This is the story I worked on this week. I started it months ago, but it became too emotional to finish at the time.
Title:
The Wedding of Weston Wallace and Brice Carpenter
The cool spring breeze sends a chill up her long off white dress with pearl trimmings. Luckily it’s so heavy it doesn’t show off the flats she insisted on wearing. Brice’s hair is up in a braided and curled up-do, with several spiral curls escaping from the front. It’s quite obvious whoever styled it for the day accounted for the heavy winds on the small coastal island.
A congregation of loved ones sits in white folded seats on either side of a managed aisle. Soft music plays while the onlookers take in her beauty for the first time. She resembles a porcelain doll in all her glory. She’s glowing with anticipation. This is the day she’s been waiting forever for. It’s the day she’s going to marry the love of her life, Weston Wallace.
The audience looks up when they hear his call. He’s saying her name from atop the lighthouse. She’s his Juliet, and he her Romeo. Their love is infinite and today they’ll pledge it in front of everyone in attendance.
Weston disappears in the lighthouse. While the crowd waits, the music begins to change. The Wedding March begins and Brice begins to make her way to the front doors of the lighthouse where she’ll meet the man she loves.
He’s out of breath and sweaty, but never looked more handsome. He’s wearing the charcoal tuxedo she picked out for this event. Even though he hates getting dressed up, West would do anything to please his beloved. Taking her hand the moment he’s close enough, a gentle kiss is placed on the back of Brice’s hand. It’s a simple gesture she finds beautifully romantic. He’s always doing little things that make her swoon. Now back to facing one another, the preacher approaches and welcomes everyone to this memorable celebration.
Brice and Weston know that in a short amount of time they’ll be wed. They’ll be one. Their hearts forever bonded by law. The baby growing inside of her belly will be a symbol of their never ending love for each other. When he or she is born they’ll have the family they planned.
Mouthing the words ‘I love you’ West holds onto both of Brice’s hands and prepares to say his own vows.
I have to stop reading. My hands are clammy and shaking, and as I rescan the beginning again I can’t help but think Kimber had talked to Brice about this day. The details. What she has me wearing. The design of the off white dress that Brice pointed out to Jamie in one of her wedding magazines. Being at the lighthouse and having me come down from above. It’s all there.
I bring my hand against my stressed grimace.
Why would she do this? Why would she write a story about her sister’s dream wedding and send it to me? Is she being cruel? Is this to remind me of what I’ll never have back?
Before I can overreact and start making threatening phone calls, I tear open the second letter and look it through.
West:
I really hope these are being delivered to you. I know you’ll never write back. I don’t expect to hear from you. Like I said in my previous letters, I just want to share these stories with someone who misses Brice as much as I do. When I write about her it almost makes me feel like she’s still here. My life is in shambles. I don’t have friends. I know you hate me. It’s never been a secret. We both share one thing in common.
Our love for Brice. I miss her every second of every day. That’s why I can’t stop writing. I need her to live on through the words. This keeps her close. I hope you can understand, and hope that at least one of these letters I’ve sent have given you a happy memory. She always went on and on about your smile.
My story today is about that.
Title:
Brice’s Bad Day
Her patients were in rare form throughout the afternoon. Her stress level was to the max. She’s stroking both temples when her husband walks through the door. When she doesn’t notice he clears his throat, while approaching the desk with a hot cup of her favorite flavor latte. In his back pocket is a pair of tickets. When they’re placed on her desk she glances then looks back to him with a huge smile. “Really?”
“Two tickets to the sold out concert courtesy of the best oystermen in Chincoteague.”
“How did you get these?”
West shrugs. “Probably my charm. It could also be how handsome I am, or the fact that I’m all around awesome. Take your pick.”
She taps on her desk, trying desperately to figure out how West even knew about this particular music group. “You spoke with Kimber didn’t you? She couldn’t keep it a secret.”
“She wanted you to have them for your birthday, so I might have went online the second they were on sale and snagged them. You can thank me later.”
