The Crashing Series

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  A tiny voice crackled in the uncomfortable silence that had taken over the office. “How did he die?” The words were distant from my thoughts and it took a few moments for them to register.

  “He was in a parachuting accident. He was a soldier. His chute never opened. He crashed into the ground and died. There was no saving him.” My throat was dry, my voice quiet and shaky; I couldn’t believe those words had come out of my mouth. It hadn’t even sounded like my voice.

  She wrinkled her nose a little, as if she were fighting off a sneeze. Dr. Davenport reached over, handed me a tissue box, and offered me some water. When I accepted the offer, she left the room for a moment and I finally relaxed my shoulders when the door closed behind her. I was determined to answer her questions, breakdown or not. I knew I had to do this to get better.

  When she returned, she handed me a cold water bottle, settling back down in her seat. “How did you two meet?”

  I looked up into her mousy face, her wrinkled nose and her blue eyes fixated on me as I fumbled for words. I was completely taken aback. Since Randy had died, no one had asked me about the happy times. They just kept asking how I had been holding up. The muscles in my face finally relaxed into a softer expression, letting me start at the beginning with that fateful night we all met during fraternity rush.

  I told her everything, all the way down to checking out Walker first and then being captivated with Randy from that day forward.

  I was brought back to reality by Dr. Davenport sneezing. “Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry.” She dabbed her button nose with her hankie and looked me right in the eyes. “What was your husband’s name?”

  “Randall McManus.” The full name sounded odd to my ears.

  She smiled warmly, unaware of my discomfort. “He sounds like a really fun guy. I see you’re still wearing your ring. Tell me about that a little. Why are you still wearing it?”

  I looked down at my hand, narrowed my brow, and frowned. “I guess I had never thought about it before,” I lied. “Is it a bad thing?”

  She grimaced at my expression. “No, not at all. It’s your comfort zone. I’m just trying to learn about you. What do you do for fun, Margret?”

  I sighed with a little bit of relief for the change of conversation. I was in no way ready to take my wedding band off. “I guess I don’t really do anything except for work. I have three really close friends who try to distract me, a mother who tries but fails, and my in-laws who live down the street.”

  She furiously wrote on her notepad, barely looking up from her notes in her lap. “That must be nice to be so close to loved ones. That can really help in the grieving process. What did you and Randall do for fun?”

  I smile and cooed. “Anything was fun with Randy by my side. We could laugh and carry on no matter what. Life was never boring, and we just clicked. He was my one, my sunshine, and now I’m in the dark, all alone.”

  “What about that young gentleman with whom you were sitting in the lobby? He must be a good friend to be accompanying you here.”

  I prayed she would not notice the fiery red color that scorched my cheeks. “That’s Walker, Randy’s best friend.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. I really did not want my therapist to get the wrong impression of me during our first session. “He’s made it kind of a mission to take care of me since we lost Randy. He’s a good friend.” The last words came out rigid and absolute.

  Dr. Davenport’s eyebrows rose at my explanation but did not push the subject further. A kind smile spread across her lips, allowing me to relax a little again. “We’re just about out of time for today. Why don’t we see each other once a week. Tuesdays at six?”

  I nodded, thanking her for her time and for listening to me.

  Before I could stand, she made stern eye contact with me, taking my shaking hands in hers. “Margret, I don’t want you to start to think you have to forget about your loved ones who are gone and get over them. Life is about remembering the good times and reminding yourself there is always still good in the world. Can you try to do that?”

  I assured her that I would do my best, and her eyes lit up as she patted me on the shoulder. I couldn’t help but think about how many of her patients might ignore her tips.

  She held the door for me, and I shook her hand, saying goodbye one more time. Walker stood once he saw me emerge from the office, a grin plastered on his face from ear to ear, probably happy to see I wasn’t a complete mess.

  I hooked my arm around his and beamed up into his wonderfully happy face. “Thanks for being so great to me all the time. It means a lot.”

