by Erin Noelle
“I never in a million years thought I would I meet someone as perfect for me as Evie was. I still can’t believe that she’s gone. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m just going to play this song.” I had never heard Max sing or play the guitar before; he played the bass and occasionally the keyboard in the band. But he was good, really good. He poured his heart into every word of that song. When he sang the words, “And if you were with me tonight, I’d sing to you just one more time, A song for a heart so big, God wouldn’t let it live,” I almost lost it. I almost broke down in uncontrollable tears. I almost allowed myself to feel all of the pain that was sitting there, waiting to be let into my heart. Almost.
It took every bit of willpower I had to make me move and take Max’s place on the stool once he had finished. I had to sit down because there was no way that my legs were going to hold me up for long.
“As you all know, Evie has been my best friend for . . . well, for forever. There really aren’t words that can do her justice; she was my rock, my everything. I hope everyone is blessed enough to have someone as wonderful as Evie in their lives. Despite how awful I feel in this exact moment, and believe me, I never imagined that I could hurt so Goddamn much, I wouldn’t give a moment back. Not one single moment.” I managed to make it back to the pew next to Evie’s mom without tripping on an imaginary stump or passing out cold. I didn’t hear much more of what was said from that point on. I tuned everything out until I saw everyone stand up and start walking toward the door.
Before the funeral, Evie’s parents had spoken with me privately about how they wanted to handle Evie’s things and the apartment for the rest of the year. They gave me her car, just flat out gave it to me. I tried repeatedly to refuse, but they insisted that they wanted me to have it. There were only a few items from her room that they wanted to take with them, a few photos and pieces of memorabilia. They told me that I could keep whatever I wanted and they would send someone to box up the rest for donations. In addition, they told me that they had prepaid for the housing for the entire school year, and they wanted me to stay. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do about the following semester, but I didn’t want to tell them that then. Finally, and most importantly, they offered their home to me—anytime, no questions.
I would never forget her mom’s words to me, “Scarlett, you are our only daughter now, dear. Our home is your home, whenever you need it or want it. We will continue to take care of you as if you were our own. Evie would want that. We want that.” I nodded and thanked them both. I could not imagine how they could be so selfless and giving at a time when the most precious thing in their life had been tragically ripped away from them. I felt like a selfish bitch because all I could think about was how Evie’s death was going to affect me, how I was going to move on . . . I had given little thought to the utter devastation that her parents must be dealing with.
Evie’s parents left directly from the funeral home to go back home. They hugged me tightly and reminded me that I could call on them at any time for anything. It should’ve been me saying those things to them. I said my goodbyes to everyone before heading back to the apartment; I needed some alone time. Ash and Meg both asked me several times if I was going to be okay by myself. I assured them that I really needed some time to get my thoughts together and I wanted to have at least one evening by myself. They seemed reluctant to let me go, but I promised that I would call or text them at any point if I needed them and someone would come stay with me.
It was a little after 5:00 when I returned to my room; I just sat on the couch in the silence, not really sure what to do. I considered going ahead and cleaning out Evie’s room, but quickly rejected that idea. I was grieving, not a masochist. I thought about reading a book, but I knew that I didn’t have the attention span to focus on anything that required comprehension. I opted to put a movie on. I looked at figures moving around the television, interacting with each other, but I had no clue what was actually going on. I laid down on the couch, still refusing to think about the events of the previous thirty-six hours. My phone alerted me that I had a text message, so I mindlessly crossed the room to retrieve the message.
Mason (5:32PM): I missed you, angel. Want to grab dinner?
I hadn’t even thought much about Mason since I had instructed Max not to tell him about Evie. I wasn’t sure exactly what sure why I didn’t want him to know—maybe because Ash was the one with me, comforting me, or maybe because I just didn’t want to have to talk about with anyone else. Mason and my relationship was fun, easy-going, and heavily-based on physical desire. The thought of allowing him to take me to places where I didn’t have to think about the cruel fucking world that we lived in sounded tempting . . . really tempting, but I decided that it was best if I didn’t see him just yet. I couldn’t just down right ignore his text. He probably would’ve gotten worried and come looking for me. At least I liked to think that he would’ve. I didn’t want to make up a lame excuse either, but I didn’t know what to say.
Me (5:36PM) Can’t tonight. Evie’s parents came in town today
Mason (5:37 PM) Cool. Will call tomorrow
That was the best I could come up with that wasn’t a lie. He seemed to accept my reason for now, but I knew that he would start asking questions if I avoided him for more than a couple of days.
A half hour or so passed and I continued to stare into nothingness. I decided to do some research online about the grieving process. I hoped I would come across something that would perhaps make me feel a little better, or at least reassure me that how and what I was feeling was somewhat normal. As I surfed from site to site, I came across one in particular that caught my interest. The intent of the page was to offer free tools and support for anyone grieving a loss of someone special in their life, it labeled itself “a healing place.” There were pages of inspirational quotes and writings, suggestions of ways to honor the lost loved one, and other ideas and exercises to assist in surviving loss. However, one section of the site was completely devoted to butterflies and their symbolism of transformation, rebirth, and renewal. The butterfly was explained to not only represent the deceased, who in their ultimate transformation changed from their human body to the eternal soul bound for heavenly bliss, but also the bereaved, who struggled to deal with loss and unwelcomed life—altering adjustments.
