Where I Found My Heart
By C.E. Hansen
A Novella
Copyright © 2015 by C.E. Hansen
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.
ISBN-13: 978-1517766306
Cover Image File licensed by www.c-e-hansen.me
Cover Art by Fiona Jayde Media
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by TomCinKat Publishing
Chapter 1
I opened one eye, followed by the other.
“Shit.”
The brightness of the morning sun piercing the small openings between my blinds hurt my eyeballs and I immediately shut them both tight.
“Damn it.”
I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head and sighed. It was getting harder and harder to find a reason to get out of bed.
For a short time I thought I was at long last coming out of the dark place where I’d spent the latter part of this year, but now I doubt the little measure of confidence I gained. One step forward, two steps back. Whoever first said that was dead on.
I threw one foot over the side of the bed and felt the cold surface of the wooden floor with my big toe. I was about to pull my leg back under the blankets and roll over but my bladder overruled my bad judgment.
Standing I grabbed the bathrobe lying across the bottom of my bed and pulled it on my arms before shuffling towards the bathroom.
I sat and squinted as I peed, but it wasn’t enough to staunch the tears that slipped down my cheeks.
“That was close.”
When I finished, I walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet and thrust my hands under the frigid water. I had little empathy for myself these days. I had little anything for myself these days. I yanked at the soap on the sink where it had dried, adhering itself to the ceramic surface, and passed it over the surface of my skin. After rinsing as fast as possible I yanked the small thin towel off the towel ring and dried my cold hands.
I made the mistake of glancing up.
I caught my reflection in the film-covered mirror. What I saw staring back at me was almost unrecognizable. This is why I don’t look in mirrors.
My hair was dull and lifeless, my skin pale like paper, my once vibrant green eyes, now faded, looked old. I stood there for a few minutes, struggling to remember a time when I smiled and almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the thought. Shoving the towel back through the ring I tightened the belt around my waist and walked out of the bathroom, stopping briefly at the nightstand to get the hair band I’d left there and pulled my hair up into a combined nest of knots.
I knew coffee was a must if I were to function, but my interest in doing anything was at an all time low, so I drank the coffee out of habit and nothing else. Of late, I expended more energy in avoiding human contact than I did in keeping myself presentable.
“Jesus Christ. This is no life.”
Ever since Dylan’s…ever since Dylan left all I ever wanted to do was crawl back into a hole and be torn apart by whatever evil lies therein. I lacked the courage and conviction to take myself out, isn’t facing everyday without him the hell I deserve?
I thought so, just rewards and all.
I looked around the room like I’ve done countless times and was in my own distorted way pleased to find nothing that spoke of me present. The room was blank. Emotionless. Like no one lived here. The walls painted a dull light brown, the floors plain wood; no area rugs, no pretty furniture, no coffee table with a cute but useless centerpiece.
Nothing.
Especially no pictures.
No past, no future. Nothing.
It was as if the apartment were occupied by a ghost, and for all intents and purposes, it was, because there was no life here. None. I was as dead inside as…well, I was dead. Or at least I prayed I would be soon.
Right after Dylan left…
Goddamn it hurts, even after all this time to think it, let alone say it. Say it. Shit. This is the reason I couldn’t be around anyone. Preferred no contact with people. I learned early in the grieving process people are basically useless crap. Well, at least in my particular circumstances.
Oh, they all seemed genuinely concerned, taking part in the pain right along side me. For a short time I didn’t feel so alone. My friends, a term I don’t use anymore, had this strong desire to comfort me—the injured, the unjustly saddened. They presented themselves as united souls with the sole desire of wanting to take some of the burden from me and place it on their own shoulders. But that only lasted so long.
In all actuality, that lasted mere weeks. Then it was on to the next thing. The next happy event, the next tragedy, the next bit of something to talk about in their little circles that would make them seem somewhat interesting.
Dickheads.
I learned real fast the pain is mine. All mine and will stay with me, whether I want it to or not. And no one, and I mean, no one, will or could ‘shoulder’ it at anytime. It’s mine. I paid for it and I own it.
I’m okay with owning it. What I’m not okay with is why.
Why did it have to be Dylan?
Why couldn’t it have been someone else, anyone, even one of those who wanted to shoulder it? One of those assholes who pretended to be heroes.
You don’t know how many times I wanted to say ‘You know…that’s a good idea. I wish you could take the pain. I wish you were dead instead of him.’ But those words never left the tip of my tongue. Instead they stayed there, lingering, turning sour like bile in the back of my throat. Simmering into a stew of malevolence until I had nothing nice to say to anyone…about anything.
Damn you Dylan. Why did you leave me?
I swiped at my tears. Still amazed I had any left after so many countless swipes.