  Walker led me out of the double doors and stopped a few steps away from his truck. “Mags, I don’t know how many more times I will have to say this, but here it goes. You’re amazing, you deserve the best, and I want nothing more than to be whatever you need me to be.”

  I stared blankly at him for a second, a little confused by his choice of words but ignoring their possible underlying meaning. I pulled him into a much-needed hug. We stood there for a few seconds, Walker pulling away first.

  “Come on. I need to get you home. You’ve had a long day.”

  With that, he opened up the passenger’s side door for me, helping me inside his truck. We rode in silence back to my house. Once we were in the driveway, I pecked Walker on the cheek, thanked him again for the ride, and made my way inside, trying to sort through all of the craziness from my day.

  Six

  The rest of my workweek crawled by at a snail’s pace, boring and mundane like usual. My anticipation for the beach outing with Cali continued to grow as the days passed. It had been so long since I’d acted like I used to, and I had completely neglected Cali for the most part. I knew she understood, but her friendship was an important part of my life, and it was high time we started getting back into our goofy girl-time routines again. I was so glad we had made these plans. The thought of it all had put me in a better mood all week. I guess I really am starting to get better.

  Saturday morning, I was woken up by Cali jumping into my bed and giggling. “Wake up, sleepy head! It is going to be a hot one!”

  “Ugh, I should never have given you and Walker keys. You two always just barge in!” I groaned, pulling my pillow over my face, not wanting to be brought out of my peaceful dream of sunbathing with Randy.

  Finally, after about a minute of Cali restlessly jumping up and down on my bed, I pried my eyes open, removed the pillow, and couldn’t help but laugh at her goofiness. Stretching into a yawn, I grumbled, “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready. Good thing I shaved my legs last night. What time is it?”

  Cali hopped off my bed and started rummaging through the bathing suits in my drawer. “Seven thirty. I figured we could grab some breakfast over in Cocoa, tan for a little while, and then head over to a bar to do a little day drinking.” She spun around, holding a swimsuit in her hands, smiling at it. “Here, this one is sexy!”

  She threw the bathing suit at me while I was still cocooned in blankets; I smiled when I held it up and thought about how perfect a day she had planned. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you and how great a best friend you are?” I warmly smiled at Cali as she checked her eyeliner in my mirror. In the reflection, she smiled back as I climbed out of my comfy, warm bed.

  “I love that entire plan.” I giggled, slipping into my bathroom to put on the hot pink Brazilian-style bikini that probably had the least amount of fabric possible and brush my teeth. Cali, like always, looked stunning in her little hot pink shorts, white tank top, and purple strapless bikini that was visible under the sheer fabric. She and I were just about the same height and size, but she always looked better than I did. I knew mostly it was from effort, so I didn’t mind when she dictated my clothing choices; usually she was right.

  I came out modeling the suit for Cali, and she smiled and clapped. “Man, I have good taste,” she said, giving herself a little pat on the back. She grabbed her beach bag and started for the door. “Let’s go. I’m star
ving.”

  I dove under my bed to find my blue beach bag and then put my wallet and other essentials into it. I slipped on my white shorts and a cute, flowing, almost see-through black top in a hurry.

  Before I could walk out of my room, Cali met me in the doorway, holding my big towels and full-sized white sheet out. “Your bag is bigger. You get the towels.” She grinned, grabbed my wrist, and led me down the stairs.

  Riding in her little white Chevrolet Cobalt that smelled like a combination of island breeze and cupcakes brought me back to her driving me around freshman year. I had totaled my car driving home to see my mom on winter break. I beamed at how great a friend she had always been to me over the years. It seemed like my life was always in the gutter, and Cali was the one always helping me out.

  Cali scrolled through the radio stations until she found the perfect one—hits from the 80s and 90s. We bobbed to old pop songs from back in our high school days. We talked about how "Oops, I Did it Again” reminded me of the summer I had my first kiss with Dominic Preston and how every time Cali heard "Bye, Bye, Bye” she remembered playing it on a loop, crying in her mother’s room after her first really bad breakup. I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window, remembering how just a few years ago my life had been so simple. My heart ached to be back in those times before my life’s cards had been dealt.