Brice shoves the files off her wooden desk and gestures for him to come closer. “No, I’m going to thank you right now.”
I stop reading, even though I can already tell she’s left no details. This one isn’t as emotional as the one before it. It makes me smile and blush, because in a lot of ways it’s really how our life was. Before I know what’s happening I’m picturing the scene out in my head until it ends with Brice and I tangled in each other’s arms.
Bee’s bark snaps me out of it. I scan the room until my eyes fall back on the letters. I only have two. She’s probably sent fifty by now and I trashed every one of them. I could have thrown away fifty more stories about my life with Brice because I was being a stubborn prick.
How could I have known they’d be this significant? Kimber was always a selfish little brat. She’s the reason Brice is gone. I’ve blamed her this whole time, never once considering what it must be like for everything to fall apart for her.
I don’t want to talk to her. I refuse to write her back, but I know the next time a letter comes I’m reading it immediately. They may be a fantasy, but they belong to me. It’s what my life would have been like. It’s a bit strange Kimber is behind it, but at the same time I’m glad, because she knew Brice enough to get the details right. For just a few minutes I got to be with her again, at least in theory.
I read the wedding scene in it’s entirety at least five times.
An hour later I’m still obsessed with the heartfelt story. Kimber gave me something I’ve lost. I know they’re not real, but it’s as close as I can get to being with Brice again.
Instead of waiting for Nick to get back, I venture into town once the snow lets up. I’ve never been more eager for mail in my life. At first I’m disappointed. The post office box is empty, but just to be sure I go inside the office to make certain I have everything they’ve received for the day.
Low and behold the carrier comes back with two articles. One of them is a personal envelope addressed to me.
I don’t wait until I’m back at the cabin to tear it open and read it. While still sitting in the parking lot with Bee in the seat next to me, I rip the paper until I can pull out the folded note.
Skipping over the basic greeting as the others, I get to the next story.
Title:
Brice and West Get a Puppy
Today is the day. Brice has been up since the crack of dawn because she knows how far she and West will have to drive to pick up their new family member, which happens to have four legs. They’ve picked out the larger breed because both of them love to be active. The St Bernard has always been Brice’s favorite breed. She didn’t know it was going to happen until Weston came home from work the day before with a surprise. He found her in the kitchen stirring a pot of pasta with her opposite hand holding her large baby bump. His arms wrap around that round abdomen until he’s holding onto her and able to kiss the side of her neck tenderly. “Hey, babe. I missed you today.”
Brice stops what she’s doing and gives him her full attention. Her arms come up behind his back and they kiss passionately, like it’s been weeks since they’ve seen one another. When she pulls away her lips are shiny and she all smiles. “I missed you too.”
West w
astes no time with the surprise, because he knows Brice hates secrets. She has a habit of spoiling surprises and then feeling bad for it after it happens.
Weston pulls out his phone and brings up a picture of a Saint Bernard puppy. “There’s one male left, babe. I told them we could be there by lunch time tomorrow. It’s about a four hour drive.”
Her eyes light up with excitement. “Are you for real?”
“You know it. What do you say? Want to bring this little guy into our lives and spoil him with love and a little kid to play with?”
She’s nodding. Tears are falling down her cheeks. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
Weston takes Brice into an embrace where he places soft kisses on top of her head. She nestles her face under the nape of his neck and breathes in the scent of his body wash. It’s musky and masculine, like some kind of wood and mahogany. It’s an unmistakable combination that reminds her of the outdoors and being in love. “What should we name him?”
“What about Nelson?”
Her face scrunches as she begins shaking it. “No. That’ll never do. He needs a strong name.”
“Tyson?”
“Sounds like a biter,” she says with a giggle.
“Yeah. What about Titus?”
She snickers. “What about Titan? Like after the sea? That’s powerful and cute.”
“Titan sounds like a good match. I knew I could count on you, babe.”
