by H. J. Bellus
“You can do this.” Jazzy places a kiss on my forehead and gestures the way with her hand.
“She’d be so proud, Jenni.”
Lynlee kisses the other cheek as her tears stream freely down her face.
Focusing in on the black trim around the head of the microphone, I make my up to the stand. Looking back, I notice Jazzy and Lynlee are firmly planted at the bottom of the stairs, focused on me. Reaching for the microphone, I adjust it and take a breath. I keep my eyes focused on the sliver stand.
It takes me several moments to be able to speak.
“Than…”
I try a couple more times before the hollow lump in my throat is gone. It’s not a confident voice, but all I worry about is that sound is coming out.
“Thank you for coming today. My Aunt Danielle was a very kind and loving person. As Pastor Jones said, she loved to tell stories, and I can assure you she told me plenty about all of you.” My eyes analyze the line running up the silver part of the microphone stand. I’m not yet brave enough to look up into the audience, so clutching my paper, I begin to read.
“My aunt took me in as her own. However, she loved me from a very young age and was always my role model, telling me I could do anything I set my sights to. She is the one person on the face of the Earth who truly made me feel special. To me, she was my hero. She instilled in me confidence and a desire to be better in life. The kid who no one wanted. The kid who drove adults nuts with her hyperactivity. The kid who couldn’t sit still. The kid who never shut up. She loved that kid and made me feel loved.”
The eulogy on my page ends, and I suddenly feel embarrassed by the little that I wrote. When writing the words, I meant each one of them whole-heartedly. A loud cough in the back of the church draws my attention and a sea of people come into view. Their grieving faces do something to me and I just begin to talk while looking directly at them.
“One thing that would really piss my aunt off was using her steak knives to open packages. I knew this, but call me a kid at heart, I was always so excited to open a package that I’d grab the closest utensil. If she ever caught me she’d chase me around with a wooden spoon. Hell, even just a month ago she was chasing me around the kitchen.”
A bout of laughter fills the church and I continue telling stories.
“I’m sure my aunt isn’t shocked that I’m standing up here talking. She always did tell me I have the gift of gab. I guess I just want to leave you with how truly patient Danielle was. I tested her patience from childhood until now. From painting on walls that weren’t supposed to be painted with fingernail polish, to never deciding on a career. She’d always just shake her head at me and say, ‘One day you’ll bloom, my li’l tulip.’ Never once was she ever disappointed in me, and let me just say I’ve done a lot of foolish stuff in my life.”
My voice begins to crack with my next words. Pausing a second, I inhale and try to relax, but every single muscle in my throat constricts. The more I try to relax, the tougher it is to breathe.
“How do…”
I’m gasping for air and am forced to stop speaking. Jazzy and Lynlee are at my side, holding on to me. Their faces reassure me, and I try again to calm down. I force through the tears and my tightening throat.
“How do you let go of someone who loved you with no boundaries? How do you live without the love of the one person who saw you for you? I want to know how I’m ever supposed to live again without her love.”
My chest gives out a wracking sob with my last word, and this pause takes longer than the first. I let go of all my anger and hurt surrounding my heart and talk freely for the first time in my life.
“I always thought my Aunt Danielle loved me because she felt bad for me. I thought she filled my head with silly dreams because no one else was there, but as I stand here today I finally understand the gift she gave me. All these years she was trying to teach me to love myself. I’ll walk on in life with that. Her gift of love. Thank you.”
I sag with relief as I leave the podium. I lean on Jazzy and Lynlee because there’s no possible way I could walk on my own. Every word I spoke was nothing but the truth. We sit back down and I lean my head on Jazzy’s shoulder as the slideshow begins to play. Pictures of Aunt Danielle from her youth pass by, some by herself and some with my father. Their happy faces from their childhood fill the screen, and I notice there are not many of my aunt in her teen years or early adulthood.
