The Weakness in Me

by Josie Leigh

  Even though she longed for the comfort her bedroom would provide, including the window seat that overlooked the lake at the edge of the property, she dreaded the flood of memories she knew were eminent. She hoped that the smell of him hadn’t dissipated from his pillow, but after two months, she was sure it had. Knowing her and Caleb’s families, they’d gone through the house and cleaned out anything that might make her stumble, but she knew it might be worse…to see the house they’d shared scrubbed of him, but not. His clothes and aftershave might be gone, but the tan soft leather couch where they sat to drink tea and relax by the fire at the end of the night was still there. His shoes would be gone, but their wedding picture would still hang in the hallway. She’d have to gaze at him in his black suit and teal vest every time she walked to the kitchen and remember the hope and promise that day held for both of them.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed out of Sara’s car and opened the door to the back seat to retrieve Corigan.

  “Ready to be home, baby girl?” she asked, plastering a fake happy smile on her face for her daughter.

  “Why don’t you put Corigan down in her room for a nap, Sam, and I’ll grab the bags,” Sara offered.

  “I can help, you know?” Samantha said.

  “No, you are still recovering and shouldn’t be lifting. Your therapist said Corigan only for another two months,” Sara chastised. “And even that should be limited to when you absolutely have to; I’m only letting you do it now because I know you want to settle her in yourself.”

  “Ugh, when did you become the older sister, Sara? This is ridiculous,” she said, pulling Corigan closer to her like a security blanket as her eyes took in the familiarity of her house. It was two stories, but from the street looked to be only one story, as the home was built on a slight hill. For being gone for two months, the lawn looked lush and well manicured, which was puzzling, since they didn’t- she, she didn’t have a gardener.

  “Just gotta make sure you are doing what you need to, so you heal faster,” Sara said, frowning at her unintentional double meaning.

  “Who’s been taking care of the lawn?” she asked, dismissively, opening the gate and taking the stone walkway from the driveway to the front door.

  “Actually…,” Sara started, nervously, “um, Jason’s been helping maintain the place…” she trailed off.

  “Jason?! Why?!” Samantha spun around quickly, clutching Corigan, who was so far into her nap, that her mother’s screeching didn’t even stir her.

  “Samantha, go put Corigan in her crib before you hurt yourself. We can discuss this when I get your bags inside,” her sister answered, effectively writing her off. She growled and headed back toward the front door, grateful to wear her anger enough that she didn’t notice passing everything she was afraid of on her way through the house to the hardwood stairs leading down to Corigan’s nursery. After laying her daughter in her crib and turning on her monitor, she marched back to the front door, stopping cold in the hallway when she saw Jason following Sara with the rest of her bags. He looked the same as he always had, a solid six feet, platinum blonde hair, sympathetic cerulean blue eyes, but different at the same time. He looked like a man now, his body was solid and his features were more defined and less round.

  “Hey, Sara said you’d be home today, I’m glad I got here in time to help,” he said, offering up his famous impish smile that made his eyes glitter like the sun reflecting off the ocean, the smile that used to make her melt. Anger started to course through her veins at his presumptiveness, but even she had to admit, it was nice to come home to a well manicured lawn instead of a jungle.

  “Right,” she nodded, curtly. She decided now wasn’t the time for a showdown and turned toward her bedroom, “I’m gonna go lay down for awhile,” she said over her shoulder as she closed her bedroom door, before throwing herself onto the large queen sized bed she’d shared with Caleb. ‘Did they have to change the bedding, too?’ she thought to herself as she looked around the now remodeled room. The once blue walls were now a pale green to match the comforter now on her bed. The pale oak on the four-poster was even more subdued by the new color palette. Instead of a dreaded flood of memories, she only found comfort in the bed she shared with Caleb. For the first time in months, she was able to drift to sleep easily, even though the new white curtains did nothing to block the afternoon sun from streaming through her windows facing the lake and her deck.

  **

  “What was that?” Jason asked Sara, turning from the door to Samantha’s bedroom.

  “She’s just tired,” Sara reasoned. “She’s not been sleeping well at my house, and I know she’s been dreading today.” Sara lifted a bag and moved it across the living room to rest beside the light stone fireplace.

  The pale hardwood of the floors seemed to reflect the late summer sun and made them look as if they were glowing. Jason had focused on the outside of the house, mostly, and let her family and Caleb’s take care of the inside. Everything in this house screamed Sammy, from the hardwood floors, to the crown molding and vaulted ceiling. Even though the exterior of the house did not reflect it, the interior reminded Jason of a log cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was definitely the sanctuary Sammy had dreamed of as a girl, all the way down to the pier on the lake bordering the back of the property.

  Jason looked at the wall of family pictures that led down the small hallway from the living room to the kitchen on the other side of the fireplace and contemplated his next words, but not knowing exactly how to say what he felt in this situation.

  “I expected a fight, actually. I can’t imagine having to face the memories this house must hold. It was hard enough to stay in our apartment after-,” he stopped short and changed direction. “But she didn’t die, I mean…there’s no real comparison…I wasn’t trying…,” he trailed off awkwardly, not believing he was trying to compare the death of her husband to their explosive break up. Whatever he thought he might or should say that was definitely not it.

