Now, Casey was in a committed relationship with Dr. Roma, an exotic middle-aged woman who seemed more accepting of prolonged grief, as she was a widow herself. Her husband had lost his mind a few years prior and was committed by his own wife to a mental institution. It was there that he split his wrists wide open with a homemade shiv and laughed as he bled to death. Despite the brutality of the situation, Dr. Roma seemed fine. She might have appeared happy, even. Casey couldn’t figure out if Dr. Roma had accepted the brutal suicide of her husband and moved on, or if she was just relieved that she did not have to deal with yet another crazy person in her overwhelming life. Either way, Dr. Roma seemed to understand and relate to Casey’s pain, and she was never shy about prescribing limitless bottles of pills to a fellow grieving widow.
“How are you feeling today, Casey?” Dr. Roma asked one morning, not long after Casey began seeing her.
Casey opened her mouth to answer with the same old story of sadness and grief, but stopped as a rare feeling arose inside of her. “I feel lonely,” she said. As those three simple words escaped her mouth, she thought about the emotion that came from being utterly alone. It had always struck her as odd that though she felt immense sorrow and pain from her loss, she was rarely lonely. It was almost as if being on her own suited her, though the thought of that gave rise to so much guilt. Growing up, she had surrounded herself with friends to make up for the lack of connection at home. After her grandmother passed, she lived alone with her dad, who had a very small range of emotions. He was distant most of the time, and never showed the affection that a father should. When she and Jace married and got pregnant, Casey was sure that she would never feel lonely again. Boy was she wrong.
“It is normal to feel lonely after such a great loss. Is this not an emotion that you are used to feeling?” Dr. Roma asked.
“Not really,” Casey said. “I would rather be alone—most days.”
“Well, the sudden feeling of loneliness might be a sign that you are finally ready to accept the death of your husband and your son,” Dr. Roma said.
Casey was dumbfounded. “How is accepting the fact that the love of my life, and my infant son, are both dead a positive step?” she asked.
“Well, Casey, there are many stages of grief, and it takes a long time to get back on your feet to where you are able to open your heart again. Acceptance is one of them,” said Dr. Roma.
“Whoa whoa whoa! Just because you are under the impression that I am ready to ‘accept’ Jace’s death, does not mean that I am anywhere near the point of ‘opening my heart’. I don’t think—no, I know that I will never be able to love another man anyway.” Casey was astounded that this was even a suggestion from her new shrink. Guess I will be finding another new Doc, she thought to herself.
As if Dr. Roma had read her mind, she explained quickly, “Just think about it Casey. It has been a year. You made very little progress with your last psychiatrist, and you do not seem to want to make progress here. I know that there is no time limit for grief, but it is unhealthy to stay in the rut you are in.”
“I didn’t make progress with Dr. Satter because he was a prick. He couldn’t tell his ass from his elbow, much less understand how to help someone in so much pain.” Casey was getting angry just thinking about him.
Dr. Roma let Casey vent, but did not respond. Casey thought that it must be some sort of psychiatrist code—it must be uncouth to talk about a fellow shrink. “It doesn’t surprise me that you are lonely,” she said. “Women have needs. Needs that can only be filled by another person, whether it be male or female, friend or lover. Tell me, Casey, haven’t you even noticed anyone of interest to you lately? Has anyone noticed you?”
“No of course not!” Casey almost shouted. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? A knot twisted and strained inside of her as a vision of the green-eyed man filled her mind. Their eyes had met, and something had sparked inside her long-extinguished heart. Though she was far from escaping her grief, it was undeniable that she wanted to see him again.
After her appointment, she stepped out onto the narrow street and felt completely uneasy. It was like the good doctor had stirred her brains with a swizzle stick. Why was she feeling lonely all of a sudden? Who was the man in the pub? Why was she so interested? As her mind swam, she walked in no particular direction. Sometimes the best medicine for Casey was taking a walk through the streets of Boston and completely opening her senses to her surroundings. The hustle and bustle of the city by the sea helped to relieve her mind of the constant overload that never ceased to arise.
