Eventually, I would paddle back and walk into the house soaking wet, sneaking up to my room to change clothes and pull myself together. On one particular day, I walked into the house with my hair hanging in wet ribbons, dripping onto the hardwood floors. Instead of being greeted by the silence in the front room as I was usually, I was greeted with shouts of, “SURPRISE!”
Startled, I jumped and then stared at them for a few moments. “What is this?” I asked. Black and pink balloons were tied in bunches around the room, and the side table was filled with packages wrapped in shiny foil paper.
“Seriously, Livvy?” Everett said. “It's your birthday.”
I took in his words, silently trying to remember what day it was, and then realized he was right. “Oh,” I said. “I guess I forgot.”
“You might want to change before opening your gifts,” Charlotte said. “What happened to you?”
“I was caught in a storm,” I said simply, before running upstairs to change into dry jeans and a t-shirt. When I was back down in the common room and seated on one of the sofas, Sylvia handed me a gift.
“This one's from me,” she said, nearly squealing in her excitement. Smiling indulgently, I ripped the paper from the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a sparkling silver bangle bracelet with the word 'sister' engraved on the front. Sylvia threw her arm out to show me that she had a matching one, and I chuckled.
“This was just an excuse to buy yourself jewelry, Sylvia,” I said, giving her a hug. She tried her best to look innocent as the others laughed, but I added, “I'm kidding. I love it.” Perry and Ivanna gave me a beautiful cloak brooch that had belonged to their mother. It was encrusted with emeralds and featured the eagle that represented our coven.
“That's something that one of us would pass down to our daughter,” Ivanna said, and then Perry added, “and so we have.” Touched, I clutched it close to my heart for a moment before thanking them. Max's package was next, and when I ripped the paper off, my breath caught in my throat. I was staring at a beautifully-painted portrait of a woman with hair the color of a raven's wing and startlingly wise eyes. The blue crescent of the Goddess was present on her forehead, and I knew immediately who she was.
“Oh Max,” I breathed. “Morgan le Fay.” I carefully put the painting down before grasping him in a bear hug, and kissing him on the cheek enough times to make him blush. Charlotte's gift was a beautiful leather diary with gold-embossed pages. She winked at me and said, “Maybe one day you'll feel like writing the story of your life.” I laughed and told her everyone would believe it was fiction. She couldn't really argue with that.
Next, I opened Joshua's gift. It was a black t-shirt with a cute pink ice cream cone on the front. I smiled, and was about to thank him, when it hit me and I threw my head back and laughed at him.
“What's so funny?” Sylvia asked, looking at the shirt.
“Ice cream,” I replied. When she still looked at me like she had no clue what in the world I was talking about, I told her to just think about it for a while. Then, Everett handed me his gift. It was oddly shaped and I raised an eyebrow as I opened it. It was a snow-white umbrella. My eyes flicked to his, remembering the day he'd caught me going to the lake, and wondering if he was mocking me. However, he was looking at me with such a tender expression that I felt tears fill my eyes.
I knew he was telling me that he was here for me; that he'd help me get through the storm I was facing, whether it was a literal storm or the one going on in my heart. Our eyes stayed locked for just a few seconds, and then Sylvia started singing some pop song about standing under an umbrella. Suddenly, she stopped singing and started laughing.
“Ohhhh,” she said. “I get it. Ice cream. I scream.”
Unable to keep myself from laughing, I rolled my eyes at her and brushed the tears away quickly. “Someone loves me a whole lot this year,” I said, picking up the last package from the table and tearing the paper off. Inside the square box was a gleaming necklace with a charm in the shape of a sun. The middle of the sun was a glittering gemstone, citrine probably, and the sun's rays flowed out from it in all directions.
“This is beautiful,” I said, examining the paper again, but finding no tag. “Who is this from?” I looked up and glanced around at their faces.
“That one came in the mail from Staves,” Ivanna said quietly.
The knot in my stomach came on immediately and made it hard to breathe. I wanted to get up, walk directly up to my room and escape their faces. Instead, my eyes went back to the necklace. My own words to him in the forest came back to me.
You're healing and life and sunshine and summer.