  “I know,” Sara smiled at Jason, sadly. “I’m sure you mourned the end of your relationship, but you are right, there is no comparison for this. I have no idea what she’s going through, so I have no idea how to help her,” Sara looked lost as her dull green eyes filled with tears. “She’s my sister and I don’t know how to take this pain away for her.”

  “It’s not up to you to heal this for her, she has to get there on her own,” Jason’s said, comfortingly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m just glad you finally let me explain what happened.”

  “Are you going to tell Samantha the truth?” Sara’s eyes looked at him, sharply.

  “Not yet, but eventually. I don’t think she’ll want to listen to it now anyway. Plus, it seems like a really inappropriate time to bring it up, you know? Besides, there’s nothing to change it now…and, if it hadn’t happened, she might have never met Caleb,” Jason rambled, trying to explain his thoughts. “And I might not have seen how bad my drinking had gotten. It worked out, kind of,” he continued, “so no hard feelings.”

  “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been such a help these past couple of months,” Sara said, moving into the kitchen, Jason following behind her. “I’m going to see what she has in the pantry for lunch. Do you mind if I put together a shopping list for you to pick up for her? I’ll hang out here while Corigan sleeps so Sam can get all the rest she needs.”

  “Not at all, that’s what I’m here for,” Jason offered, his eyes drifting toward Samantha’s bedroom door again, sending out a silent prayer that she’d be okay and she’d let him be there for her.

  **

  “Where are we going?” Samantha straightened her necklace and moved to step into her cream colored kitten heels.

  “It’s a surprise,” Caleb’s hazel eyes glittered with excitement as he expertly knotted his deep red silk tie.

  “Honey, you didn’t have to do anything special, you know I’d be happy watching a movie
on the couch with Chinese take out tonight,” she flashed him her most breathtaking smile as she smoothed his tie against his white tailored shirt.

  “I know, honey, but you deserve so much more! Three years is a big deal, hell, every day with you is more amazing than the one before. I want to give you that, too,” his hand softly caressed her cheek and she tilted her head into it, staring at the love she could see in his eyes. Samantha craved these close moments with Caleb, but he broke first, “We need to head out if we’re going to make our reservation.”

  “Reservation? Honey, it’s not our wedding anniversary, why are you going all out for this?” she asked, grabbing her purse from the dresser.

  “It’s not every day you lock eyes with the most beautiful girl in the room,” Caleb started, “I just thought it was appropriate to mark that occasion again. I can’t believe that I got you to become my wife less than six months later,” he laughed, his hazel eyes shining with happiness.

  “You spoil me way too much. I would’ve married you sooner if you hadn’t insisted on a Christmas wedding,” Samantha smiled up at him again as they walked toward their car.

  “I couldn’t imagine a better Christmas gift than having you as my wife,” he said, opening the door to their new Honda Accord and helping her in…

  Samantha body jolted awake, her body covered in a light layer of sweat and her breathing heavy. The dream hadn’t been unpleasant, but Samantha was wracked with sobs, giant tears cascaded down her face.

  “Sammy, are you okay?” she heard Jason asking from the other side of the door.

  “I’m fine. Leave me alone,” she choked out, trying, but failing to sound like she wasn’t in a full-fledged attack of grief. Not bothering to care that he’d just called her Sammy, because to be honest, she hadn’t appreciated how comforting those two syllables could sound to her panicked ears.

  “Bullshit,” he called. “Can I come in?” the concern in his voice was evident, as was his determination.

  “Fine! Come on in, Jason,” she called, reluctantly. She knew he wouldn’t leave her alone until he laid eyes on her to verify that she was only crying and not physically injured. The door opened slowly, but as soon as he observed her state, he ran to the bed and pulled her into his arms. She started to fight the embrace, but then, his fingers began to massage the back of her head, which was a move he knew would cause her to relax involuntarily. Inwardly cursing he really did seem to still know and understand exactly what she needed. The idea gave her more comfort than she thought possible in the situation, so she gave in and let him hold her as she continued to cry loudly and inconsolably, soaking the front of his t-shirt.

  “Why?” he asked, his eyes soft, imploring her to share her outburst of grief as her weeping began to subside. “Flashbacks?”

  “Something like that,” she started, no longer having the strength to fight his presence. “It was a dream of us getting ready for dinner the night we-,” she choked on sobs, “the night he-,” she took a deep breath and looked at Jason, trying to convey the message she couldn’t vocalize.

  “I understand. Just keep taking deep breaths,” he coached, smoothing her hair away from her face and rocking her before continuing to massage the back of her head, the ultimate ‘Calm-Samantha-Down’ move. She hated that she was powerless to it, that he could still be this close of a friend after all the years that had passed. Her breathing started to return to normal as she relaxed into his embrace.

  “I think I’m okay now,” she growled, pulling away from him again. “Thank you,” she added, begrudgingly, looking at him wearily.

  “It’s no problem. Are you up for dinner?”

