Remembering Phoenix

by Randa Lynn

  Sitting down in my desk chair, I scratch my head, taking the time to take a deep breath before I answer. My mind drifts to Charlie. The pain in her eyes the night she kicked me out. I could see it. In the way her bottom lip quivered. The way her eyes narrowed as she tried concentrating on doing what she thought was best. “Shit, yeah. Except there is no girl anymore.”

  “Sorry, amigo.” He tosses his hard hat on the table and stands up. “It’s quitting time for me today. I’m going home to see my wife.”

  “Yeah,” I say to myself as he walks out of the makeshift office, “I’m going home to no one.”

  “You are stunning, Kerri.” The model poses in Vinny P’s, a well-known wedding gown designer, A-line wedding dress. When Vinny’s usual photographer had to cancel last minute due to a family death, he called me. It’s not my usual thing, but I was honored.

  Of course I said yes, because busy is my thing. Busy is my calm. It’s the only thing that makes me not go absolutely insane.

  After we get enough workable shots in that gown, Kerri sashays off to the back to change into the final number. I’ve been here for five hours, with about another hour left. While Kerri, the makeup artist, and stylists are in the back, I take the time to look over the shots I’ve gotten so far.

  It’s a daunting task skimming through hundreds and hundreds of photos just to find fifteen or twenty of the perfect ones. I scroll through, adding the ones I think have the possibilities to be the one and place them in their own folder on my MacBook.

  “Hello, hello!” Vinny saunters in with his hot cup of Starbucks in his hand. “How has everything been going? So very sorry I am late.” He laughs. “Thank goodness for my assistant keeping everything in line. I had to meet with contractors that are doing renovations on the building.” He taps away on his iPhone momentarily. “He’s coming in at some point today to measure a few things. I am so ready to have the updates complete.”

  He jabs on some more, but I pay little attention as I scroll through the last of the pictures. Kerri finally comes out, her dark brunette hair now done in a low bun. Her blue eyes pierce through the lens of the camera as she stands, a beautiful bouquet of peonies in her hands. As I snap away, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if I were in that very wedding gown. A plunging cut out in the back, capped lace sleeves, and lace fitted bodice, as the bottom falls in a soft wave of material. It’s absolutely stunning, and the girly part of me wishes that could be me one day.

  But wishing is for kids.

  We wrap up the photoshoot, and Kerri leaves. As I finish packing up all of my gear, Vinny walks over to me. “From what I have seen, these are spectacular.”

  I smile. “Thank you. Your gorgeous dresses made it easy.”

  He waves his hand in front of him. “Oh my dear, you do not give yourself enough credit.” I shrug as he continues his banter. “Believing is the first step in succeeding. You can succeed far greater things than you ever dreamed if you just believe.”

  I smile lightly and nod my head. “Thank you Vinny. I’ll remember that.”

  He sits down on the stool, his almond shaped eyes delve into me. “My grandfather always told me that the mark of true beauty is someone who doesn’t realize her own beauty.” He reaches out and grabs my hands, gently squeezing them. “You are beautiful, Miss McGee.”

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my nervous habits coming into full display. I don’t know what it is with me and people trying to give me meaningful life lessons or mantras, but it makes me uneasy. And it seems to happen a lot.

  I throw my camera bag over my shoulders and pick up my accessories case. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Vinny. I will have all the edited photos back to you as soon as possible. I’m actually going to start on them as soon as I leave here.”

  He leans in and kisses me on both cheeks. “Thank you, darling. You are such a gem.”

  I leave Vinny, and his studio, feeling a pang of envy over how easy living comes for some people. I wonder what it would be like to go about my day without a single worry in the world. I wonder what it would be like to be completely, one-hundred percent, happy without ever having the shadow of depression following me around.

  On the way down, the air surrounding me doesn’t ease up. It’s still filled with that underlying feel of gloom. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it.

  I haven’t been able to since I pushed the one person who cared about me, who accepted me, away.