Casey must have been walking for at least an hour before she decided it was just about time to drink. She felt a bender coming on something fierce after her appointment with Dr. Roma. As she looked around for the nearest watering hole, she realized that she was right across the street from Rosco’s. Could it be that her feet pointed her in the direction of the same bar at which she had seen the man with the smoldering green eyes? Or was it her heart just yearning for a feeling other than pain? She looked hard at the bar for a moment and decided to walk on. She needed to put out the fire that warmed within her. Jace was still in her heart, and there was no room for anyone else. She got just about a half a block down before curiosity got the best of her.
Inside the pub, she walked right up to the bar and ordered a Smithwick’s. She dared not scan the room until she was comfortably seated and about halfway through her beer. Her nerves were on the rise, and she had a fleeting thought that this feeling was familiar, like the night she had met Jace. Once seated at a table from which she could easily escape if needed, she scanned the pub. Casey was both relieved and crushed to find that the stranger was not there.
Three hours and an unknown number of pints later, Casey swayed down the street toward home. Even in her drunken stupor, she made note of how thankful she was that she did not live in Texas anymore. This kind of shit-faced would get you thrown into jail in an instant there, because getting behind the wheel like this would most definitely plant your ass through a pole. Here, in the big city, there was no need for a car, and as long as you stayed on the sidewalk, nobody really cared about public intoxication. Good thing.
After finding the right building (and the right key for that matter), Casey was overwhelmed with desire for a hot bath. As she ran the water and lit a few candles, she stripped and surveyed her body in the mirror. Once blessed with curves and full luscious breasts, Casey’s skin lazily hung from her bones. Her flesh was pale and her hair frazzled. Ugh, how could anyone ever want me like this anyway, she thought?
As she submerged her body in the steaming water, her tense muscles began to relax. She did not notice at first that she was fondling her slick breasts, but became aware of her arousal as she pinched one of her swollen nipples. Had it really been over a year since she had felt any pleasure? Surely not. Her hand continued south and dipped into the steaming water. It rested right above her sex, which she could tell was warm and slick. The soft skin between her legs ached to be touched. She jolted in the tub when her fingers met long-abandoned flesh. There was once a time when she thought of no one but Jace when she masturbated. She could make herself have the wildest orgasms from merely picturing his face. Now, to her surprise, it was a different man in her fantasy—a man unfamiliar. She was fantasizing about the stranger. Though she had not seen more than just the eyes of the man, she needed little more to send her over the edge. As she began to vigorously rub herself, she dipped her finger inside and felt an intense pleasure that she so sorely needed. As she imagined the man’s green eyes, she swiftly began to climax. Her body shook from the only pleasure she had known in so long, and she rode her orgasm until she was spent. For once, she smiled. She felt like a woman again.
Lying in bed, it took very little time for Casey to fall asleep, as her entire body was at ease. She was sure that for the first time in an entire year, she could get a peaceful night’s rest, and for the most part, she did. However, in the early hours of the morning, Casey had another n
ightmare that was entirely different from the rolling SUV.
Jace was cradling their infant son tightly in his arms. He was staring at her, eyes moist and full of pain. All of a sudden a dismal wind began to blow against them, and their bodies slowly melted away.
Casey awoke in a panic, tears flowing down her cheeks. She felt utterly guilty, as if Jace was judging her. She felt as though she had cheated on him.
Chapter 4
The following morning, Casey’s mind was filled with guilt and regret, loneliness and sadness. I have to figure this shit out, she thought to herself over and over. Though she knew that she could not go on this way, it was impossible for her to heed her own advice. It was all just too much. After only a minute of overwhelming thought, Casey sighed and went straight back to sleep. In that moment, she felt lower than she ever had. She did not want to release Jace and their son yet, but she was desperate to get on with her life. She did not want to accept that they were truly gone, but she knew in her heart that they would never return. She did not want to attempt to have a romantic relationship with anyone but Jace, but she was incredibly desperate to feel the warmth of a man’s touch again. Her mind was on overdrive. Too mentally exhausted to process all of the thoughts swirling in that brain of hers, Casey fell back to sleep.