“Keep calling me babe and we’ll have to leave a bit later,” Brice taunts.
“You don’t have to threaten me twice. Come on.”
I’m laughing as the story ends. It’s like Kimber gets my input when she’s writing these, because she knows what I’d say. I may be crazy. It’s possible being alone for some time after a great loss has clouded my ability to think rationally. Maybe I’m glutton for punishment. Whatever the case. I feel like I need these stories to keep coming, because I haven’t looked forward to anything in the past year like I do when I read them.
Chapter 17
Kimber
A lot can change in a person’s life in the blink of eye. People assume things about me, and maybe they were true in the past, but not today. Today I stare into a mirror and see someone I barely know. My face is a little fuller, probably from all the junk I put into my body. My little efficiency kitchen gives me the creeps. I’m afraid if I turn on the stove I’ll burn the whole place down. My hair is longer now, the streaks I used to have are all faded away. I can’t afford to go to a stylist like I used to, so I keep it my natural dark brown. My skin seems pale, and I know it’s because I’ve been living like a vampire. I sleep during the day and venture out to work at night. It’s not the ideal situation, but it keeps me out of the public eye. I no longer find myself running into locals who know my story. Things have settled in the past couple months I’ve been bartending at the motel, and I’ve even made my little space feel homey, like the bed set I purchased at the Dollar General, or the flannel sheets I had to have for their softness. I like to sleep with the loud air-conditioning cranked up to keep from hearing my neighbors fight. They’ve been known to go at it for days. Usually I fall asleep with my ear buds jammed in and at a volume that won’t ruin my hearing. I sleep with the television on. It makes me feel less alone, and I am alone, in every sense of the word.
I barely speak to my mother, and my father is a whole other story. He hasn’t given me a single call since he moved off the island. Mom says he’s seeing an ex-coworker, but she likes to gossip for something to appease her time, so I take it with a grain of salt. When I do see her she tells me I look terrible. I still haven’t told her where I live or what I do to make money. Knowing her she probably assumes it’s something elicit. It’s funny. I may serve drunks for a living, but they’re nice to me. They’re easy to talk to, mostly because they don’t know me and won’t remember the conversation the next day. It’s the closest I’ve come to having friends.
I know it’s sad. I cry a lot when I’m alone. Since I can’t afford health care, I’m unable to buy medication for depression or even contemplate going to talk to a professional. Times are tough for me, but I’m making it work. I’m doing my best with what I’ve been handed. Maybe this is the punishment for being a spoiled brat my whole life. Maybe this is my torture for ruining my sister’s future. If that’s the case I’ll gladly take it. I’ve learned this life I’m living is better than some have ever had. I used to feel entitled, but now I’m grateful for every single hard earned penny I make. I’m able to pay for my room and my car insurance. My mini-fridge is stocked with my favorite foods, which may or may not all be frozen meals that I let thaw so they cook faster.
During my off time I normally sit for hours and write. Sometimes, if I’m up when it’s daylight, I’ll drive to the beach, which is only a mile from the motel, and spend time sitting on the sand while thinking of new ideas to write about. The weather has gotten warmer. Soon the town will be filled with tourists, and I’ll make more tips than the scrawny amount I manage now. I’ve already decided I’m going to surf again. I’ll never forget the year Brice got the board for Christmas. She wanted to take it out right away, in the frigid ocean water alone. We couldn’t wait until spring came. Mom got us matching wetsuits from the local Shoal Shop. We put them on and took turns until we each figured out how to stand without falling. It took many attempts and lots of weekends where my mother sat praying we wouldn’t kill ourselves, but we eventually got it. I was first, which surprised them, because I was five years younger.