  We pulled into a little diner on our way out to Highway A1A to grab some scrambled eggs and coffee. We gawked over our terrible service from our grumpy middle-aged waitress. During college, Cali and I had both been bartenders, and the experience had made us overly critical of service and exceptional tippers despite quality. Randy would always get mad at us for wanting to leave thirty or forty percent for service that was subpar at best, but we felt like it was karma.

  Right when I felt the sand between my toes and smelled the salty air, I relaxed. There was something about being close to the ocean that brought me peace. It almost was as if I felt so small that all of my problems felt so much smaller when considered next to something so magnificently huge.

  Cali and I found the perfect tanning spot and laid out our sheet and towels.

  Pulling two water bottles from her bag, Cali breathed in deeply. “It has been too long, for sure! We used to come here every other week.”

  We both settled down on our stomachs, and I made my phone sing out a playlist of Jimmy Buffett, Bob Marley, and other beach tunes. The sun was hot and made my skin burn a little, but it felt fantastic. It had been since before Randy had left for basic training that I had worked on my tan. I could feel my skin drinking in the missing vitamin D gratefully. “Man, I missed this, Cal!”

  The sound of the waves crashing and children playing lulled us both into a slight, sun-kissed sleep.

  Promptly at eleven o’clock, my phone reminded us that our favorite little beach bar was open for business. I got up and stretched, looking down at my tan skin gleaming in the sunlight. Luckily, both Cali and I barely got sunburns and always turned a dazzling olive-bronzed color. Cali’s natural blond curls waved in the wind, wrapping around her face as she started to pack up her things. I did the same, bobbing to “No Woman, No Cry” and basking in the beautiful day.

  We strolled arm in arm for about two blocks down the beach along the shoreline, letting the waves roll back and forth over our feet. “Cali, thanks for this!” I wrapped my arm around her waist in a half-hug. “I’m glad to finally feel normal more and more these days!”

  Curling her arms around my shoulders, Cali giggled. “What made you think you have ever been normal, Mags?”

  I shoved her playfully, giving her an exaggerated gaping jaw and raised eyebrows. We laughed until we reached the steps of the boardwalk to the bar where we both froze, startled by the sight of Mitch and Walker standing at the bar. They were surrounded by oiled-up, giggling Barbie dolls flirtatiously playing with their hair. Even though this was nothing new, a bite of jealousy nipped at my stomach. Confusion washed over me. I usually didn’t care who or what Walker was doing. But at that moment, I cared a little too much.

  I suppressed the urge to strut over to his side and shove my tongue down his throat in front of the model lookalikes just to make them go away. Brushing the covetous feelings off, I grabbed Cali’s hand and continued toward the outside bar area filled with packed high-top tables. Walker and Mitch were both smooth talkers with ripped tattooed bodies, and they knew how to flaunt them. Girls fawned over them everywhere they went. Cali and I used to always give them a hard time about having no standards, but not too many good-looking college guys did, in my experience.

  “Goodness, look at those two! Isn’t it crazy that we hang out with them?” Cali’s eyes narrowed to crinkled slits as we made our way toward the only empty table, which was unfortunately directly in the guys’ view.

  I set my bag on top of the table and waved over to Walker, who had already spotted us. “What did you do that for?” Cali whispered sharply, as if to make sure they wouldn’t hear her. Walker shot me a half-grin and nudged Mitch to rip his attention away from staring at the tits threatening to explode out of the bikini top of the blonde sitting to his left.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do, Cal,” I snapped at her through gritting teeth. I just couldn’t believe how rude she could be sometimes.

  Walker and Mitch both shot us cocky winks and grins, then turned to each other, then to the bartender. A haggard looking brunette barkeep lazily gawked at them and nodded, turning to shake clear liquid and pour it into shot glasses.