As she slept, her dreams were more of a memory than an actual dream. Even in the abyss of a deep slumber, she sighed relief at the fact that this was not the unrelenting nightmare that had been recurring each night.
She was with Sammie sitting at the bar where she and Jace worked. She had been working there a couple of weeks, but she and the bartender had not exchanged many words. He would glance at her from across the bar and give her one of his award-winning smiles, but she would always get too nervous to actually say more than a few words to him. However, on this day, Casey had brought Sammie to eat lunch and survey the new crush.
“Okay, Case, you got me here. Now where—Holy mother of God! Is that him?”
Casey smiled wide, sure that there were little hearts floating out of her eyes like in the cartoons. Her response was simple. “Yep.”
“Well, hello, Mr. Bartender. He is absolutely gorgeous!” Sammie said with a smile. “You had better go talk to him before I do!” She flashed a flirty smile, but Casey knew she was joking.
Casey gave Sammie a look of utter fear and asked, “But what do I say?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you go all fearless and ask him on a date? Just be your normal quirky, neurotic self, Case. I know you don’t think that much of yourself for whatever reason, but believe me, any guy would be lucky to have you at their side. Just grow a pair and go on over. Worst-case scenario, he says no, in which case you quit your job and we go get hammered. Now go…and be strong!”
At that, Casey gave Sammie a “go to hell” look, and mustered every bit of strength she had to make her way to the bar. As she approached, she saw something in Jace’s eyes that gave her a bit of confidence. He seemed to be looking at her, lustfully? Surely not!
When she was directly in front of him, she had a fleeting thought just to order a few shots and go sit back down to stew in her own shame. However, that look in Jace’s eyes seemed to give her the confidence she needed to actually speak. To her surprise, the words that followed were completely cool and collected.
“Hey, Jace. How are you today?” she asked him, surprisingly not stumbling over her words like a blabbering idiot.
“Hello, Casey.” He remembers my name! It seemed like a good sign. “I am awesome! How about you?” he asked.
“I am fine. Just brought my roommate in to, er, eat lunch and stuff,” she said. As he peered around at Sammie, Casey began to worry if he might find her more attractive. Most guys did. What if he decided he liked that whole bright-red-lipstick-and-outgoing thing? What if he found Casey too boring and safe? What if he was a bad boy who liked bad girls? Just as a large lump began to rise in her throat, she watched as Jace just nodded once at Sammie and returned his attention to her. Instant relief washed over her, and she decided to just go for it.
She asked, “Hey, Jace I know you are probably busy, or you probably already have a girlfriend or something but…”
“I would love to go out with you,” he answered before she could finish her sentence.
She was stunned silent. Had she heard him right? Was this gorgeous man who she had been incessantly thinking about for the last couple weeks really willing to go out with her?
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
“I said I would love to go out with you. How about tomorrow night?” he asked her. She just knew in that moment that she must be dreaming. Either that, or she had died. A date with him would be heaven.
After the details were settled for their date, she turned to go back to her table with Sammie. The smile on her face was so wide, she was sure that the corners of her mouth were about to become one with her ears. As she sat down, Sammie nonchalantly stated that she guessed all went well. When Casey simply nodded, Sammie said, “See, I told you to be strong. Now, what is good to eat in this shit-hole?”
At that, Casey awoke to realize that she had been asleep most of the day. The alarm clock read 6, though she was still half-asleep and unsure if that was a.m. or p.m. She lay in her bed for some time, both pondering the meaning of the dream and reveling in her astonishment that it was possible to dream a memory. That kind of thing had never happened to her before. Casey’s thoughts were interrupted by the agonizing groans of her stomach, and she rolled out of bed to survey the fridge situation. She was not much into shopping since her afternoons were mostly filled with alcoholism, so it was no surprise that there was not much to work with.
