Take Heart

by Smith, Lauren

  Instead of giving her a proper burial, I went with cremation. There wasn’t enough money left over to take care of a casket, a headstone, a burial lot, and funeral costs. Besides, the only people that would’ve shown up to her funeral would’ve been Hadley, Chase, and me. She had no family nearby, and she had alienated all of her friends years ago. I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with any of those people even if I tried.

  I called the bank and told them there was no way I could pay all of her back payments in order to keep the house, so they’re taking it. Hadley and Chase helped me move most of the furniture and my belongings into a storage unit. I left the rest behind. I have no home to go back to anymore. If I can’t make it work here with Raven, I’ll be homeless. Orphaned and homeless—how’s that for a combination? As much as I never wanted to go back, it was comforting to have the option in the back of my mind, just in case.

  Tired of feeling hopeless and dead inside, I throw the covers back and slowly roll out of bed. I walk over to my window and open my blinds for the first time since I got back. The gloomy weather outside completely reflects my current mood. It’s light out, but thankfully the sun is nowhere to be found.

  Grabbing one of my last clean outfits off the floor, I head to the bathroom for my first shower in three days. Believe me, this is an improvement from last week. Everything took a major hit when my mom died—finances, hygiene, appetite, mental health, physical health, relationships with friends, Chase...Chase. Just thinking about him hurts. He’s been calling and texting me non-stop since we got back. I’ve been ignoring everyone to make it all go away. Instead of fixing it, like I should, I’m running to avoid feeling any more guilt.

  I open the door and trudge down the hall towards the bathroom. Raven has finals this week, so she hasn’t been home much. She rarely left the apartment last week. She wanted to be near me in case I needed any support, but other than to pee and force down a little food, I didn’t leave my room. The first night I got back, she hugged me while I sobbed on the couch, but I’ve been isolating myself ever since.

  I walk into the bathroom, toss my clothes onto the floor, and lean over to turn on the shower. Water spurts out and hits my upper arm, making me shiver. Realizing that I forgot a towel, I head back to my room. When I walk in I notice my phone flashing on my nightstand. I pick it up.

  Chase: Are you ever going to talk to me again? I miss you...

  A spasm assaults my chest when I read his message. I scroll through all of the other previous texts he has sent me within the last ten days, and my guilt comes back tenfold. I open up a new message to say something back, but as always, I got nothing. I press the back button and set my phone down. I’ll deal with that later. First, I have to shower and get ready for my first day back at work. My bosses were more than accommodating to give me time off, but now it’s time to start living again.

  One day at a time.

  No...scratch that.

  One hour at a time.

  * * *

  Work sucked.

  It was difficult to focus when everyone kept asking me questions. “Are you okay, Mia?” “How are you holding up?” Then there’s my favorite: “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  No they aren’t. They never even met my mother and they barely know me. I know it’s common courtesy, and they’re just trying to be nice, but that’s exactly my point. Those things are only said out of courtesy. It’s not from the heart. If you don’t mean it, then don’t say it. Simple as that.

  When I walk into the apartment, I’m met with deafening silence. I hate silence when I’m grieving. All it does is make me think about everything that I don’t want to remember. I think about my mom, and what her dead body looked like when she was lying on my bed staring up at me, her eyes vacant. I think about the empty bottle of pills on the nightstand beside her. I think about what an awful daughter I was those last few years. All of the horrible things I said to her; I’d take them back in a heartbeat. Instead of giving her grief, I should’ve given her hugs. Instead of saying she was a worthless mom, I should’ve said “I love you.” Instead of leaving her behind, I should’ve stayed.

  Flashbacks from my childhood begin to play through my head like an old movie reel. Happy ones—where she, my dad, and I were a family. Memories where we were at the park for a family picnic and she would push me on the swings as high as I could go. Memories where she held me tight and told me how much she loved me before she tucked me in at night. I remember the delicious smell of hot chocolate in the wintertime. When my dad and I got home from sledding, she’d have two steaming cups waiting for us. She’d always put marshmallows in mine because she knew how much I loved that. Then my dad would try to steal them out of my cup when she wasn’t looking, only to end up pulling out the bag and giving me double the amount I initially had. It’s the simple things, you know? Those are what I miss the most.

  Looking back, I realize what an amazing mom she really was. She had more than her fair share of flaws, but I do believe, deep down, she loved me...even at her worst. I’d like to think that she always loved my dad, even after they split, and that’s why she could never get her life together—because she just couldn’t bear to live without him. I hope they are both happy somewhere together and madly in love like they used to be. In all those years, neither one of them ever remarried—there’s got to be a reason for that.

  Thinking about my parents when they were at their best soothes my soul and brings me a sliver of inner peace. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a beacon of light during a dark and tumultuous time, and I’ll gladly take it.

  I remove my shoes and head to my bedroom so I can change out of my uniform, crawl into bed, and collapse. I’ve done my big thing for the day, and there’s nothing left to give. Not to get all “poor me” about this, but I think I deserve a pat on the back for getting out of the apartment. When I open my bedroom door, my eyes collide with another set—these ones are blue. I let out a scream and jump back in surprise. My hand flies up to my chest to steady my heart.

