Ashes and Ice

by Rochelle Maya Callen

  She taps my chin. “I know there is somethin’ different about you.”

  I gulp down a dry lump in my throat.

  “I can’t say what it is and I doubt you’ll tell me, but I know you are holding onto too much on your own. Too much for any young girl to carry.” She smiles, “I also know that I see bits of you falling into place. That Devereaux boy… he makes you smile.”

  I look at our hands and hope she can’t see my face flush in the dark. “Yes, Nanan. He makes me smile. He makes me feel less… empty.”

  Nanan nods. “That’s all you need, cher. A few people in your life who fill it up and give you good memories to hold onto.”

  Nanan leans her forehead against mine. “No more sufferin’ in the dark, cher. Few people will find you in the dark.”

  But she did. She found me and holds me in the dark and she gives me just a small sliver of hope that maybe this wicked cold will not win, that the emptiness will not eat me up. Maybe, that’s why this dark isn’t blinding me, because she offers me just a glimmer of light to see.

  Chapter 36

  Connor

  It felt so right holding Jade in the truck. She fit perfectly under my arm, pressed against my side. She held onto me. I don’t know if I ever felt that before. Someone leaning on me, needing me.

  There was such a fierce desperation in her eyes, a fear smudging her self-assured sharp lines into something so breakable. She was terrified of the water, unlike anything I had seen before. A phobia? It was a strange one. What could have made her so scared of the water?

  I put the coffee pot on and stare absentmindedly at the black coffee dripping into the pot.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Mom says, walking into the kitchen. She shuffles into the room, hair in an unruly knot, sleep still tugging on her eyelids, but she is smiling at me. Mom. Why did she never need me? In those first couple months after Dad died, she would cry softly in her room, but every morning she would come out with a whisper of a smile on her face for me. She never put the weight of her pain on me, because she knew I had my own weight to bear.

  Or maybe I shut her out? Shut my door? Gave her one-word answers and blank expressions? Did she need me and I just didn’t see because I didn’t want to see? Everybody should have at least one person to lean on and yet there she stands at the counter squinting against the light streaming in through the window.

  She looks over at me, “You all right?” She suddenly seems self-conscious and pats down her curls. “I look like Medusa, don’t I?” She smiles.

  I shake my head. Walking over to her, I take her hand and squeeze it. “Dad was right. It looks best this way.”

  She stiffens, surprised. For a moment, I think her eyes are shinier, and then she blinks quickly and swallows. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it and nods. “Your father always knew best.”

  “I—I’m sorry Mom.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being there for you.”

  She shakes her head slowly, little crinkles forming at the corners of her eyes as she looks at me. “Oh, Connor. You were here. So, you’ve been exactly where I needed you.”

  Boisterous laughter rumbles in from the front door, effectively shattering our quiet moment. She pulls away and grabs a pot from the cabinet. “You boys could wake the dead with your hollerin’.”

  “Well, that there is the point!” Jesse says as he slumps into a chair. Harry comes over and plants a kiss on Mom’s cheek and Wade, well, I don’t know where Wade is, which surprises me because it feels off to not see my uncles in a group together.

  Mom notices too. “Hey, boys, where is Wade?”

  Harry takes a deep breath. “Poor boy found out a young lady he was sweet on in the city got killed last night. He’s at home drowning himself in some Ezra Brooks.”

  “Oh, my gosh! What girl? What happened?” Mom’s eyes pitch upward in concern.

  Jesse shakes his head. “Don’t know the girl’s name. Doubt Wade does either. She was just a waitress at the Café Roux he liked to look at when we were in town. You know that boy, for all his talk, never actually went to say hello to her.”

  “Wait, in the city? Café Roux?”

  “Yeah, it’s all over the news. Apparently that Etcher got to her.” Harry shudders.

  “I was just there yesterday. Jade and I were in the city.” I flick on the TV. Sure enough, the news is talking about the horrific crime and labeling the woman the fourth victim of the Etcher.