“I’m so tired Dylan.” My words drifted up into the ether.
I left the half drank coffee cup on the table, stood and before I knew it, I was back in bed, under the blanket wishing I could fade away, disappear into sleep.
I rolled over and my eyes immediately fixated on the pill bottle prominently standing on the surface of nightstand and right next to it a gold band.
“Fuck you.”
They both had a power over me. I needed them to remind me of what I was, who I was. Those little blue pills were the only thing I had that could dull the ache. Lessen the emptiness, and the band…well, that’s why I needed the little blue pills.
The days I could deal with. It was the nights I had real trouble with. That was when I couldn’t control the dreams. Those vivid nightmares would sneak in and suck out the miniscule bits of life I had left in me, draining me, leaving me feeling dead the whole next day.
The teasing…where I could almost reach him…almost touch him. He would stand there taunting me with his smile; his warm welcome smile, so full of life, so full of hope, full of forgiveness.
Fuck that!
His smile had the ability to slay me each and every time the corners of his mouth turned up. Goddamn him. Goddamn his smile. Goddamn nightma
res.
What a coward I am!
Chapter 2
“You know what I could go for?”
“What?”
“Pound cake and ice cream.”
“We just ate dinner Ren.”
“I know, but the baby’s hungry.”
“The baby huh?”
“Yup.”
“And what kind of ice cream does the baby want?”
“Pralines and cream.”
“Quite the palate my son has.” He insisted it was going to be a boy. I myself didn’t care, and I knew in my heart of hearts Dylan didn’t either. He would love this baby no matter what. In fact, I could see a little girl who had her daddy wrapped around her pinky finger.
“He takes after his father.”
“Well, in appetite, that’s for sure.” He got off the couch and walked over to the chair where he’d thrown his pants. He teetered slipping his leg in and I giggled.
“Where’s my wallet?” He asked as he felt his pockets.
“My purse is right there.” I pointed to the table by the door.
He picked it up and walked over to the couch. I reached in pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.
“Pickles with that?” He laughed.
“No, I’ll pass on the pickles, but don’t forget the pound cake.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I love you Dylan.”
“That’s only cause I’m going out to get you ice cream.”
“True.” I laughed, “but I also love you for lots of other reasons.” I winked.
“Maybe you could show me some of those reasons when I get back.”
“I look forward to it.” He leaned in and kissed me, it was one of those passionate kisses and I could sense he was already anticipating his ‘reward’. “Hurry back.”
“I intend to.”
He smiled and his eyes twinkled. I love his eyes; hazel with little golden specks. I’d never seen eyes that color until I met him, and his twin sister Libby, who shared the same good looks, dark wavy hair and those exceptional eyes. They both worked outdoors so they both had gorgeous complexions, even golden tans. I loved Libby the moment I met her. She was warm and outgoing, sweet and funny. We totally hit it off.
I looked at the clock. Going on forty-five minutes. I wondered what was taking Dylan so long the market was five minutes away by car. I figured he must have bumped into someone he knew, which was just about everyone in town. He was very popular. Not only because of the family’s nursery business, but he coached little league, was a volunteer firefighter, and an all around great guy.
Well, I married the man so of course he’s totally awesome.
Leaning my head back onto the sofa I closed my eyes. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, but I was startled awake when I heard a knock on the door. Rubbing my eyes I sat up.
“What, you forget your keys?” I stood up and walked to the door, “Now I don’t even know if I want the ice cream.” I snickered.
I yanked the door open, and was so damned confused. Robert Ticker, who worked with Dylan at the Fire Department stood next to another man I’d never met, and a policeman who I had also never met, stood behind them both.
I looked at their faces and knew something wasn’t right.
“Where’s Dylan, Bobby?” I asked him, he looked at the officer and then back at me.
“Let’s go inside Reny.”
“I am inside Bobby, where is Dylan?” I started to panic, but moved aside and let them all in.
“There was an accident Reny.” Bobby said.
“Accident? What kind of accident?”
“A car accident. Reny Dylan’s been in a car accident.”
“Where? Why are you standing there like that?” I pulled a jacket out of the closet and grabbed my purse.
“Reny, please sit.”
“Bobby, I need to go to Dylan.”
“You can’t Reny. He died at the scene. I’m sorry Ren, but he’s dead.”
“Why are you telling me this Bobby? Why are you saying this?” My voice was high and I was becoming impatient for answers. “Damn it Bobby, what’s going on?”
“Dylan was killed in a car accident.”
It sank in.
“Take me to him. Take me to him now!” Shrill couldn’t even come close to describing my voice. “Bobby get the fuck out of my way.”
I felt another arm steady me and hold me in place.
“Reny, his body has been taken to the hospital.”
“Then take me there. Now. Take me to him.”
