The Crashing Series

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  “I’m sure Dad won’t mind that at all.” Every tooth in Mitch’s mouth could be seen as his delight with the situation spread from ear to ear.

  I smiled at the two of them. “I’ll make him put it in my contract.”

  As I made my way up the stairs, a warm feeling spread through me as I heard Cali and Mitch giggling and carrying on in the family room. It was so nice to see how much they were starting to care about each other. Then the lonely longing for Walker smashed hard into me as I realized that I’d had exactly what Mitch and Cali were starting to fall into.

  The steam of the shower wrapped around my body as I sat on the stone seat, my hair dripping with suds as I shaved my legs. Thoughts of Randy, Walker, and the terrible situation that we had all fallen into consumed me. The only reason I’d even decided to shave my legs was to have an excuse to hide away in my warm solitude of despair for a little bit longer. There was no way to shake the feelings other than to let them follow their natural course. The old saying is “time heals all”, and I’d been hoping that it was actually true, but I was beginning to think that it wasn’t the time that healed but what you did with the time that actually made the difference. There was no bringing Randy back, but there was a possibility of saving Walker. I was just not sure how strong I was or how ready I was to confront him yet. I was scared, nervous, and mad, but the little ember of hope was starting to smolder just a little bit brighter each day.

  A gentle tap broke through the sound of the running shower.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mags, we have to get ready to go soon. I just wanted to let you know.” Cali’s honey-coated voice came through the bathroom door as I rinsed off the remaining shaving cream from my legs and turned off the water.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I wrapped one towel around my head and another around my body. I took a sharp breath in and wiped away the last of my tears as I peered into the mirror. Someday this will all be easier. Just not today.

  Cali was digging through the closet where we had put all of our clothes, trying to find something to wear. She had laid out a few skirts and blouses on the bed already.

  “Can’t find something, Cal?” I finished drying off and slipped on my underwear and bra while looking at the different things Cali had already picked out and rejected.

  “Ugh, yeah. I am trying to find a purple blouse I love, but I think I forgot it. I hate not having all my crap! It’s so frustrating.”

  “Yeah, I know. At least we have each other’s clothes to mix and match with.” I pulled on a pair of skinny black dress pants and a white button-down, not wanting to have to put too much thought into the evening.

  “I’m sure there are going to be people in jean shorts and t-shirts. Whatever we wear will be fine.”

  Cali sighed and turned to me. “You’re right. I’ll just wear this.” She held up a light-blue maxi dress and white wedges.

  “Perfect.”

  We did our hair and makeup in silence as fast as we could, but we were still running a little late.

  “Hey, ladies, we have to leave now,” Mitch called to us from behind the door.

  Cali grinned at the sound of his voice. “Come in. We’re almost ready.”

  We were both putting mascara on as Mitch opened the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring at Cali’s butt as she leaned slightly over the dresser. “I have to say that I’m sure you two are going to be the hottest women at this GriefShare thing.”

  “Oh come on, Mitch. You’re just being nice.” Cali spun around to Mitch and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing his cheek.

  I threw all of my makeup back into its bag and followed Cali and Mitch down the stairs. “I really don’t know if this is going to be a good idea.” I was nervous, and I really wanted to find any excuse to not go.

  “Come on, Mags. You don’t have to talk. We’re going to be supportive of Buck anyhow. No one in the room needs to know that we are all messed up and dealing with our own shit.” Cali gave me a sweet smile as she opened the front door.

  “All right, but I reserve the right to storm out of the room crying.”

  Cali hooked her arm into my elbow, whispering, “Deal,” in my ear before we made our way out to Mitch’s running truck, where Buck was waiting for us.

  We pulled into the YMCA parking lot right on time. The four of us rushed in and took our seats in the back of the large meeting room right as an informational video about the program started to play. Once the video ended, a lanky man with a long, graying beard stood up and flicked on the lights.