Still somewhat asleep and mostly on autopilot, Casey went to her bathroom to shower. If she was going to get anything other than some crappy takeout, she was going to have to go out. The idea did not seem too bad, and she was developing a thirst for her daily brew that she had missed during her slumber. Halfway through her shower, she thought of the dream she had just experienced. It was the first time in over a year that she hadn’t woke up from a nightmare screaming and covered in sweat. She also thought of how much she missed Sammie. Everything between them had changed after Jace died. Casey was a zombie, and Sammie desperately wanted to fix her. She could not grasp the idea that once something is smashed to pieces, there is no chance of mending it. For the most part, her memories during that time were fuzzy at best. When Casey had moved to Boston not long after, she left without a word. Saying goodbye to anyone else was just not possible. Casey had ignored Sammie’s calls for the better half of the year until they suddenly stopped some months back.
Casey finished getting ready, grabbed her things, and took the stairs to the street below. She inhaled the cool Boston air deeply, and exhaled feeling rested. She actually felt good this evening. She looked at her phone for the first time since last night, and realized that she had a missed call from Sammie. “I miss her.”
She must have thought that out loud, because a very flamboyant guy walking with what seemed to be his boyfriend responded, “Well then call her, girl!” Casey laughed, and decided that she would call her friend back tonight, after she had some food and a little liquid courage. She would need it to be swept back into the past, because Sammie was in Texas, and Texas was where she had been with Jace, and Jace was dead. She did not want to keep thinking about it.
After a difficult debate with herself, Casey decided that she was in the mood for pizza, and followed her stomach to Regina’s. Though she had never experienced true New York-style pizza, Casey was sure that Regina’s pizza was better than any other on earth. She and Jace had found the small gem on their first trip to Boston together. It was their honeymoon, and they were absolutely head over heels for one another. After a night of heavy celebrating, they had both awoken with a massive craving for pizza, and were told by a few locals that Regina’s was the best. After hours of trolling the streets looking for the restaurant, they had found it, and fell instantly
in love with the dish all over again. These days, Casey had become somewhat of a regular here. She loved the family atmosphere of the bustling little space. She did not mind having to wait in line around the building for a table, because to her, that was an indication that the food had always been and would always be delicious. Hell, she did not even mind the fact that they did not serve ranch with their pizza, as most everyone in Texas did.
After two over-sized slices, Casey had quieted the screaming in her stomach, and decided it was time for that beer. She skipped the T-Line and walked until she found a small bar that was unfamiliar to her. Once inside, she found a quaint table tucked away from the crowd. She sat down to listen to the Celtic band that was playing on stage. There was something about the whistling of the flute that eased her. She never recognized her Irish heritage much until she moved to Massachusetts. Now, everywhere she went, Ireland surrounded her, and she reveled in it.
After ordering a beer, she scanned the room. Everywhere she looked, she saw couples and groups of friends. As she thought that she must be the only person drinking solo, the feeling of loneliness struck her again. Then she began to feel the sensation of being watched once again. She scanned the space and there, at the very end of the bar, was her stranger, watching her.
In that moment, she thought that her heart had stopped beating. She felt an instant heat boil from within her, an arousal that was unprecedented. She was terrified, but realized that she needed to speak to this man tonight, or she would regret it forever. Be Strong. Sammie’s words rang in her ears. It had to have all been a sign.
As the stranger’s gaze collided with hers, Casey felt herself blush. She smiled quickly, and realized that it was an invitation for approach. He smiled back, and Casey’s heart pounded. Oh, that smile, she thought. She hadn’t seen a smile like that since…She let the thought drift away as the man began walking toward her table. Her instinct told her to run, but her insides and the flesh below her skirt told her to stay. As he crossed the room, it seemed as if time had slowed around them, and they were the only two people in the bar. Casey surveyed the man’s strong body as he approached her. Her stranger was about 6’1” and lacked even an ounce of fat. His hair was dark, with hints of gray around the hairline, which meant that he had to be older than Casey.
The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2