  The girl’s face pops up on the screen. I don’t remember seeing her, but that didn’t mean much. My eyes were focused on Jade. “I can’t believe it. Jade and I were in front of that restaurant yesterday. She may have been there.” My thoughts change course. “How is Wade holding up?”

  Jesse shrugs. “He’s in a bad way I think. Barely talked all morning so you know somethin’ is wrong. That man can barely press past 45 seconds before opening his trap.”

  Yeah, Wade is not doing well at all then. I am out the door before the coffee pot even beeps.

  ***

  “Hey Wade?”

  There is a short silence. “What you want, boy?”

  “Jesse and Harry told us… you know, about your friend from the restaurant.”

  Wade appears in the doorway to the living room. He’s sluggish, obviously drunk. “Nah, she wasn’t my friend.” He says quietly. “Just some pretty thing to look at.” He takes another swig from the liquor bottle.

  I stare at him. I know Wade drinks, but this is different. He seems thinner or smaller somehow leaning up against the doorframe. I can tell he liked that girl.

  “Either way, I’m sorry.” I take a step toward him and he raises a hand to tell me to stay put.

  “Don’t be sorry.” He sighs. “I should be sorry. I—I never even went in there to say hello. Never even ate at the restaurant. It’s ridiculous. Just some kid-like crush thing, but—but it’s a shame that somethin’ so fine needed to go like that, ya’ know? Not right. Not right at all.”

  Wade speaking seriously makes me feel uncomfortable, as if the world flip-flops. Pitched forward to a point where Wade Devereaux isn’t untouchable and worry-free. His face doesn’t look right without a smile. But what can I say when a person I care about loses someone—not a friend, or a lover, or a family member, but just someone…someone who was important even if they occupied very little space in their life at all.

  It twists my thoughts back to me. Dad is gone, he occupies none of my life now, but somehow he occupies all of it. How could someone dead, gone, and invisible do that?

  Wade’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Huh?”

  Even with the liquor drooping his eyelids, his gaze is steady on me. “You like that Jade girl, don’t you.”

  “I—no—I—mean it’s not like that.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself boy. Wasting time is a stupid thing to do in this big ol’ ugly world.”

  I shift with uncomfortable understanding. Wade waited too long to talk to the waitress and now she was gone.

  Jade comes to mind then, crippled, desperate and terrified on the water. She shouldn’t have to live that way. Afraid. I remember being afraid of the water, afraid of drowning. I remember being seven years old, convinced there were sharks in the deep end of the pool. Or that somehow the lake where my friends swam would suck me down to the bottom. It wasn’t until my dad took me by the hand and led me into the water that I stepped in unafraid. Because I had someone to keep me from drowning, someone to hold me above the water in case it threatened to swallow me up. I remember the sun and the sky, the trees, and the feeling of not being afraid anymore. I had forgotten about that memory. It’s liberating to not feel afraid, paralyzed with fear. And I want Jade to feel this freedom.

  Chapter 37

  Jade

  “I used to come here all the time with my Dad.” Connor holds my hand as he steps over logs and battered limbs in the woods. I hear the water swooshing ahead. I squeeze his hand tighter, because I am not sure I want to go where h
e is taking me. The moment I squeeze his hand, he stops abruptly and waits for me to fall in line beside him. I smile. He must think I need him for support through this “wilderness”. I want to laugh, but swallow it.

  Before I know it, we are there. Set against a backdrop of trees, the lake’s crystalline water twinkles with the sun dancing on the small crests of ripples. Lovely, but terrifying. I pull backward slightly, distancing myself from the lake. It would be too easy to fall in, too easy to be lost there.

  Connor lets go of my hand and walks to the shoreline. He looks left to right taking in the lake like a panoramic masterpiece. “It is beautiful here,” I say, because as scared as I am, it is beautiful.

  He jerks his head toward me as if he’s forgotten I am here. Longing lingers in his eyes. He gazes at the water as if he is searching and misses something — something in those clear ripples that appear and just as quickly vanish…lost forever.

  “Yeah, it is.” He smiles—a strange nostalgia almost hidden in the sweetness of his expression. He starts tugging at his shirt and pulls it over his head.