  “I can’t go anywhere with you…,” she said, her anxiety coming back to the surface.

  “Relax!” he laughed. “I wasn’t asking you to go out to dinner or anything. Remember, we’re friends?”

  “I don’t remember anything about us being friends, but apparently Sara does…,” Samantha mumbled under her breath.

  “What was that?” Jason asked, getting off the bed.

  “Nothing,” she shook her head in resignation, “okay, we can try to be friends.”

  “Good, cause Corigan’s been awake for an hour and waiting for her mommy. I went to the store for Sara and we’ve got some chowder and bread for dinner, if that’s okay with you?” he started back toward the kitchen, motioning for her to follow.

  “Fine, but one day, you’ll have to tell me what you did to get back in to Sara’s good graces. I mean, I’ve forgiven you for what happened, but she was the captain of your lynch mob. It must’ve been good,” she growled as she trailed behind him. Jason tensed at her words before going through the motions of getting everything together for her dinner. Samantha plopped gracelessly into a kitchen chair and folded her arms over her chest defiant that he didn’t take the bait to start an argument with her.

  **

  Jason watched as Sammy ate slowly, trying to fool him into thinking she’d eaten more than three bites of her chowder. Little did she know that Jason still familiar all of her avoidance tactics, like the one she was currently deploying: keep a conversation going so people around don’t think there is anything wrong, and don’t notice how little food is actually making its way into your body. Smile, so that no one looks beyond to see the sadness in your eyes. Sammy was a pro at trying to steer people away from the truth, but over twenty years of friendship, including five years as her boyfriend, then one as her fiancé, gave him all of the knowledge he needed to read her well, even after the years they’d spent apart.

  “Wow, that was delicious,” Sammy said. “Thank you.” She flashed him her brightest smile.

  “Not so fast,” Jason tutted, disapprovingly.

  “What? Do I have some on my face?” she joked, reaching for her napkin.

  “You’d have to eat it to get some on you,” he narrowed his eyes into hers and her mouth dropped open in what he thought was real shock to be called out.

  “I ate,” her eyes narrowed and Jason thought that she might call an end to their tentative truce. Just as the thought crossed his mind, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted like she used to do when she was twelve and he wouldn’t let her play football with his friends. Chuckling softly, mostly in relief, he reached for her spoon and stirred her chowder.

  “I know how much I put in here, do I need to get out the ladle and measure it into another bowl to get the truth?” he accused, giving her his patented ‘I know you want to cave’ look. When she looked down at the bowl, indignantly, he knew it had worked.

  “Fine,” she scowled. “How many bites do I need to eat so you won’t report me to Mommy?” she asked, grabbing the spoon from his hand.

  “We just want you to be healthy,” Jason said. “Corigan deserves for you to take care of yourself.”

  “That was a low blow, Jason,” she said, her lips curling into a dangerous sneer as she shoveled a giant spoonful of chowder into her mouth. “How dare you invoke my daughter’s name against me,” she continued after swallowing the bite and scooping another large bite.

  “Sammy, right now, I couldn’t care less what you think of my tactics,” he glowered. “You are a shadow of yourself, and you need to pull it together.” Jason finished, calmly, but his voice had a slight edge that was more indicative of his fear than any real anger. He took a deep breath before he cleared his bowl to the sink and checked Corigan’s progress on her own dinner of finger foods, waiting for her wrath at his words.

  “How do you know how I am anymore?” she spat, with a look that would’ve vaporized him where he stood, had he not been prepared for it.

  “Oh, put away the ‘you’re dead to me’ look. You know that’s never worked on me, Sammy,” Jason shot back, a smug smile spreading across his face. Instead of responding, Sammy chose, wisely, to take another over large bite of the chowder. Then she smiled, sweetly, at Jason, and he knew she had regrouped and was getting ready to go in for the kill.

  “Before you start to berate me
for calling you Sammy or something else equally stupid, I just want to say thank you for letting me feed you and help with Corigan tonight,” he said, his face now sincere as he started to wipe down her kitchen island to clear it of bread crumbs and chowder drippings. He watched her smile falter and he knew he’d defused the bomb she was planning to detonate, because she narrowed her eyes again and finished off her chowder and bread in record time.

  “All clear, daddy,” she said, holding up her bowl. “May I be excused now?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

  “Wow,” Jason said, playfully, “I love it when you call me daddy.” He growled.

  “Don’t get used to it,” she grumbled as she moved her bowl to the sink to rinse it out. “I’m going to bathe Corigan and get her settled for the night, you can leave,” she said, pulling Corigan from her high chair and heading for the stair. Before she was about to start her descent, she turned back to face him, adding, “Tell Sara I said your babysitting shift is over. Oh, and get her to pay you time and a half for forcing me to eat,” she finished before turning on her heels and disappearing to the first floor of her house. He was relieved to see glimmers of his Sammy behind the wall of pain, and he hoped that she would let him help her get her life back on track.

  Chapter 4

  “Sammy!” Jason yelled at the open window on the east end of the two story pink craftsman.

  “What?!” she answered back, shoving half of her body out of the second floor window, her long braid hanging over her shoulder.