  The door of the elevators open, and I walk out. I pause to tighten the grip on my gear when I see two guys walk inside the adjacent elevator. I instantly feel that pull, that spark so strong, and it’s unmistakable. As the taller guy turns around, those gray eyes pierce straight into my already fragile soul.

  His eyes widen, his lips parting ever so slightly, as he stares at me. I feel like everything freezes as we stare at each other. The silence is deadening. We’re so close physically, yet so many miles apart emotionally. My breathing ceases as I drink him in. His dark jeans hang perfectly from his hips. His pale orange button up, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, show his muscular forearm. He’s as good looking as he’s always been, except there’s more pain in his eyes than I’m used to.

  The elevator doors start to slide shut. I blink as reality comes rushing back to me. Quickly turning my eyes away, I hurry out of the building, needing to get a breath of fresh air.

  I haven’t seen him in weeks, and this is where I see him?

  Of course he’s who is doing renovations for Vinny. Why would it be anyone else?

  Fate must really hate me.

  I take a sip of my coffee as I click away on my MacBook. I’ve been staring at this screen for the past two hours, attempting to get this photoshoot edited. My mind keeps drifting, no matter how hard I try.

  My mind is a carousel, constantly spinning, yet never going anywhere at all.

  I go back and forth in my mind daily. I’m swimming, barely treading the waters. Sometimes I get tired and slip back under. Sometimes I feel like I’ll be able to tread for eternity. Sometimes the pain is so great that it actually feels like it’s suffocating me.

  Life is ruthless. Its push and pull is merciless. And more often than not, my strength doesn’t withstand its blow. My only life raft is Slayter Beck. But he shouldn’t have to jump out in the storm to save me.

  Which is why I pushed him away. Seeing him earlier only worsened the blow to my heart.

  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts of him.

  A mother and her son walk in the door of the coffee shop all bundled in their jackets. The little boy wipes his arm under his nose. “Stop that, Isaac. Where are your manners?” The mother tugs his arm from his face.

  I watch as he looks up at her. “Sorry, Mommy.” His bottom lip protrudes from his mouth as he pouts. I want to pick him up and hug him. Tell him it’s alright. Don’t ever be sorry for being a kid, Isaac, I think to myself. Sometimes life takes that opportunity from kids your age. As soon as the thoughts pass through me, he glances my way. His hair is blonde, just like Phoenix’s was. Board straight, however; his eyes an ocean blue. He smiles at me. His one little dimple shines as his eyes squint shut. “Hi,” he says, waving slightly.

  I feel the tears threatening to form in my eyes. That stinging pain residing right there behind every blink. The mom and little boy continue up to the counter to order. I close my eyes, pain welling within me. Jealousy. Anger. Sadness.

  That could’ve been us, Phoenix.

  I count to ten and take a deep breath. When I open my eyes again, the little boy stands directly in front of me. I startle in my seat. Closing my computer, I glance back to the little boy’s mother. She doesn’t even realize he’s gone.

  “You’re really pretty,” he says.

  I shift, nervous because of a child no older than five. “Thank you.”

  “What’s your name?” he asks, inching closer to me. I can see the freckles lightly peppering the tops of his cheeks. Kis
sed by the angels.

  “I’m Charlie,” I tell him. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Isaac Fisher.” He smiles, his front tooth missing. “You have a big scar on your face.”

  I instantly cover the major flaw marring my skin. It’s ugly, I know it. But this child just gave me all the affirmation to its hideousness. “I like it,” he admits, inching even closer. I can feel the heat from his breath on my hand as I squeeze tighter to the arm rails. My knuckles turn white against the pressure.

  “You should go back to your mommy,” I say, nodding my head in her direction.

  “You’re a mommy, aren’t you?” he asks, like he already knows the answer. Is this kid kin to my shrink, Dr. White? His tone is so doctor-ish.

  “I was,” I admit.

  “Mommy always says that once you’re something, you never stop. Why do you say you was?” His eyebrows scrunch at his question. He studies me intently.

  “Because, Isaac, my little boy passed away.” Saying the words out loud to a complete stranger, a kid no less, makes the realness of the void in my life ever-present in the atmosphere. It’s stagnant. My heart aches. My eyes burn. But I can’t cry, because I feel like if I do, I’ll let Isaac down. And if I let Isaac down, I feel like that will be letting Phoenix down, and I’ve done that enough in this lifetime. I won’t do it right now.

  “You’re still a mommy in here.” He holds his hand up to his chest. “Mommy says I’m still a brother in here. My sister died the other year. She was one.” He looks down at his feet. “I don’t remember her, though. I was too little to remember.”

  And instantly the pain I feel gets multiplied tenfold. Not for me and my hurt, but for little Isaac and the loss he feels.

  He looks up at me and smiles. “I don’t like not merembering.” He fumbles on the word remembering and I smile, all the while my heart is breaking more than it already was. It’s strange how a heart that is already in a billion pieces can break even more.

  I don’t like not remembering, either, Isaac.

  Texas weather can be so unpredictable. One day it can be seventy and sunny, the next it could be thirty and snowing. The next day could be thunderstorms and tornadoes.

  Today it’s raining. I guess April showers will bring May flowers. Right now, it's just bringing me aggravation.

  I button up my coat and flip open the umbrella as I slowly walk through the cemetery towards my parents.

  I haven’t come out here since their funeral. I don’t really see the need because they’re not here. Some people go to a grave site to feel closer to their loved ones that have passed away. I’ve just never understood that thought process. I don’t feel closer to my parents when I come out here. I see a cold head stone that’s etched with their dates-of-birth and their identical death dates.

  But something brought me out here today.

  I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach; their graves on my mind. So here I am, on this very strange day, standing out in the rain.

  I walk over to their head stones marked Randy & Patty Beck – Forever Loves. A twinge of sadness creeps into my chest as I read over the engraved words. They were forever loves. Together since they were thirteen years old. You don’t find a connection like that anymore.

  Or maybe you do.

  I was naïve in thinking that Charlie could have been my forever love. I felt something with her I never felt with anyone. Not even Jodi. We had this connection—like our meeting was kismet, for a reason. I guess that reason was for me to fall hard for a girl who is incapable of staying anywhere but in her own head. I should have known, but when it came to Charlie, I couldn’t turn away, no matter how hard I tried. I thought she needed me, but as it turns out, I was purely selfish in not being able to let her go.

  I kick at the wet grass, the raining pelting down, splashing up on my shoe. “Well, Mom, you always loved the snow.” I laugh lightly. I spin the umbrella in my hands. “I don’t really know why I’m here. But I am. Well, I love you and Dad. Miss you both so much. Guess I better get in the heat.”

  I bend down, laying a single, long-stemmed rose in front of their head stone.

  I turn to head back towards my truck when I sense someone else is around. I turn and look, seeing someone curled up about a hundred yards away. I can’t make out the description through the rainfall, but I can hear their faint cries. My curiosity is piqued, so I make my slow walk over, not wanting to disturb whoever is grieving.

  As I get nearer, I see black Chucks, dark skinny jeans, black jacket, and a dark gray hat covering short, blonde, rain-soaked hair. For a moment, I think it’s Charlie, but my eyes must be playing tricks on me. The hair is too short. My heart falls in my chest, and I scold myself for wishing it were her. She obviously wants nothing to do with me. That was made clear the other day when she walked out of the designer’s office.

  The doors were nearly shut when I was able to slip my hand between it, opening them back up. By the time I was able to run out of the building, she was gone. All I wanted to do was talk to her, see if she was okay, but she ran.

  I turn and walk away, but I suddenly feel this pull, like a string tightening with every step I take. I halt when I hear a faint whisper. “I’m so sorry, Phoenix.”

  My entire body stills at the desperate, broken sound of her voice. I spin back around as quickly as I can and see her cradling over the grave. She turns her head ever-so-slightly so that I’m able to see her profile.

  Charlie.

  Her hair is short, cut off just above her shoulders. It fits her, and doesn’t cover up her scar.

  Watching her, broken and bleeding out her heart on this cold, wet ground, crushes me. It doesn’t matter if she walked away after what happened between us. It wouldn’t have mattered if she single-handedly cut my heart out of my chest cavity, which it feels like she did. She needs me. And whether she likes it or not, I’m not leaving her to suffer alone.

  Without thinking, my feet start moving in her direction. With each step, my heart beats harder against my chest. The realization that she’s the reason I’m here slams into me like a truck. “Charlie?” My voice is cracked with nerves and worry.

  It’s as if everything goes in slow motion. She inhales a deep breath right before she turns her head in my direction. Her eyes are masked with smeared makeup and rain, her scar is red and puffy from her spiked emotions. None of it takes away from the sheer and utter beauty that is her.

  I fill the space between us, joining her on the ground. I wrap my arms around her tiny, trembling frame. “I just wanted him to show me everything is going to be okay. I needed to know everything was going to be okay,” she cries into my chest. “Then you showed up.” She looks up at me, tears continuously streaming down her face. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is broken, dripping with heartbreak.

  I place two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “For what?”

  “I ran. I pushed you away. I did what I do best. I closed myself off from you. From everyone.” She wipes underneath her eyes, stray makeup smearing underneath her cheek bone. “I ran, and somehow you still showed up when I needed saving. You always show up. It’s like fate. Fate always brings you to me.”

  I bring my lips down, kissing her forehead. A small part of me wants to get up and walk away, leaving her alone, just like she did me. But, that’s selfishness talking. A much larger part wants to kiss every bit of her heartbreak away. It’s a war between want and need, pride and possibility.

  Charlie wins. She’s always going to win, because even if she doesn’t want me, I damn sure want her.

  “I told you that I’ve got you. I meant that. But I can’t do that if you shut me out again. You can’t run anymore, Charlie. Don’t fight fate.”

  “I don’t know why I came here. I don’t even remember driving.” Her words falter from holding back the tears. “I was at home. Then, I was here.” She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Today is his birthday. He would have been seven.”

  I hug her, not
knowing what to say. There’s no words you can say to a grieving mother that will dampen the flames of pain. No amount of ‘sorry’ will undo what was done to her. She needs someone. She needs me. So that’s exactly what she’s going to get, and I don’t plan on going away. And I damn sure won’t let her walk away again.

  “Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you, Charlie.” I stand up, trying to brush the excess water off of my jeans, then hold my hand out for Charlie to take. She places her tiny, wet hand in mine. We walk hand-in-hand to my truck, leaving behind the cemetery, but not the dark cloud over it. “Come with me. You can get your car later.”

  If you would have asked me months ago if I believed in angels, I would have said no. If you asked me right now if I believed in them, I’d just point to my left.

  I don’t remember the drive over to the cemetery. I don’t remember the walk to Phoenix’s grave. I don’t remember anything but the waterfall of tears I shed as I stooped over his grave. The etched stone felt so cold to the touch. That dash between his birth and death dates hold so many things.

  Love.

  Life.

  Memories.

  I just want the memories that lie in that dash. I want to grab it, open it up, and engrave every second within me so deeply that nothing could wipe it away.

  When Slayter showed up, I was crying, begging, pleading, for a sign that everything would be okay. That I would be okay. Then I heard my name. “Charlie.” I was sure I was hearing things. I couldn’t believe, out of all the cemeteries in this county, all the people filling this city, he was the person who showed up.

  He’s my angel.

  He showed me what it feels like to be completely adored, cherished, and wanted. And I pushed him away. I shut him out after he breathed life into me.

  I’m such a coward. But how should I react once I finally find that ounce of happiness in my life when it’s been nothing but dark and lonely? How am I supposed to react when I told myself to never let anyone else in?