  I inhale. Golden and fine, muscles edge his entire body. No baggy shirt disguises the width and strength of his shoulders or the curve of his torso. He glistens with Louisianan heat. He looks like someone entirely new.

  “Do you want to swim?” He extends his arm toward me, his brow furrowed in question.

  “Uh, no thanks.” My body goes rigid. I won’t go in, not ever.

  “Oh c’mon.” He trudges through the water, then dives in. His laughter is faint, muffled by the sound of splashing. The whooshing sound invades my ears. Connor motions me in, but all I see is the water. Darkness undulates below. My muscles ache as if bracing for the thrashing, my throat closes for the drowning, my body freezes, afraid of the falling, sinking, dying.

  Part of me knows the irrationality of it all, but more of me is so scared that, for the first time, I want to run away—away from Connor and his warmth, and his world and back to the Redwoods that were so lonely and safe. Connor edges forward. He grasps both my hands and slowly steps back, pulling me along. “My dad used to bring me here when I was little. I was terrified of swimming. I couldn’t even float. But he kept me safe. I’m going to keep you safe, Jade. Always. Just look at me. Don’t look anywhere else.”

  The water laps at my ankles. It feels fresh and alive against the heat seeping into me. But I don’t trust it. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.” I pull back.

  “Jade, don’t worry. I won’t let you go.”

  We ease into the water. Connor’s arm wraps around my shoulders and steadies my way as I begin to stumble into the water, almost fighting it from immersing me any further.

  “You are doing great, Jade.” He says. “It’s okay.”

  I hold onto him, knowing my nails are probably digging into his skin. But I can’t relax, can’t let go.

  The water swirls around me, soaking everything from my chest down, making me feel heavier.

  He stops.

  He slowly lifts me up.

  I inhale sharply. “No…”

  “Shhh… don’t worry.” He lifts me up so that both of his arms wrap completely around me and I tuck into his chest like a child.

  My head jerks in tiny, involuntary jolts. The water tugs at me, trying to pull me under, trying to take me away. “Please take me back…” My throat tightens; my chest begins to spasm….

  “Jade, just close your eyes.” Connor says into my ear. His breath is hot against my face. “Just close your eyes.”

  I do. I gasp, feeling the wetness all around me. The images fill my head—the gasping, thrashing fear, the one…two…three… blinding lights, the blurriness. I bury my head into the nook of Connor’s neck.

  I feel it before I hear it.

  Soft, melodic humming. The most soothing sound, blending into the faint sound of wind and water. Connor’s warm sound fills me, vibrating against my face.

  He carries me deeper into the lake, humming all the way. The sound edges out the images flitting around my head. I notice how cool and fresh the water feels, how soothing, how calming the ripples sound behind Connor’s voice.

  Holding me tighter, he guides us deeper into the water. It feels like the world sways underneath me, dancing without gravity, arms lifting me so I can glide above it, within it. I tilt my head back, relaxing, letting my arms release Connor and extending them back, feeling the cool water down the length of my arms and between my fingertips.

  I breathe in, weightless and free.

  I open my eyes. Water and sky. For the first time, I only see it as beautiful.

  An ache so unfamiliar and sweet swells within me, shattering pieces of me, making some of the cold and the film wash away. Puncture wounds bleed, seep out into the into the water, into the swamp, into the earth and away as I feel a warmth soothe me with its lullaby. I know it is the darkness bleeding out, and the light seeping in. I know this is what hope feels like.

  ***

  Everyday, I sit on a dock hanging into Lake Pontchartrain staring into its depths. I whisper, “You won’t take me. I am not scared of you now.” I watch the sun set and twinkle yellow on the water. Every day I take off my shoes and dip my feet into the cold water. A surge of anxiety throbs for a moment until I realize I am not gasping for breath, not dragged below the surface. Despite my growing courage, whenever the water laps a bit higher, or a fish or piece of trash or anything grazes my feet, I lift them out and let them drip dry on the dock. That is okay though… I will get there, get where I can laugh and giggle and dive into the water headfirst. For now, this is enough.