It skips straight to my baby pictures and her either in the background or holding me. It shows every stage of my life with my sweet aunt by my side. I smile at some of the memories, and others make me cry harder.
“She really loved you,” Jazzy says.
My freshman year picture flashes up, standing in front of the bakery with Danielle and my first set of wheels.
“That dress, though,” Levi says.
All of us on the front bench begin to chuckle at his words, and clearly my choice in apparel, because it was hideous, but I remember begging her for that outfit. I had to stuff over three dozen cream filled doughnuts for it. The slideshow ends on a picture of Danielle in her bakery, smiling proudly with me sitting on the counter in way too short shorts.
“I want to go home.”
Chapter 17
The days have passed slowly. My heart still hurts and Danielle is still dead. I’ve slept in her bed for the last couple weeks just so I can surround myself with her scent. I made the executive decision to keep the bakery closed, along with the coffee shop excusing all employees. Quality work was the heart of Danielle’s business, and I know I couldn’t live up to it in this state. I’ve managed to make it to the grocery store and over to Lynlee’s one night for dinner.
Returning home was the worst experience ever and the most severe panic attack I’ve ever had. I took some pills and had a glass of wine, and they worked like magic. Night after night, I’ve been able to cope with just a couple glasses of wine. It seems like a miracle when my feelings want to start talking.
I find my way to my Danielle’s closet and sit on the floor. It’s my favorite place in the morning, and it’s where her scent is the strongest. I always have my favorite mug, which she used to drink hot coffee from every morning. Staring at her clothes, I know it’s time for the next step. I just don’t know what the next step is. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of her clothes or any of her belongings, but I know it’s time to move on.
I need to decide what I want for the future, and I think it’s time I try to run the bakery and the coffee shop. I don’t have the training or knowledge needed, but I will fight to keep it open. Time is all I have on my hands, so I might as well put it to good use.
The closet is dark with no ray of sun peeking in the open door, so I know it’s still very early. Sleep is another thing that seems to escape me. I haven’t replaced my cellphone, which drives my friends nuts, but it hasn’t been on my priority list.
Walking out into the bedroom, I see the six forty-five on the alarm clock and decide on a hot shower, really hoping the steam will give me the willpower to push through today and finally make my way to the bakery. I want it.
The water is refreshing as it beats down on my skin, and I find myself turning the water so hot it’s almost painful. Fully awake, I begin to wash away my worry and try to convince myself everything will be okay today.
When I turn off the water, I hear the telephone ring and don’t rush to get it. It rings once and then twice before it stops, and I giggle because I know it’s Jazzy. She calls every morning, only letting it ring twice before hanging up. She says it’s her way of letting me know I’m always on her mind and that her door is open to me.
I act like it’s a silly little thing, but deep down it means everything to me. In fact, I’ve lain in bed several mornings waiting for those two rings before even daring to get up. The unique tone of the ringing has become my reassurance that another day will come and go, and I will still be here.
Keys, another mug of coffee, and I’m off
to my first adventure as a business owner. Fuck, I still need to sign those papers. Aunt Danielle’s lawyer keeps calling and leaving messages for me to come to the office and sign the final papers. I avoid it.
The kitchen is quiet and peaceful. I never spend much time in here because it was always Danielle’s favorite place to be, even in her own home. So, I scurry over to the rack holding several keys and try to remember which set was the backup to the bakery. I’m sure her old ones are still at the bakery. When Lynlee dropped off her belongings, I don’t remember seeing a pair of keys.
The neon green keychain jars my memory, so I grab them and another cup of coffee and make my way to the garage. Rushing out the door with one free hand, my jacket snags on the doorframe, pulling me back and causing my elbow to slam into the white molding and my coffee to spill on the bare skin of my leg. The pain from my elbow is sharp and steady, but it’s the sting of the burn causing the most hurt.
I push the garage door opener on the inside of the car and nothing happens. Pushing it again, nothing. This time I slam it with my free hand as hard as possible, and nothing.