  The next thing I knew, Walker and Mitch were at our table without their tramps, handing us tequila shots, salt, and limes.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged out to play!” Mitch teased, handing Cali and me our shots. “To this gorgeous day and gorgeous women.” His smile dangled on the corner of his lips, moistened by the liquor that almost did not make it into his mouth. Apparently, the guys had been drinking for quite a while by the time we’d showed up.

  A smile escaped from my pursed lips as I leaned back on one hip. For some reason I had a soft spot for Mitch, almost like he was my annoying little brother. Mitch and Cali both loved Patrón. Walker and I, on the other hand, were more whiskey drinkers, but we all raised our glasses without complaint and threw the shots back. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I cringed and made a disgusted face, which made everyone erupt into booming laughs as I bit down on my lime.

  “Fancy seeing the two of you here.” Walker was glaring hungrily at me and leaned in for a hug that I warmly accepted. I met his gaze with a shy but subtle wink.

  I quickly diverted from Walker’s stare and started small talk with Mitch about how small a world it was—though honestly it wasn’t. During college, on beautiful days like this, Cali and I would not have been anywhere else. For a split second, I questioned if Walker had known that and had dragged Mitch there on purpose.

  The group of girls Walker and Mitch had been flirting with came over to talk to them again, reminding me why the guys would have probably decided to come there, and it was definitely not because of old friends.

  To my surprise, Walker and Mitch shooed them away, turning their focus right back to Cali and me. “What was that about?” Cali’s eyebrow rose and she pointed in the direction of the flock of bleached, tan vultures circling their next victims. Mitch and Walker both shrugged it off, telling us that they wanted to hang out with us, not fake gold diggers.

  I called them on their bullshit, but Walker nonchalantly rubbed a hand over his dark stubble. “It’s true, Mags. It ain’t no thing to just want to be around friends and not get pawed at.”

  I figured the best bet was to not question their good behavior any further, even if it was out of character.

  “I guess everyone has to grow up eventually,” Cali giggled.

  After about ten minutes of waiting on service, Walker was able to flag down a very tall, overly tan server for us. She ran over, apologizing for the wait with a perfectly whitened smile. Against her dark skin,
her teeth were almost painful to look at. We ordered a bucket of Coronas and pulled chicken nachos with extra jalapeños.

  As the server started to walk away, Walker flagged her down again, asking for extra limes with our beers. I bounced a little in my seat, delighted by his thoughtfulness and the fact he’d remembered that my Corona needed to be drowned in lime juice on beach days. It was those small gestures that reminded me how sweet Walker could be and how good a friend he was.

  Even though Cali had been a bitch about wanting to talk to the guys, she seemed to be enjoying their company. Walker and Mitch told story after story about drunken nights Cali and I couldn’t remember due to blackouts. Mitch started in on one evening that was especially excruciatingly embarrassing for me, and I almost died from blushing and laughing so hard at myself.

  Randy had been out of town at some Army training session with Walker. Since I would have most likely been bored in their absence, Mitch took Cali and me out with some of their other fraternity brothers. We took shot after shot, alternating with beers and mixed drinks while we line danced the night away. I barely remembered even getting to the bar, let alone boot stomping around the joint, but apparently Cali and I were the talk of The Saloon.

  By the end of the night, I needed Mitch’s arms around me to stand up straight. Luckily, this was while Cali and I were roommates, and Mitch drove us home. Having to carry me into the house, Mitch tried to help me into bed. Before he could lay me down, I puked all over the both of us. Trying to be respectful, he carried me to the bathroom, turned the shower on, and gave me five minutes. If I wasn’t out by then, he was going to have to come to my rescue.

  Mitch changed into some of Randy’s clothes from my room and waited ten minutes. When I didn’t respond to his knocking, he opened the door, finding me passed out and naked in the bottom of the shower with scalding water turning my skin pink. Apparently, Mitch stripped down to his boxers, showered the puke off of me, and put me into bed.