  “I would like to thank you all for coming. It is nice to see a few new faces joining us this week.” The tall man quickly waved to us and then continued. “I am Emery. Welcome! Why don’t we all form a circle with our chairs and introduce ourselves.”

  In total, there were about twenty people in attendance, ranging in ages from younger than I was to well into their senior years. We all did as instructed and shuffled the chairs around until we were all facing each other in a circle. There was a calm about the room, a hushed understanding of why we were all there. It was comforting to not see looks of pity in people’s eyes, but looks of knowing, of empathy. Emery gave the four of us workbooks and let us introduce ourselves to the group.

  Once the sharing began, my breath was taken away. Each person was stuck in their own limbo of grieving, but with this group surrounding me, I finally did not feel alone in my loneliness, longing, and sadness. It was amazing to be able to know that other people understood.

  And then I saw her, a silver-haired woman staring down at her feet, fumbling with the hem of her skirt. Emery looked to her once there was an opening for the next person to share.

  “Mavis, do you think you’re ready to share with this group?”

  The frail-looking woman’s eyes shot up and locked with mine. They were a glassy, pale bluish-gray, absolutely stunning, and completely broken. I recognized their look from all the times I had caught sight of my own grieving in the mirror.

  “Yes, I think it might be time.” With a shaking voice and trembling hands, she started to dive into the story of her grieving, the story of how she’d been widowed.

  Her husband had been in a terrible work accident, where he’d been run over by a cement truck. Before I knew what was happening, I was across the room, reaching my hand out to touch her shoulder. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I bent down next to her. She wrapped her fragile hand around mine.

  “I am so sorry for your loss.” My voice broke out, crinkling and weak. All eyes were focused on me, but I ignored it. I spoke just to her, knowing her pain and loneliness all too well. The expression in her eyes matched the one I’d seen glaring back at me in my mirror for far too long. “I lost my husband in an act of unnecessary carelessness while he was working as well.”

  We stood together, wrapped up in an embrace for a few moments, until the other members began to clap. In that moment, I finally knew that healing was not just a wish for me any longer. The process was starting.

  Ten

  The rest of the evening after our first group meeting went by in a blur. As I sat by myself in the family room well after the rest of the household was fast asleep, I felt every fiber of my sanity crumble to dust in my hands. Even with all the strides I had been making, there was a knife jabbing and dull pains that plagued my heart and mind. I could barely stand it any longer. All of the sleepless nights I had spent missing Randy were running into missing Walker, and every other emotion that came along with those two situations colliding was starting to drive me insane. I could no longer use Cali’s and Buck’s situations to mask my real feelings and curb my own terrible thoughts.

  In the darkness of the Katzes’ home, I made my way to Buck’s home office and turned on the computer monitor. The bright glow instantly burned my tired eyes as they strained to focus. I was determined to get something, even if it was a door slammed in my face by a mother protecting her son. It had been days since I had
seen Walker, and his damn phone was still going straight to voicemail. He was not going to get away with this that easily. Fucking coward. And there it was. My anger had returned, settling right next to loneliness and sadness, smacking me awake.

  I searched the white pages online until I found Beverly and Chet Waylett right outside of Harford, Georgia. My mind was set. I was going to find him. After plugging their address into the navigation in my phone, I got dressed into jeans and a tank top, pulled on my most comfortable boots, and grabbed my leather jacket. I scribbled a note to Cali, Mitch, and Buck:

  I found Walker’s parents in GA. I’m heading there. I will call you soon and fill you in on everything I figure out. Thanks for everything, guys. I know you’re not going to approve, but this is something I have to do. Love you all!

  I left the note on the kitchen table and started to drive into the night. Less than four hundred miles and six hours were all that stood between me and the answers I longed to get. Even though I was not sure if I was ready for them, I needed them. I drove for miles, completely oblivious to what was going on. My mind was ping-ponging from all the possible scenarios playing out. My thoughts jumped from another physical encounter with Walker all the way to him scooping me up in his arms before we rode off into the sunset on a white horse. Anything was possible. I wished that I were driving the old truck. Even though the Mercedes was purring like a kitten and did not mind the extra push my foot was giving to the gas pedal, I just longed for the comfort that old rusty box gave me.