“Are you freakin’-ass, mother-truckin’ serious right now?”
My loud voice frightens me. Marching straight through the house and out the front door, I go for the keypad located outside the garage. I’ve got this shit show, and I’m about to make it my bitch. I’ve entered this garage more than once using the key code because my keys were nowhere to be found.
Quickly and very pissed off, I punch in the numbers four, six, six, seven and then slam enter. The gyrating vibration of the door rising surrounds me as my leg kicks upward toward the stubborn fucking door. I’m late on my kick and my knee slams into the bottom of the rising garage door.
“Ow. Ow. Owie. Oh, good gravy, that freakin’-ass hurt.” Bouncing around on one steady leg, the remaining hot coffee tumbles onto my shirt, scalding my chest. It’s the final straw and I blow. I send the mug sailing to the cement pad, screaming. A delicate terracotta pot sitting to my left on the windowsill is in my hands before I know it, and I hurl it to the ground as well.
“Why? Why?” I scream.
My arm sweeps across the remaining pots on the windowsill, sending them into the air. My arm cocks back, ready to punch out the window as the sting from the coffee subsides on my skin.
Before I have the chance to put my fist through the window, two strong arms wrap around me. I fight them and scream louder, asking the heavens why and begging and pleading for my life back. The grip grows tighter as my fight increases.
“Let go of me, Levi.” He doesn’t respond, making me even more violent.
I fight like hell to break loose from his hold. He’s had to stop me in the past, but not today. Not on the day I decided to make an effort. Not on the day when everything fell to shit. He doesn’t get to save me this time.
“Let me fucking go, now.”
He doesn’t say a word and only pulls me in tighter as I thrash against his hold. My elbows desperately struggle to land a blow to his ribcage, but can’t seem to find any traction. I even kick back into his shin, and nothing. No contact. I surrender and fall into a weeping mess in his arms.
I had one goal today and totally blew it. Sobbing and screaming, I fully give in to his hold. Everything I thought I could be today vanishes in an instant. I try to speak again to let him know he can leave and I’ll be okay, but a jumbled mess of speech pours out. Slowing down my breathing, I try again, but again nothing. My knees buckle and every ounce of fight I built up for this day vanishes in moments.
“Look at me.”
Great! Now my mind is playing tricks on me too. That voice is so familiar, but so not Levi’s. I’m spun around in a flash and facing him. My heart stops and my blood runs cold. I take several steps back, shaking my head and trying to make sense of the whole picture.
“Jenni.”
Something catches the back of my legs and I begin to tumble to the ground. His hands catch me in time, and again I’m face to face with him. I’m not sure if it’s from the overwhelming morning or the fact he’s standing before me, but I begin to lose my shit again.
“Leave. Leave now.” My hands crash into his chest. They are insignificant compared to it, but it doesn’t stop me from raining hell on him. “Get the fuck out of here.”
His statue of a frame doesn’t budge an inch as he stands in front of me, taking every single blow. My words and name-calling match my fists as they land on him.
“I fucking hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you.” My palm finds his cheek, slapping him with all my force. “You left me like everyone else. I. Hate. You.”
Raising my hand again, I steady myself to slap him. He doesn’t flinch or duck, and I let him have it until my palm stings and can’t bear any more pain. He never attempts to grab my hand or stop me from hitting him. My energy wears out and I sink to the ground. Before I make contact with the cement I’m in his arms again.
“Jenni.”
I don’t respond to him or even make eye contact. The damage of being in his arms one more time is more than I can handle.
“Jenni, I love you.” His words hurt. I’ve imagined him for weeks now standing before me and speaking those simple words. “I’m Beau, but to you I’m Jeremiah, I’m your whole story, the beginning, middle, and the end.”
“Please leave.”
I’m lifted from my feet and carried into the house. Beau lays me down on the couch, using a soft, pale pink throw blanket to cover me up. I watch him as he looks around the house, and it’s as if I can read his mind from the expression on his face.