I continued to read through the some of the material when I came across a quote that really spoke to me. It reminded me of both Evie and myself.
Like the butterfly,
I have the strength and the hope to believe
In time
I will emerge from my cocoon . . .
Transformed.
Kirsti A. Dyer, MD, MS
I read those five lines over and over until an idea crept into my mind, and suddenly, I knew what I needed to do. After a quick Google search of nearby tattoo parlors and directions, I jumped up and went to my room to get dressed and pack an overnight bag. Minutes later, I was out the door.
I pulled into the parking lot of a strip center that was only about ten minutes from campus. I was nervous as hell and making the decision to get a tattoo the day after the most important person in my life died, probably wasn’t the best idea. But I was there and I refused to back out, I needed to do it for so many reasons. The tattoo would not only be to memorialize Evie, but also to remind myself of my hope and faith that fairy tale endings did indeed exist and my own transformation from a sheltered, inexperienced girl to a young woman forced to deal with love, lust, and loss—my own metamorphosis.
A couple of hours later, I was a couple of hundred dollars poorer and my left calf was on fire, but I couldn’t have been happier at the image that stared back at me when I looked at it. I couldn’t wait to get to Ash’s place to show him, I knew he would be shocked to see what I had done. I hoped that he wouldn’t mind that I had used his sketch as the basis of my body art without asking him first. I quickly pushed the thought away, I was sure he’d be flattered that I had loved it so
much. The tattoo artist had done a wonderful job of translating the photo on my phone to the image permanently inked into my skin. I pulled into the driveway, ran up the walkway, and knocked firmly on the door. Meg greeted me with a strange look on her face.
“Scarlett, hi! Are you okay? Did you try to call? Is everything alright?” She looked back over her shoulder down the hall.
“Yeah, I just reconsidered y’all’s offer for company, so I thought I’d come stay here, if that’s okay? My place is a little cramped compared to this house and I really just don’t want to be there.” I walked into the house and noticed that neither Jess nor Ash was in the living room or kitchen.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Meg chewed nervously on her lip. “Jess is at Jacob’s and Ash is in his room.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know that I’m here and put my bag up,” I said as I walked to his closed door. I contemplated whether I should tell him immediately about my new addition or wait and see how long it took him to notice.
“Scarlett, wait . . .” she started to follow me, but it was too late. I opened Ash’s door to find a topless blonde straddling his naked body on his bed.
“Oh my God.” I said as I dropped my bag on the floor. I wasn’t sure if it was my voice or the sound of the small suitcase hitting the hardwood that alerted them to my presence, but as soon as they saw me standing in the door, the blonde dove for an article of clothing and Ash’s horrified eyes locked onto mine. It was a damn good thing for everyone involved that my near comatose state of feeling was still in place and I hadn’t morphed into the anger phase of my grieving yet, otherwise, I may have literally killed someone.
“Scarlett, please, this isn’t what it looks like,” Ash tried to explain as he covered up his body with his comforter. Blondie had rolled off the other side of the bed and was hiding from me on the floor while trying to redress.
“Show me a little fucking respect and don’t feed me that God-forsaken line!” I sputtered. “I’m not one of your stupid whores nor am I your fucking girlfriend, so you don’t owe me an explanation. I just thought that you may give your dick one fucking night off, to mourn the loss of someone who I thought you considered your friend, or at least be there for your other friends while they pay their respects! But obviously I was wrong. At least I know where I rank. It’s probably best that I figure this all out now anyways because I didn’t have very far to fall to feel the rocky bottom under my feet!”
“She just showed up without calling,” he pleaded. “Butterfly, don’t . . .”
“DON’T fucking ‘butterfly’ me! I am NOT falling for that shit again. Because of you I will cringe every time I see a God-damned butterfly again for the rest of my life. You owe an entire species an apology!” I guess I’ll be wearing long pants every day for the rest of my life or until I could afford to get this damn thing removed. I was such a dumb ass. I turned around and grabbed my bag off of the floor. I didn’t even turn around to utter the last words I would ever say to the guy that I loved, “I would have gone to hell and back for you, Ash. Anything. I would have done anything, but instead you broke my psyche.”
I marched past Meg, out of the house and directly into the car. I drove around the block just to get out of sight of the house and I pulled my phone out of my purse. Before I could even think, my fingers had made my decision for me.
Me (9:10 PM): Still want to hang out?
Mason (9:11PM) Yeah, I’ll come pick you up
Me (9:11PM) Not necessary, I’m on my way to your house.
Me (9:11PM) I need you.
Mason (9:12PM) I’m waiting
Me (9:12PM) Wait naked.
