first night, something happened. No one really knew what triggered it, but you woke up sometime after Ma and I left. You were alone in the room...and you just had a complete breakdown. The nurses said you were so distraught they were worried you would injure yourself. You had to be sedated, Esi.”

  I swallow hard. I remember. But I don’t explain. Lev can piece it together for herself.

  “The next morning, Ma and I came to see you. We told the doctors we wanted to be the ones to tell you about...about Carter. But, you already knew. We could tell. The way you stared blankly at the wall. You wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t acknowledge either of us was even there. It was like you just shut down. Completely. You were like that for days. And when you weren’t lying there like a comatose person with her eyes wide open, you were sobbing so violently they had no choice but to dope you up again. It was mess, Esi. And Carter’s mom, she took full advantage of it. Within forty-eight hours of his death she had his uncle petition a court to have his body released to her. They claimed you were incompetent due to your physical and mental state after the accident and as his mother she was his legal next of kin after you. With their family connections, it took all of three seconds for the judge to approve it. He was buried at St. Mary’s a week later. Ma and I both went. We tried to take you, too, but the doctors refused to release you, and honestly, I don’t think you would have remembered if we had.”

  The thought of Carter being inside of a box buried under several feet of dirt makes my stomach turn and I force my brain to move forward. This is no place to dwell. It’s too much. It was only hours ago that I believed we were celebrating our one year anniversary. I’m not ready to face a reality in which his body is decaying and becoming one with the earth that now surrounds him.

  Pushing my thoughts along at a rapid speed, I search the million different red flags crowding my subconscious and threatening to send me into a full blown anxiety attack for one big and glaring enough flag to anchor my mind there and far away from the haunting visuals I’m desperate to unsee.

  “Lev. This house. All of my bills. What have we been living on? I’ve hardly worked in a year. And what little pay I got while I was on maternity leave was nowhere near enough to cover our expenses. Never mind the fact that I haven’t paid a single bill in years.” Carter was the organized one. He took over handling our finances years ago.

  My sister reaches out her hand and places it on mine. “It’s okay. I’ve been taking care of things. I had to go through your savings at first, but then, the settlement came in. You and Evan are going to be fine.”

  I don’t understand. “What settlement?”

  “There was a settlement. From the accident. Esi, it was a lot. Especially once they had to factor in Evan.”

  “Oh.” It’s all so surreal. “Thank you. For taking care of everything. For taking care of me. I mean it, Lev. I don’t know where I’d be right now if you it weren’t for you.”

  She gets up and sits beside me, tugging me close until my head is resting on her shoulder. “That’s what big sisters are for, Esi.” She’s getting choked up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be the one falling apart right now.” She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Don’t be stupid, Lev. You lost him, too. I know that.” My voice sounds subdued and hollow. I hardly recognize it.

  “But not like you did. God, Esi. He was your soulmate. Everyone knew it. The way he loved you...” her words tail off.

  I feel my face tighten up and my mouth twitch, fighting off the next round of emotions. I’m exhausted. I don’t even know how my body is still capable of feeling anything. “You’re right. His love was extraordinary. And that’s why I know I’m going to be okay, Lev. His love is going to get me through this. And it’s all wrapped up in a perfect package upstairs in the nursery.”

  Lev looks at me and manages a smile. “She really is a miracle, Esi. The most amazing miracle I’ve ever seen.”

  She is. Evan Jacelyn Carter. My miracle amid the nightmare.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Esi

  It’s been two weeks and I still find myself walking around this house like a zombie at times. When things get really bad, I open up Carter’s closet and hide inside of it. It still smells like him. Even a year later. Probably because the doors had been closed that entire time, preserving everything inside. Including the green shirt and khaki pants. Most nights, I take the shirt off of its hanger and wear it. I try not to keep it on for too long because I don’t want to have to wash it. I know eventually Evan will leave her mark on it in one way or another and I’ll have no choice but to rinse away what’s left of Carter from the last time he wore it and put it up instead of throwing it into the hamper. I used to yell at him for that. Now, I’m grateful he believed in wearing a shirt more than once from time to time.

  I still haven’t walked into his office. I can’t. I know what I’ll find. Half-finished sketches. Scattered pencils, all sprinkled with teeth marks from the way he kept them in his mouth while he was contemplating his designs. His coffee mug is missing, too. All this time I just assumed he was using it every morning. Now I know it’s been sitting in there on his desk this whole year. A dried ring of coffee in the bottom of it. Unused. Untouched.

  Mr. Nigellus has been hanging around the house more than usual. I think he senses I’m lost. He hasn’t been out for more than an hour or two at time since I came home blown to bits by my unwanted reality.

  In some ways, the transition has been easier than I thought though. Every day, I see a little more clearly how much of my life has been moving along without him in it. Even though it felt like everything came crashing down on me that night, the truth is, he was leaving me a little bit each day he stayed behind, allowing me to slowly heal a wound I didn’t even know existed.

  It won’t ever heal completely and I know that, but I’m grateful for the closure Carter gave me. The graceful way he let me go. And the love he showed me up until th
e very end. Still shows me now. I haven’t seen him since that day in the field. But some nights, when Evan wakes up, I hear his voice, softly singing to her. When I go in to see her, she’s smiling the way she only ever does for him and I know he still visits her. It’s different now. But he’s still here. He’s still with us.

  As per his suggestion, I’ve slowly started converting my dining room into an office. So far I’m still limiting myself to one patient, but I have plans to begin seeing others again soon.

  In the meantime, Cynthia still needs me. But, I’m hoping after today, she won’t need me as much.

  When I turn the corner into the living room, I find her mother already sitting on my sofa.

  “Hi Margaret.” Even now as she sits there in the center of my living room, her black eye is the most prominent thing about her. She isn’t ready to move on. Isn’t ready to let go. And I know it’s part of the reason Cyndie can’t either. “Cynthia’s going to be here in a minute. Is there anything you’d like me to share with her today?” As always, her response is the same and a rapid slide show of blurred images ensues in my mind. I’ve seen them all a hundred times, most of them I understand. She wants Cynthia to be strong. To be happy. To stay safe. Other images are still a mystery to me. Like the numbers. Twenty-seven, thirty-nine, ninety-seven. I’ve tried a million different ways to work them into conversations with Cynthia, but short of saying the actual combination and explaining where I got it, I haven’t had much success.