“Reny, he didn’t make it, he expired.”
“That’s a stupid word Bobby.” I looked at all three of them, “Expired. Milk expires. People don’t expire. Dylan doesn’t expire.”
“Reny, Dylan died.” He was looking directly into my eyes at this point. I remember because I remember he was crying. His tears streamed down his face.
“How…how…how did he die?”
“They’re going perform an autopsy and we’ll get more answers.”
“Where is Dylan Bobby, and when is he coming home?”
They all looked at each other then back at me. They stared at me through their damned glassy eyes and looked at me like I was losing my mind, and I felt like I was. I lost my ability to think clearly. I lost my heart, followed by my legs. I knew I was falling and I prayed I wouldn’t wake up.
But I did.
I woke up and it was right about then hell stoked its fires. I was about to know how bad things could get. How horrific things, life, my life, would be.
Chapter 3
I opened the door of the fridge and noticed with a deep heavy sigh it was time. I don’t wear a watch. I don't look at clocks. I eat when I have to, and drink when I’m thirsty. But the cabinets were empty and the fridge was worse. There was half an apple that had turned brown and shriveled. A jar of sauce, half full, a Ziploc bag with pasta that had grown green spots, and a four bottles of water. On the door was a bottle of wine that was almost empty, it’s cork pushed in lopsided.
I gave up alcohol, because it required going out in public to buy more. But I welcomed the numbness it brought me. It even came close one time to giving me the bravado required to do what I needed to do. I don’t remember what, but something stopped me. I think it was that elusive smile. Stupid alcohol.
I had set one task for myself these days and unfortunately, that time was now. So I resolved to get it over and done with. I shut the door and walked back in the bedroom. Pulled a sweatshirt from the closet and grabbed the jeans I had thrown over the chair, I don’t remember when, and dumped them in the middle of the unmade bed.
I pushed myself to get into the shower, cleaned, dried and dressed. All the while I kept repeating ‘after you get this over with you won’t have to go out again for another four weeks’ like some twisted mantra.
That was how perfect I got it down. I knew how much to buy to keep myself going so I didn’t have to go out again for another four weeks. I tugged my jacket on and pulled a hat over my unruly hair before making my way out the door. I took the elevator down to the garage level and walked over to where I had parked my car a mere four weeks ago. How the time flies when you dread going out.
I opened the door and slipped in behind the wheel, but not before wrinkling my nose at the smell of urine. From what I could remember it was stronger than the last time I ventured out. Dylan would have made a complaint, telling the building supervisor they needed to keep the garage clean and empty of stragglers. He used that word a lot. Stragglers.
I sat looking around me like it was the first time I’d been in this car. It always took me a good five minutes to get reacquainted with driving. I double-checked that I had my credit card and license, both in my cardholder, and after confirming I did, I put the key in the ignition. The loud sound of the engine starting never failed to give me a jolt. I counted to ten slowly in my head before slipping the car into drive and exiting.
I tried to avoid looking at the peo
ple walking about. They seemed so alien now. Like they were from another place and time, where I once existed as a young girl who used to smile. I wasted no time letting those happy memories fade. I drove almost an hour out of town to avoid running into anyone I might know or who might know me.
The hell with their misguided pity.
I preferred anonymity.
As I pulled into the parking lot of a random Stop and Shop I could feel my hands tremble. A thin coating of sweat covered my scalp. I was petrified, angry, and sad. I didn’t want to do this. But I climbed out of my car, hung my head down and I slowly walked into the store.
I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to see the weak smiles or pitiful glances I seemed to get from the other shoppers. It was as if I wore a sign that said ‘sad, depressed and misplaced’. All I wanted was to bag my groceries, pay and leave.
I placed several items in my cart before leaving the pasta isle and turning into the canned goods isle.
“Excuse me.”
I heard the words but walked a little faster. I didn’t know if they were directed at me or not and I didn’t care. I kept my head down and walked.
“Miss.”
My fingers tightened around the already sweaty bar of the cart, and was gripped with fear. I turned my head slightly to find a man, tall with a broad build, no older than thirty standing behind me. In his hand was my cardholder.
“I think you dropped this.” He said before looking down at the cards. “In fact, I know you dropped it.” Then he took another look between me and the picture on my license and I could see confusion flit across his face. I didn’t look like that picture anymore.
“This is you right?” He looked once again at my face before looking at the picture. His surprised look angered me and I walked over and pulled my cardholder from his hand.
“Thank you.” The words came out sounding more like a ‘fuck you’ than a ‘thank you’. But in my defense, I was put out by his audacity. I shoved the cardholder back in my jacket pocket and took two steps away from him before I heard the cardholder once again fall to the floor.
Where I Found My Heart Page 1