  “Easy there, Strawberry.”

  “Jesus, Eric. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Come, come,” he pats a seat on the bed next to him.

  “What’s this about?” For some reason, I feel like I’m walking into the principal's office.

  “I think you already know what this is about.”

  Could he be any more melodramatic?

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and toss it onto the bed. I remove my apron and nametag. Eric picks the phone up and waves it in front of me.

  “Well, well, lookie here,” he says. “So you do have a phone.”

  I roll my eyes and strut over to the bed. I take a seat next to him, and relish in how good it feels to be off my feet after an eight-hour shift. I make a move to steal my phone back, but he extends his arm out to the side, holding it out of my reach.

  “Give it back, Eric,” I snap.

  “No,” he says defiantly. “Not until you give me a good reason as to why you’re ignoring me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I feign ignorance.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Mia. Leave that to the real stupid chicks out there because there’re plenty of them to go around.”

  “You would know.”

  He narrows his eyes and his lips pull into a thin line. “I’m going to assume you aren’t referring to your best friend when you say that.”

  “Of course I’m not!” Feeling irritated with his close proximity, I stand up and move over by the door. “Once again, Eric, what do you want?” I’m impatient and I was over this conversation before it started.

  “I told you what I want. Now fucking answer me. Why have you been hiding out and ignoring everyone?”

  “What do you want me to say? You want me to say I’m sorry? You want me to tell you that I’m A-okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I don’t give a damn if we sit here and talk about the fucking weather, but for the love of God, say somethin
g!” he shouts.

  “Fuck you!” I shout back and give him the finger to boot. It feels good to yell. I’ve been bottled up for days. “You’re such an asshole! I didn’t ask you to waltz in here and invade my personal space. Quit trying to get me to talk about it. I’ll talk about it when I’m damn well ready,” I say, resentful.

  He shakes his head. “Nope, that doesn’t work for me. I’ve given you plenty of space and time, and I’m not leaving until you talk.”

  “Yes, you are,” I guarantee, extending my arm and pointing towards the door, letting him know it’s time for him to go.

  “Fuck that. You’ve shut me out long enough. I’m not letting you kick me out of here just because you’d rather bury your head in the sand instead of facing how you really feel.”

  “You’ve got to be joking?”

  “Nope, I’m serious. Dead serious...no pun intended,” he says, expressionless.

  We stare at each other for a long moment, neither one of us willing to back down. We take turns blinking, somewhat mystified. When we can’t hold it in any longer, we both burst out laughing. It starts out as a fit of giggles and quickly escalates into full-on guffaws. It’s wonderful, cathartic laughter. Eric folds over onto his side and grips his stomach, trying to control himself. I back up against the wall and slide down to the floor with tears in my eyes.

  We laugh until our stomachs hurt, and I feel the urge to piss my pants. Once we’ve calmed down, I look up to find him lying on his back, staring at my ceiling. He tilts his head in my direction and gives me one of the most endearing smiles that I’ve ever seen. It would make any woman swoon. He rolls off the bed and crawls down onto the floor by my side. Bringing his arm up over my head, he settles it around my shoulders. I lean my head against his chest and just let him hold me for a minute.

  “In the strangest way, I knew it was coming.” I whisper softly. “I mean, I was shocked to walk into my room and find her like that, but somewhere deep down in my gut, I knew something wasn’t right. I felt it before I even walked in the house.”

  “Was there a funeral service?”

  “There wasn’t enough money.”

  “What about Chase?”

  “What about him?” I don’t want to acknowledge how I really feel about all that.

  “Have y’all talked?”

  “No. He’s been trying to get a hold of me, but I haven’t responded,” I say, feeling guilty.

  “You should do that. He loves you, you know. He came over to my place last week to talk about everything. You’ve really got him by the balls. The guy just isn’t right without you. Take it from me, locking down a guy like Chase is hard to do. It takes a pretty special woman to make him want to forfeit everything for a chance to be with you. I know he’ll treat you right, but you gotta treat him right, too. And this whole ignoring him thing—that isn’t right and you know it.”

  I felt guilty before, but now I feel absolutely horrible. I was so concerned early on about whether or not he’d hurt me, it never crossed my mind that I might be the one to end up hurting him. From the moment he sat down on Eric’s couch and annoyed the hell out of me, Chase has given me everything he has. He’s never held anything back and he’s made me far happier than I ever thought I could be.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Eric asks after a long moment.

  I let out a deep breath. “I think so. At first, I thought I’d never survive it, but it’s slowly becoming a little more bearable. I have my ups and downs.”

  “Why didn’t you come to us for support? You know we would’ve been there for you—that we have been here for you.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t, Eric. I couldn’t even function. I’m dealing the only way I know how,” I explain.

  “Well, your version of dealing with life changing events completely blows,” he teases. “We’re going to have to work on that. Fortunately for you, I think you’re about out of those, because short of losing a friend, you’ve got no one left to lose. Welcome to the club,” he half jokes. I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but he can’t mask the pain and regret in his voice.