  It’s been a week since we tried to go to Alathea’s shop. At first, the waitress’s death scared me. I couldn’t go back, not yet. But then, there weren’t voices, visions, or cold. I was just a normal girl spending my days with a friend, my best friend, and my nights with either a noisy bunch of men and a sweet woman or my quiet, solid Nanan who I felt could uncover my every secret and still care about me. I like pretending, but every day when I come to this dock, I remember what lies on the other side of this expanse of water. Answers. I’ll have to wait until next Wednesday to go. That gives me a few more days to close my eyes and pretend. I am Jade Smith, a troubled girl with a troubled past with a best friend and an old woman who cares for her. I smile at that.

  The sun dips lower casting the sky in oranges and pinks. It is Saturday. It’s Saturday. Saturday? I jump up and realize that I am running late. I need to be at Connor’s getting ready for the Prom in fifteen minutes. I start running to Connor’s. Prom. Yes, for at least one more night, I will be normal.

  ***

  Desi is busy pinning up my hair and applying my makeup. Her smile is brighter than ever. “You have no idea how fun this is for me, I mean, I’m around these dirty boys all the time.” She goes to her closet and pulls out a dress. I stare at the intricate beading, the soft white fabric. The way the back and waist are exposed and bordered with what look to be tiny crystals. “Oh, my gosh! That is beautiful!” I trail my fingers over the soft fabric. “Oh, Desi. I can’t wear this.”

  “Yes, you can. And you will. This dress is very special to me and I would want a lady as special as you to wear it. I think it’s just your size.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but she just shakes her head and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Please, for me. It would mean so much to me.”

  I look at the beautiful lines and curves of the dress. “Okay. Thank you, thank you so much.”

  Desi pulls out an elaborate hairpin, dripping with little crystals and woven with flowers. “My husband gave me this on our first anniversary.” She tucks the beautiful ornament into my hair and blinks back the glimmer in her eyes. And with a warm smile, she kisses my cheek, and whispers “Perfect” into my ear.

  Chapter 38

  Connor

  Jesse and Wade whoop and holler when I come downstairs in my tux. “Oh, my god, boy! You look ridiculous! Like a penguin!”

  “Haha, very funny.”<
br />
  They both roll with laughter while I shake my head. How was I ever able to remain a sane person with these two around?

  The smile drops off Jesse’s face, his eyes growing wider as he stares past me toward the stairs.

  “All right, ya’ll. Take a look at our very own heavenly angel.” Mom says from behind me.

  I turn, see her, and freeze. Something falls deep inside me, shifting everything else out of place. And while I’ve seen Jade hundreds of times by now, it’s like I am seeing her for the first time, but… not. When I first saw her, I was giddy with excitement because she was something strange and beautiful and new. Now she is Jade, and the bubbly feeling that I have when I see her now is weighted with something more solid.

  Jade’s hair is swept up in a tumble of soft waves. The dazzling white dress twinkles with sequins, hugs the curves of her body, and leaves the skin on the sides of her waist exposed. I have a sudden urge to run my fingers down those small spaces of naked skin. I gulp the feeling down, ashamed by it. My eyes drift up and I look into her green eyes staring back at me.

  And it is that precise moment, that overpowering split second, a thousand images flash and mingle together in my head. The first time I saw her. The way she winked at me on the track on the first day we spoke. The nerve-racking, incredible feeling of being close to her. Her jabbing fingers in my back demanding me to stand tall. Her far-off gazes when I know she’s not listening. How she clung to me in the quarry, in the water. The way she slammed Courtney into the cafeteria table. The crook of her eyebrow when she’s suspicious. The crinkle of her nose when she doesn’t understand. Her eight types of smiles I recognize instantly and know exactly what they mean—all so real, so brilliant, so rich. The scent of her. But above all else, it’s the feeling of being happy and whole that rocks me. I suddenly realize I’ve never felt stronger or more alive in my life. And now, looking up at her, her eyes touched by the most subtle vulnerability, I know: