More Than This

by Jay McLean

  “We started it when I was about 5 and we used to make Emily’s until she was about that age too.” Tears are running down her face and I wipe them away with my fingers. I try to breath through the lump in my throat because I don’t want her to see me crying. I don’t want her to know how much my heart is breaking right now. How much I wish that I could fix this, this pain she has to carry everywhere, every day.

  “Every year on our birthdays we could open it and read the notes. It was like a years worth of surprises and memories at once. We always opened them at dinner on our birthdays and we would go through them one by one. It didn’t matter if it went for hours. We laughed and cried through every single note.” She’s quiet again as she remembers.

  “It sounds like an amazing tradition,” I say, squeezing her tighter.

  “It was only for Dad, Emily and I. Mom didn’t get one,” she continues.

  I have to clear my throat. “Why not?”

  “Because, Dad said, every day, we should treat Mom like it was her birthday. That she meant, and was, and did, so much for the family, that we should appreciate her every second of everyday. Dad made her a special box, made of plastic. And we’d write notes for it, but there was so many she got to read them once a week. A lot were from dad, just reminding her of how much he loved and appreciated her. Some were from me and Emily. We used to write stupid things, but we’d always mean them. Like, thank you for washing my baseball gear, or dance gear, or thank you for encouraging me, or helping with my homework. She was an amazing woman, and Dad was right. She did so much for us. I’m glad she got to know once a week how we felt.”

  We’re both crying now, not looking at each other, looking past each other. Me, trying to imagine her life. Her, remembering it.

  “We kept the old ones from previous years in the garage. The fire took them all. That son of a bitch took away so many years of love, and memories, and laughter.” She sobs now as the anger consumes her. “I fucking hate him, Jake. I hate him so much. And I don’t fucking understand why? Why he couldn’t just let them go. My parents wouldn’t have done anything if he’d just let them go. It’s not like…” She sniffs and has to take a few deep breaths, and I sit here and let her feel, because she’s never spoken like this before. She’s been sad, and hurt, but she’s never been angry. “It’s not like he turned around and they were there and he just started shooting. It was one shot each, straight to the head. He must have known what he was doing.”

  She’s crying into me now. The tears soaking through my sweater and I hold her. Because it’s all I can do. Until both our tears have stopped and I pull away so I can look at her.

  Big brown Bambi eyes look back at me.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask her.

  She sniffs once and hands me a bunch of magazines, “Go through these and cut out anything you think a 10 year old girl would like, I’m going to make some tea.”

  *Mikayla*

  When I bring the tea back to the table, Jake isn’t there.

  “Where are you?” I yell into the rest of the house.

  “Hang on, I’ll be there in a sec.”

  I sit down and wait for him.

  “How about this, can we stick this on?” He hands me a photo of me and our friends at my graduation. Me, in the middle and him and Logan on either side, the others around them. Jake has his arms around my waist and Logan has his around my neck. Everyone is making stupid faces, cross eyes, tongues out, rabbit ears, Cam pretending to hump Lucy. Jake and I, we’re just looking at each other, into each others eyes with huge goofy grins.

  “I thought… never mind, it was a stupid idea,” he says, starting back down the hall.

  I stop him by grabbing his arm. “Jake, it’s a beautiful idea.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I take the photo from his hands.

  “Think she woulda liked us?”

  I think about this for a while.

  “No, Jake, she would’ve liked them. You, though, she would’ve loved you.” Just like I do.

  ***

  *Jake*

  There’s a knocking on the door.

  We’re in my bed and Kayla is wrapped around me.

  It’s perfect.

  There’s more knocking on the door.

  Kayla moans and holds on to me tighter, so I let her, and hold her back. She’s so warm.

  More knocking.

  Fuck. I may have said that part out loud.

  I jump out of bed and pull on sweats and a hoodie, and walk out of the bedroom, leaving Kayla to sleep the morning away before we go to the cemetery.

  More knocking.

  “I’m coming!” shit.

  It’s asshole James. At my front door.

  What the fuck?

  “Hey.” He’s looking behind me.

  “She’s asleep, asshole. What do you want?”

  He rubs his hand down the side of his face. He raises some flowers he has in his hand. “Here,” he says to me.

  “Um… thanks?” I respond, taking them.

  “Shit.” His hands go in his front pockets. “This is so fucking awkward.”

  “No shit,” I deadpan.

  He huffs out a big breath, causing his cheeks to puff out. It’s cold out and I really don’t know what the fuck he’s doing here so I start to close the door.

  “Wait,” he says.

  So I do.

  “I know it’s Emily’s birthday today. Her dad… every year for their birthdays he’d buy them flowers. Tulips to be exact. Emily got pink, Micky got yellow and Denise got red.” He’s looking down and shaking his head.

  I study him, brows knitted together.

  He looks up. “Tulips, they… they were what Kevin delivered to Denise accidentally… that… that’s why…” he trails off.

  I understand what he’s saying.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask him.

  “Because, you’re it now,” he shrugs. “You’re everything to her.”

  I nod my head once, thanking him, before closing the door.

  I make my way to the bedroom, and she’s sitting up. She sees the flowers in my hand and her eyes widen for a second before understanding dawns.

  “From James?”

  “Yeah,” I sigh, handing them to her. “But from now on, they’ll only ever be from me.”

  I kiss her on the temple before jumping in the shower.

  Chapter 43

  *Mikayla*

  We spent most of last night writing things on note cards to put in Emily’s birthday box. Some things were goofy and funny, and some things were heartfelt and real.

  Jake put a few of his own in, he wouldn’t let me see what was on them.

  Now we’re at the cemetery. It’s the first time we’ve been here since the funeral. I know I should visit more but it just hurts.

  Jake gives me a kiss on the temple then walks back to the truck, giving me a few minutes alone with her.

  I feel a little strange talking to no one, so I just place the box on her headstone and sit with her for a bit.

  Before I leave, I take out the letter I wrote when Jake had fallen asleep and slip it into the box.

  ***

  Dear Emily,

  First off, I love you, and miss you so much. You would have been 10 today. I guess it’s a little hard to write about things you’ve done, like we used to do, so I guess I’ll just write about what we would talk about if you were still around.

  I don’t know how things work, but I’m sure you know now about James and Megan, and don’t worry, I’m okay.

  Emily, I met a boy, and I fell in love. So deeply in love, it hurts. His name is Jake, he’s super cute, and you would have loved him. You all would have. Dad already kind of did.

  He is absolutely everything the books tell you that boys should be. And if you were still here today, I would tell you, that in your future, do not settle for anything less than the Jake Andrews of the world. Because they exist, and not just in fairytales.

 
I have new friends too. You would love Heidi, she loves Justin Bieber almost as much as you do. They all care about me. Like, truly care about me. They were there for me when no one else was.

  It hurts to know that you’ll never have the feelings or experiences everyone should have. Like when you fall in love for the first time, or have your heart broken. You’ll never have a first kiss or the butterflies of your first date. The first time a guy holds your hand, or holds you in his arms. You’ll never know the feeling of telling someone you love them, or them telling you.

  The worst thing, is that you’ll never know the feeling of falling. Falling so in love with someone, and I don’t mean love, I mean Love Love. The Mom and Dad love. The love that’s so instant and intense and easy and it feels like all the worlds forces collide and fate gives you a push and you’re there, in front of the person who’s part of you. Like, the world spins and your heart explodes and you want nothing else at all in the entire universe, as long as you can be with that one person all the time, and when you’re not, you just think about that person until your mind is consumed and it’s almost like you’re suffocating and drowning but in a good way, because it’s your love that’s all around you.

  God, I can’t even begin to tell you… I just wish that you could have felt it too.

  So that when you found your Jake Andrews, you would know.

  You would know what it felt like to stand in front of your forever.

  - Kayla

  ***

  *Jake*

  Emily, if you’re half the person your sister is, I would have loved you too.

  You’re super cute. I would have had to work with your dad to beat off all of the guys in your future.

  My sister Julie says that you’re one of the funniest people she’s ever met. That’s saying a lot, considering she knows me. Ha Ha.

  1D are SO much better than J. Biebs.

  Don’t worry about her at all. I promise to take care of her always. She’s my everything. And I love her so so much. Love, your future Brother In Law (fingers crossed).

  ***

  *Mikayla*

  “So, is there anything else you guys did for her birthday?” Jake asks, as he turns the keys in the ignition and waits for the truck to warm up.

  “Not really, I mean… Megan… we used to take her for ice cream, and then the family dinner where we’d do the box reveal.”

  “So, ice cream then?” He smiles at me, pulling me closer to him on the seat and kissing my temple.

  I smile and nod.

  ***

  “Do you miss her? Not Emily, I mean, Megan? Do you think about her?” Jake pays for our ice cream and we sit down in a booth.

  I think for a second. “Yeah, you know what? I really do. I mean we were best friends since like, fifth grade. I always thought that losing her would be like losing a limb. I think eventually I would have forgiven her, like I have James. But I don’t think I could now, I mean, where the hell has she been? Not one phone call, no texts, Facebook, email, nothing. Even when my family died. Nothing.”