  He’s right; I don’t have much left to lose. I’ve lost my mom, my dad, my house, my sanity, and possibly my boyfriend. I’ve sacrificed everything. I dropped out of school, gave up my life, and took on the stress of taking care of my mom—just to have her commit suicide in the end. It was all for nothing. I wasted years of my life that I’ll never get back, and for what? To watch it all come crashing down? The thought makes me giggle. It’s not supposed to be funny, but it is. Sometimes things get so awful in life that all you can do is laugh.

  I tilt my head up to catch a glimpse of Eric’s handsome face. “Thank you, Eric. Thank you for everything,” I say sincerely. He’s done more for me in ten minutes than I’ve done for myself in ten days.

  “No problem, Strawberry. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time to come out of hiding, don’t you agree?” He looks down at me and smiles.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I mutter petulantly.

  He laughs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He stands up, turns to face me, offers his hand. I reach up and take it. His fingers curl around mine and he pulls me up.

  As I’m walking him to the front door, he turns and says, “I know it’s not even Christmas yet, but don’t make any plans for New Year’s Eve, okay?”

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  “I’m having another party and your appearance is mandatory. You owe me that after what you’ve put me through these last couple weeks.”

  “What I’ve put you through? What about what I’ve had to go through?”

  “Whatever. There you go, making it all about you again,” He opens the door and pulls me into a tight hug. He lays a kiss on top of my head and pulls away. “Tell Raven I’m coming for her sexy ass later when she gets off work,” he says, his face serious.

  “Will do,” I assure him.

  “Later, Strawberry,” he grins and closes the door on his way out.

  When the door shuts, I’m left with another round of silence. Only this time, I don’t feel quite so alone.

  TWENTY-ONE

  c h a s e

  If you’re wondering what’s been helping me get by lately, the answer is work. Since Christmas is right around the corner, I’m far busier than usual—and I’m a pretty busy guy to begin with. But instead of being all in like I normally am, I’ve been going through the motions. We have a large order for a dining set, so, Jim (my dad’s longtime friend and co-worker) and I have been focusing on that today. He knew right away that something was off, but instead of grilling me about it, he just kept to himself. That’s one of the many reasons why I enjoy working with him.

  I’ve never made a habit of bringing my personal problems to work, but it’s taken more than I’d like to admit to keep my mind off Mia. I still haven’t heard from her, and given up on trying. I don’t even know where we stand anymore. I’m preparing one final gesture to get her to come around, and if I don’t hear from her, I’m throwing in the towel. This is the last-ditch effort. There’s only so much I can do. I can’t make her want this relationship as much as I do and I can’t force her to talk to me when she clearly isn’t ready.

  I’ve just finished staining some dining chairs when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I take my gloves off and fish it out of my jeans. I eagerly check the screen, desperately hoping to see Mia’s name. No such luck. I swipe my finger across and answer the call.

  “Hey, Christa,” I greet.

  “Hey, stranger. How have you been?”

  “Pretty good,” I lie. “Just been busy working. What about you?”

  “Oh, same old. Rachel is finally moving out, so I’m on the hunt for a new roommate. It’s long overdue, that bitch’s departure. I’m going to do some shopping today to celebrate,” she says giddily.

  “You’re terrible.” I don’t even try to sound like I’m joking when I say that. She’s never gotten along with Rachel, but then again, Chri
sta has trouble getting along with most women.

  “I know I am,” she says. “So, how are you and Mia doing?” There’s no hostility in her voice, just pure curiosity.

  “We’ve been better,” I admit. “Mia lost her mom a couple weeks ago and it’s been putting some strain on our relationship.”

  “Oh, no, what happened?”

  “We don’t really know yet,” I lie again. I’m not sure if Mia wants people knowing what Nancy’s cause of death was. And since her and Christa didn’t get off to the best start, I don’t want to share that information without her consent. We may not be talking at the moment, but I still love the girl more than anything, and I want to respect her privacy.

  “That’s too bad. I hope you guys can work it out. Please tell her I’m sorry for her loss,” she says sincerely.

  “Thank you, Christa. I will.”

  If only I could….

  “Well, the real reason why I’m calling is to check and see if you’re going to Eric’s New Year’s Eve party.”

  “Yeah, I’m planning on it,” I say cautiously.

  “Me too. I think it will be good for both of us to see each other again and talk some things out. I miss you.”

  A feeling of unease travels through me. I’m not sure Mia would be on board with Christa and I spending time together at the party, but what can I do? It’s not like I can just call up my own girlfriend and talk to her about it. And I can’t tell Christa not to go to the party because Eric obviously invited her. I could stay home and not go myself, but I’m not going to do that. I need the distraction right now.

  “I guess I’ll see you there then,” I say, slightly uncomfortable. “But hey, I really need to get back to work.”

  “Sounds good,” she says. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

  “Yep, talk to you later.” I press my thumb on the screen to end the call and slide my phone back into my pocket.

  I know I’m not doing anything inappropriate, but this feels wrong. I feel like I’m going behind Mia’s back. The thought makes me feel uneasy. I don’t spend too much time dwelling on it, though. If she has an issue, she can pick up the damn phone and call me back for once.