Brice told me I was a natural. She said I could use her board whenever I wanted. I know it’s still in the shed where she and West kept theirs. One day I’ll go over and get it. I’ll spend a morning out beyond the waves, reminiscing of the way life was when we had everything to look forward to. Just thinking about her that way causes me to cry. God I miss her. I need her more than I’ve ever needed anything. There’s a constant hole in my heart, and ache that will never be filled. I’ve gotten used to being sad. There comes a point when giving up is the only option. I’ve reached that point and gone beyond. There’s a black cloud hanging over me and I wouldn’t dare want to bring anyone under it with me. This is my burden. Maybe one day I’ll have a purpose again. For now, I just keep moving. It’s the only thing I can do.
Chapter 18
Weston
It’s time to make the trek to Virginia. I’ve had the truck serviced, packed up my things I’ll need, and prepared Bee for the long adventure. Mapping out the route first gave me a lot of choices for our stops. The four thousand mile journey will take me at least a week, probably more. I’m going to sightsee on my way. There’s no time limit. I haven’t told the family I’m returning, because frankly I’m not sure it’s where I want to be yet. All I know is I owe it to myself to visit. They don’t deserve to be shut out because I’m hurting. Living in another state isn’t going to change the fact that Brice isn’t ever coming back. I’ve had time to adjust, and in my own way I’ve handled it better than the first time around when I lost Mom. Sure, the bottle has been a dear friend, and I’m certain in my life it’s always going to be. Sometimes we all need to forget, or at least numb the never ending desolate pain that comes with loss.
Weather permitting, I hope to leave Alaska by the early part of next week. Nick has taken me out twice, because according to him I won’t be returning. He thinks it’s time I get back to my ‘real’ life and stop hiding out at the farthest ends of the country. Maybe he’s right. I have missed everyone, and as much as I fear being close to the cherished memories with Brice, I can’t hide forever.
It’s unknown how Bee will be on a cross-country venture. She loves to ride in the truck, but this is taking things to extremes. We leave bright and early on a Monday morning. Snow still remains on the peaks of the mountains, but most of the area has begun to thaw out. Since I flew most of the way to Alaska, I was never able to experience the beauty of Canada. I drive for a good ten hours before we stop for the night. Once we’re checked in to a pet f
riendly hotel, Bee and I get comfortable in a king sized bed. I don’t know how she sleeps so much, but the dog is out the second she hits the sheets. I reach into one of my bags and pull out some of the letters from Kimber. I’ve kept every one since I realized what they were. I know it’s crazy, but a part of me appreciates them more than any sort of support I’ve gotten since the accident. I may never know why she sent them to me. Maybe I don’t even want to know. For what it’s worth, they helped in a small way. I wouldn’t be making the trek home if not for the ability to smile about what I shared with Brice. Kimber may have been the reason she went out that night, but I can’t blame her for the drunk driver who hit them. Regardless how I feel about her, I know Brice wouldn’t want her sister being blamed. According to her letters the girl has lost everything. I was surprised to learn her parents were divorcing. I never pegged them wanting to go their separate ways, so it’s most likely a result of losing Brice. She was special to so many people. Going home will be hard. People are going to want to talk about her, and I think after a year and a half I’m prepared for it. I miss her, and maybe in order to keep her alive in my heart I need to be able to communicate about it.
When I first left Alaska it said it would take roughly seventy hours of driving. Thirteen days later I’m finally at the bridge that takes me into Chincoteague. The large billboards on the left side display the businesses on the island. One even mentions Dad’s restaurant, named after my late mother. It’s humbling to be somewhere I would know without sight. Instead of heading down Maddox Blvd in the direction of Oyster Cove, I make a right on Main and take it through town. My house I shared with Brice is only a few streets in. I make a left and park in front of the old two story home. My brothers have been mowing the lawn and keeping up with the exterior. The outside shutters look like they’ve just been painted a fresh coat of black. The nautical blue siding we replaced when we bought the place still looks new. The matching mailbox sits at the edge of the sidewalk. I remember it sitting on the kitchen table while we decorated it to match. She laughed because when we drew in the windows I wanted to put little people staring out. The thought draws a smile to my face.
Waves of Despair: Oyster Cove Series Page 10