  “Did you ask James? I mean, about her, why she wasn’t there?” he asks.

  “No, I don’t think there really is a suitable reason. Do you?”

  “Not a single one.”

  ***

  As we’re driving back home, I see a rental sign in front of an apartment block and get Jake to stop so I can take a look around.

  By now I’ve saved up enough money for security and first months rent. The location is good, it’s close enough to campus I can catch a bus and soon I’ll hopefully have a car. The apartment itself is pretty awful but with some furniture and decent decorating I might be able to make it my home. It makes Jake's house look like a 5 star hotel.

  ***

  We ended up leaving early in the morning to go to the cemetery, then spent most of the day at Jake’s parents. The two hour drive there, and then back, has us beat, so as soon as we get home we crash in bed.

  We’ve spent every night in Jake's bed since the frat party. He still won’t kiss me and I don’t know why. When I get out of the bathroom he’s sitting up in bed, shirtless, blankets bunched at his waist.

  I get in under the covers, head on my pillow, and look up at him.

  He looks down at me and smiles. But it’s a sad smile.

  I try to smile back, but there’s hurt in his eyes that I’m trying to decipher. So I just stare at him and he stares back. It seems like the longest time, us trying to communicate without talking.

  I don’t know what he’s thinking.

  I know it’s not good.

  And I almost don’t want to know.

  Because the longer I stare at him, the sadder he looks, until eventually, tears start filling his eyes and he has to look away.

  I swallow the lump in my throat.

  I don’t want to talk.

  I don’t want to ask him what’s wrong.

  Because I’m shit scared now. That this is the time when it all ends. That he tells me he doesn’t want me here.

  Or want me at all.

  There’s a pain in the back of my eyes and my throat and behind my nose from trying to hold in the tears and the sob that’s bursting to get through.

  But I refuse to listen to his next words. I don’t want to hear them, because the second they come out it will all be over and I will have nothing left, not one fucking thing.

  He clears his throat once, and I close my eyes. Wishing all the wishes in the entire fricken world that this is not happening.

  “What are we doing?” He says it so quietly, I almost don’t hear him.

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “What?” I squeak out.

  “I’m sorry, Kayla,” he says, and I move to get out of the bed, too embarrassed to be so intimate with him when he tells me that we, what ever it is we are, are done.

  “Woah, where are you going?” he says, holding onto me. “We need to talk about this.”

  I panic and get out of his grasp. “I can’t.” My eyes are still closed because I don’t want to see his beautiful face. “I don’t want to hear it Jake, please. I just don’t want to.” I’m begging, as I run to my room across the hall.

  He follows.

  “What’s going on?” Worry laces his voice but I can’t look at him.

  “I’m just… I’m sorry okay. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I just don’t… I can’t. Not today, Jake, please.” I’m almost hyperventilating.

  “What are you talking about, Kayla?” His hands are on my face, pulling me up, making me face him but my eyes are shut tight and I refuse to look.

  “Kayla! What do you think is happening here?”

  “Jake, please…” I surrender to the pain and fall to my knees and he follows me. “I don’t want to be that desperate broken girl that needs you, that’s why I needed to find somewhere else to live, but I waited too long and now you don’t want me here and I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

  I’m a sobbing mess, tears are flowing so quickly I don’t have time to wipe them away. There’s a pounding in my head and my heart hurts so fucking much, I’m sure it’s going to break through my chest and fall to the floor. I’m sitting with my knees up and my chin resting on them, hands around my head just hoping the outside world would leave me alone for just one goddamn minute so I can gather the strength to get up and face it.

  I sit and I cry, and sit, and cry some more until I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting there crying, and then silence has finally taken over and the tears have dried up and I finally get the courage to look up. And he’s there, watching me, waiting. For this stupid little girl to calm the fuck down so he can get this shit over with. And then I start to cry again.

  “Stop!” he says, forcefully enough that I listen and do it.

  “What the fuck have I ever done to make you feel like I don’t want you here? Or that I don’t want you at all?” he asks. Hurt and confusion in his tone.

>   “God, Kayla.” he starts. “I kept my mouth shut because I knew it was important to you. You, being out on your own or whatever, but it’s not what I wanted. Not for a fucking second. And you should know that, without me saying a goddamn word, you should feel that. Have I not shown you how I feel about you? Have I not been clear in the way I act towards you? I don’t know how much more I could have said or done without actually coming out and saying the words.”