Mason wasn’t naked when I arrived at his apartment, not that I really expected him to be, but he did look incredibly sexy in his pajama pants and wife beater when he opened the door. I, on the other hand, was wearing pathetic like it was a designer label. Of course it had started raining on my drive over, so by the time I dashed from the car to his front door, I was a soaked mess. My stringy hair stuck to the sides of my face; my clothes doubled in weight and clung to my shivering body; and I was sure that any remnants of mascara I had on was streaked down my face. As soon as he saw me, he quickly ushered me inside.
“Scarlett, are you okay?” he asked concerned. “Come in here, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up.”
He did not wait for me to answer before pulling me by the hand directly to bathroom and making me strip. I quickly ridded myself of my shirt and pants and my bra was soon to follow. I heard him suck in a breath as I stepped out of my panties, leaving me stark naked in front of him. I stared vehemently into his gray eyes; I wanted him to touch me and to hold me and to kiss me until I was numb. I felt so vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, standing there as Mason’s hungry gaze took in my body like it was the first time he had seen me without clothes. Sensing my need for physical contact, he enveloped me in his arms tight against his body and I exhaled a breath I didn’t even know that I was holding.
“I missed you too, angel,” Mason joked. “Did Evie not keep you warm at night while Max and I were gone?” I flinched when he said Evie’s name; I had forgotten that he didn’t know. The thought of her made me squeeze his neck even tighter.
“I guess that’s a no? Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you and make sure you sleep soundly,” he was still teasing but his voice had dropped an octave into a seductive rumble. “I also see that you have a surprise for me.” His eyes focused on the angry red skin on my outer calf.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I’m a little shocked to be honest. You’ve never told me that you wanted a tattoo. I would’ve gone with you.” He seemed a little disappointed that I didn’t include him.
“I didn’t really know I was getting it until the last minute. It was a rash decision that I’m afraid I’m already regretting,” I said truthfully.
“It looks really fresh. When did you get it done?”
“Today.”
“Well, I like it,” Mason gave me a goofy grin that I couldn’t help but smile back at. “Now you only need twenty or thirty more and you can look like me.”
“I think this is going to be it for me.” It was already one too many.
“I’m assuming there’s a sentimental meaning behind it since it has those names in it? Something you brought in for them to do?”
I just nodded my head. I knew that he wanted me to tell him the story behind it, why I had chosen that particular design, but I decided not to tell him about Evie’s death quite yet. I wasn’t ready to relive the entire event and my brain needed an escape from analyzing the what-ifs and the what-nows that had begun while I sat alone in my living room earlier. Also, I didn’t want his pity. I wanted him to be with me because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he needed to make my hurting feel better, like it was some duty. Not like Ash.
I kissed his neck and deflected the conversation off of any mention of Evie. “I did miss you, smart ass.” I pulled back slightly and smirked. I traced my finger down his jaw line, “Are you ready to show me just how much you missed me?”
He didn’t answer with words. Instead he captured my mouth with his and kissed me with intense passion and fervor. There was no gentle brushing of the lips or timid touching of tongues; it was open mouths, clashing teeth, dueling tongues, and roaming hands. He lifted me up so that I could wrap my legs around his waist and he walked us out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Our mouths never left one another’s.
Mason lowered me onto the bed with my head nestled into the pillows. He hovered over me still completely dressed and I reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. He obliged and I was rewarded with the sight of his impressive upper body. I could never get tired of studying the tattoos that covered him, I loved tracing each one, first with my finger and then with my tongue. I looked down at his pants, they needed to go too. I unknowingly said the last phrase aloud and he shook his head and smiled, “Not
yet. First, I’m going to show you just how much I missed you, angel. Now, put your hands above your head here and grab hold of the headboard. Don’t move your hands, just enjoy me enjoying you.” I didn’t think twice. I lifted my arms above my head and held the wooden slats tightly. I needed this so fucking bad. I needed to forget everything else.
He lowered himself on top of me to where our bodies were pressed against each other, but not to the point where his weight was heavy on me. He started at the place right behind my ear that I knew he loved, and then made his way down my body exploring every square inch of my body with either his hands, his lips, or his tongue. He left behind a wake of fire, his touch searing my skin and leaving a warmth entrenched deep inside me.
Mason traveled all the way down my leg to my foot and then back up again. He was extremely careful around the raised and irritated skin on my leg. When he reached my already slick folds, he didn’t hesitate to extend the treatment to my most private of areas. He utilized all of his weapons of mass pleasure at once—his tongue flicking my clit, his mouth sucking on my lips, and his fingers deep inside my core. It didn’t take him long to bring me to my first orgasm. He knew my body probably as well as he knew his own, and he loved knowing that he could bring me to the edge and then push me over so fast. I sure as hell didn’t mind either. I had heard that many girls didn’t experience regular orgasms either because the guy they were with didn’t care whether or not she came or didn’t know how to bring her there. I guess I lucked out that my sex coach without sex was so experienced, and I often got to experience multiple orgasms in a night, all by the magic he worked with his hands and mouth.