  Right over the Florida-Georgia line, I pulled into a little gas station, which seemed to be the only thing for miles. I climbed out of my car—which looked extremely out of place in this country setting—and stretched my back out. The fall night air had been thick and muggy in Florida, but I’d figured by the time I reached the Waylett household there might be a nip in the air, and boy, was I right. I grabbed the leather jacket out of the back seat and pulled it over my chilled body. Right as I inserted the nozzle to start filling up the Mercedes’ tank, a ding sounded as the store’s door opened. My stance hardened as a pair of boots stomped quickly in my direction, crunching gravel with each step. It thundered loudly in my ears as a mild panic rose up in my chest. It wasn’t until the man was a few steps away that I realized why my body had reacted so harshly to the gas station attendant.

  “Ma’am, are you lost? Haven’t seen a car like that in these parts, well, ever.” The deep drawl whisked in my direction from lips I could picture perfectly.

  I gasped as I whipped around, coming face to face with Walker, only inches separating us. His jaw came unhinged as he stared at me, his arms crossed low on his chest. My eyes shot down to take in the sight of his hands shaking. I backed up as fast as I could, bracing myself, trying to stay upright on buckling knees. My entire body was trembling, not knowing what to do or say. Even though my mission had been to find out where Walker was, I had not planned on finding him; I’d just planned on information.

  He took a jerky step toward me and I cringed, flashes of our last encounter scorching my mind. Seeing the scared expression forming on my face, he stopped, throwing his hands in the air.

  “Mags, what the hell are you doing all the way up in Nowhere, Georgia?”

  He just stared at me, waiting for my response. I choked for a second from cotton mouth and a drying throat, no words forming on my lips as I locked eyes with someone I was madly in love with and scared to death of all at the same time.

  Finally, I stood up straight, looking Walker dead in the eyes, building up a little bit of courage from somewhere deep down in my gut. My stomach was churning and my hands were shaking, but I was determined to get answers, and staying silent was not going to get me anywhere. I had already come this far. It was time to leap off this cowardly cliff and hope that there was a soft landing waiting for me.

  “I came to find you. I found your parents’ address and I drove through the night. I need answers, Walker.” To my surprise, my voice was level and calm.

  Walker rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around a few times. “All right, Mags. Look, this is my station. I’m workin’ it this morning. Want some coffee?”

  A small smile tried to fall onto Walker’s mouth but it failed. As he dug his hands in his pockets, waiting for my answer, I stared and lost myself in thought for a moment. I was snapped back to reality when the sound of tires throwing gravel from the road to the filling station rumbled next to us.

  “Shit-fuck!” Walker cursed under his breath as he put a hand on my shoulder. It was the first time we had touched since his arms had stopped carrying me during my panic attack and it felt like a fire had ignited between us again, spreading from his handprint all the way through my body.

  I looked up into his scared eyes.

  “Mags, I need you to go inside and sit behind the counter—right now. I will be in there soon. Please stay in there.”

  He gently pushed me toward the store, and I shuffled my way in, the doorbell chiming over my head as I entered. I peeled my jacket off in the heated air of the tiny store and threw it onto the countertop next to the register. Right when I was about to head for a folding chair behind the white counter, I heard yelling, and curiosity got the better of me.

  I turned to look out the window to see Walker, red-faced and within inches of the driver, poking him in the chest with his index finger. With both hands, the driver shoved against Walker’s chest, screaming something that sounded like, “Fuck you!” The driver was a few inches shorter than Walker and looked to be built the same way. I craned my neck to see the driver’s face, but he was turned away from me just enough for my efforts to be futile.