“Just leave me alone.”
He turns around and makes his way to the door.
“You hurt me worse than Maxton ever thought of doing, Beau.”
His fists clench at his sides and his neck muscles contract. I can only imagine the look on his face right now. I wait for him to stomp out the front door and send it slamming in his wake.
“I’m not leaving, Jenni. I came back for you.”
“Maybe you never should have pushed me away.”
Sitting up on the couch and tearing the blanket from me, I make sure he understands every word. “You chose to leave me, so stay gone, you asshole.”
This time he walks away. His fists are unclenched and he never slams the door. Where did I go wrong today? I rush to the kitchen counter and swallow as many pills as are left in the translucent orange bottle, because clearly I just had the worst nightmare of my life. My eyelids are heavy by the time I make it back to the couch, and when my body is fully on the soft cushions, my mind drifts far away from reality, the bakery, and everyday things, and straight into a sense of relief where no worries threaten anyone.
The ringing of the phone pulls me from a haze, but it’s not enough to fully awaken me. It continues to ring-ring-ring and I just let it go. I want to wake to answer it, but can’t force myself. Soon it stops and I drift back to sleep.
“I tried waking her.” A voice enters my thoughts again. “She’s breathing. I’ve made sure of that.”
“How long has she been out?” It’s Jazzy’s voice, and I look around to find her but I only see a sea of strange people staring at me. Some are even pointing.
“Two hours. I called you after the first hour.” The deep voice Jazzy is talking to is sexy and oh-so-familiar. It’s like I want to take a hot shower with him, but I remember I hate him.
“Jenni.” Jazzy’s voice is clearer this time and harsh. My eyes pry open and I see Jazzy in my face with Beau standing behind her.
“I told you to leave.” My words are barely audible.
Jazzy completely ignores me. “How many pills did you take? What did you do?”
The panic in her voice hurts my heart and I feel bad for worrying her. Honestly, I don’t remember how many I took. I finished off the bottle to feel nothing. It’s what I love.
“I don’t know, but I’m fine.” Sitting up, my head spins as my high from the pills is still in full effect. The room twir
ls and my stomach takes a dip as I try to stand. My body goes straight up into a standing position, but keeps moving and I can’t stop my momentum. Jazzy lunges for me but isn’t strong enough to stop me.
Beau pushes her aside and holds me. I fall into his arms easily and don’t have the will or the equilibrium to fight it.
“Jump, baby girl.” His arms wrap under my arms and I follow his directions and jump as high as I can into his arms. He secures me against him, and I relax as he begins to walk up the stairs. I hear Jazzy’s voice in the back questioning him, berating him with all kinds of questions.
“I’ll take care of her. I’m not here to hurt her or fight.” Beau stops and slightly turns to face Jazzy. “I’m here forever.”
His words seep through my foggy haze and I recognize his determined voice. The voice that gets what it wants because he won’t accept no for an answer. The word no bounces around in my heard, and after a few minutes I’ve convinced myself that I made it up. Beau would never use the word forever.
Jazzy’s voice fades into the background as Beau climbs the steps.
“Right or left, I can’t remember.”
I gesture to the right with my head. Beau enters my room and goes straight to the bathroom. He doesn’t let go of me as he turns on the shower. The bathroom quickly steams up with the hot water. The scent of the steam and being held by Beau undoes me. It tears apart everything I’ve so desperately tried to patch back together the last few days. He rips me down without even knowing it.
“I’m going to put you down, Jenni.”
Staring into the eyes of the man I love, I can’t say a word. I let him take each piece of my clothing off and memorize the paths his knuckles take down my skin. Naked, I begin to shiver. It’s intense and controlling my body right now.
I am lifted from the ground again as we step into the shower together. I’m in his arms, and he is fully clothed. The steady stream of hot water pouring down on me settles the shivers.