  After a quick shoving match, Walker glanced at me standing behind the closed glass door and his eyes got wide before he quickly shifted his attention back to the unwelcome guest, who now was looking dead at me, a fiendish grin plastered on his face. This guy looked identical to Walker, just a little bit younger and with hollowed-out eye sockets and cheekbones. The guy turned back to Walker, pointing over at me, and I gasped, my hand flying over my open mouth. Walker gripped the guy’s stained white shirt and punched him hard in the stomach. Falling back onto his pickup, the evil-looking younger version of Walker started pointing in my direction and screaming at Walker, who was finally walking toward the door. I gaped at the scene that had just unfolded in front of me. As Walker walked toward the store, I felt relieved. Then the beat-up work truck kicked up gravel as it sped away angrily.

  Walker pushed the door open. A stern, pissed-off line pulling at his lips made his brow crease. “Mags, why can’t you ever just listen to me?” He sighed and shoved past me to the coffee pot sitting up on the counter on the other side of the small store. He poured two Styrofoam cups full and turned to look at me, holding mine out as he leaned up against the counter.

  I took the white cup filled with an aroma that smelled like heaven after the long drive and sleepless night. I took a deep breath in before trying to stammer out an explanation. “I-I just… I’m sorry.” My gaze fell from Walker’s gorgeously loving eyes to the dark goodness clutched in my hands, and suddenly I felt sick again.

  Walker set his cup down and shifted so he was facing me, taking both my shoulders into his grasp. “Mags, why are you here?”

  I sighed, took a moment, and then made the eye contact I knew Walker wanted. “I already told you, Walker. I need answers.”

  Walker’s hand rubbed over his crew-cut scalp a few times as he groaned quietly, finally snapping his gaze up to meet mine. “All right. Start asking.”

  Walker went to the door, switched off the open sign, put one up that said “Out To Lunch, Be Back In An Hour,” and kicked the deadbolt in the floor with his steel-toe boot. After pulling down the shades to block us from the world completely, he motioned for me to follow him behind the counter, where two folding chairs were set up. He huffed as he took his seat before slurping his coffee, watching my every move. I took my chair and moved it a few inches farther away from his, then sat,
eyes locked on to his gorgeous emerald stare. God, I missed those eyes.

  “Won’t your customers think it’s weird that you’re out to lunch at nine in the morning?”

  The right side of his lip curled into an almost smile before he scowled again. “Nah. No one will be in but truckers, and their hours are all fucked anyway. No one will notice.”

  The yellow glow coming from the dirty lights accentuated the tired circles under his eyes and the faint greenish-purple bruise that was heeling on his cheek.

  “Where’d that…” I trailed off as I reached for his face, not completely realizing what I was doing until halfway through.

  Quickly, he recoiled from my almost touch and snapped, “It ain’t nothing to bother about. Now let’s talk.” His drawl was thicker than usual from being wrapped in his roots again, and the exaggerated annoyance at my care for his health threw me off for a moment.

  I took a big breath in and then sighed. “Well, for starters, what the fuck was that about out there?”

  Quickly, Walker shook his head. “Not ready to talk about that. Move on.”

  A flick of irritation hit me hard, but I forced it away. “Why’d you run away? Nothing will change what you did to Randy, but you left me to pick up my pieces all alone when you promised to never hurt me. I just don’t fucking get it.” I got up out of my chair, the frustration boiling in me too much to contain in a chair.

  Walker just sat for a moment, staring at his hands, which were starting to shake, his jaw working and flexing slowly as he tried to cool his emotions before speaking. I knew the look that was dancing across Walker’s face, and it scared the shit out of me. His rage was something I was not prepared for or strong enough to deal with anymore. He would be able to break me.

  To my surprise, his breathing started to slow and even out. Then he reached his hand out to take mine. It felt like a fire kissing an open wound, but I was a moth to the flame. I turned to him, taking a step closer, stroking his gruff, stubble-ridden cheek with the back of my hand.