It seemed to be whispering, Don't forget. I tore my eyes away from the necklace and smiled up at my family. “Thank you all. I love the gifts. They mean a lot to me.” Everyone seemed to relax at once, and I went about my day with them, blowing out candles and eating cake. When the celebration was over and the evening was winding down, I said my goodnights and went to my room. I stared at the box for several minutes before taking the necklace out and clasping it around my neck. Then I crawled into my bed and pulled the quilt up to my chin, asking the Goddess over and over to bring the darkness quickly.
A few weeks passed in much the same way; training, work, the lake, weekend trips. I went through the motions like a pro, but everything felt disconnected, almost like I was looking at the world through a foggy window. One evening as we were sitting around the table for dinner, Sylvia exhaled loudly, drawing our eyes toward her.
“Livvy, you know how we were talking about balance today?” She asked. I nodded. I'd given them a lecture on how the Universe would always see to it that things were balanced. We'd even discussed how individuals were balanced; that a wonderful person wasn't without darkness and that somewhere inside of an evil person, good could be found. I'd asked Joshua and Sylvia to give me an example of how they'd experienced balance in their own lives. I couldn't help but smirk when they'd both given me identical blank expressions.
“Well, I have an example now,” she said.
I perked up, proud of the fact that she'd initiated a conversation like this and had been actually thinking about the lesson. “Okay, shoot,” I said.
“I feel like the bad things that have happened to me in my life have had a purpose; to make me appreciate the wonderful things more easily. If there were all great things happening all the time, I wouldn't cherish them as much,” she said.
Stunned, I looked at her for a long moment and said, “That's a great example, Sylvia.”
“Yeah,” she continued. “I thought so too. In fact, I see exactly what you mean about balance and how good and bad co-exist. It's almost like the winter and summer. One doesn't exist without the other, and without one of them, we wouldn't be able to appreciate the other.”
“That's very true,” I said. “Actually, I was thinking that if we --” I stopped talking, because I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. “What did you say?”
Sylvia looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn't really need her to answer. It's almost like winter and summer. One doesn't exist without the other.
It was as if the fog from the past months suddenly cleared; like the numbness was gone and feeling had returned to me with a force and a vengeance. I glanced back and forth between Sylvia and Joshua. He'd fit into our family like the Goddess had hand-picked him for us, but he'd had reservations. He'd been terrified of what he'd done to his family by accident, of the power he held. It must have taken great courage, such a leap of faith for him to dial that number that I gave him and ask us for help. But he'd done it.
And I was thrilled. Why? Because I believed fully that he deserved the chance to have a family; to experience love. I believed that it was his Goddess-given right. If I felt so strongly about that for others, why didn't I feel that way for myself? Why didn't I deserve a chance for happiness, for love? I carefully put my milk glass on the table, aware of the fact that everyone was looking at me like I might have a seizur
e at any moment.
Then, I let myself see Jackson Vance's face in my mind. I let him ask the question over again; the same question he had asked me every single day in my mind since I'd come home. What did you leave behind?
“I left everything,” I said out loud.
“Pardon?” Charlotte asked, but I waved my hand at her.
“I'm having a...a thing here,” I said, distracted. A revelation. I was having a revelation. I had had no control over what my mother did to me that day when she took her knife from the kitchen drawer and plunged it into my tiny body. She did not want me. She had wanted to kill me. She'd shown me that I was unworthy of her love. And I had lived my life truly believing that I was unworthy. I had fit into Eagleton well too, as if the Goddess had hand-picked me, but as far as getting close to Jackson, I hadn't felt like I deserved it. I had been terrified of the pain I might feel if he decided he didn't want me. Why wouldn't he want me? Didn't I deserve him? Wasn't that why the Goddess put me directly in his path?
“I have to go,” I said, standing up from my seat. “I'll be back,” I called over my shoulder. As I rushed from the room, I heard Sylvia mumble that it was about damn time. I pulled my car keys from my pocket and jumped into the driver's seat. The stifling August heat that was trapped inside the car only lasted until I rolled down all of the windows.
I glanced at the clock as I started the car and pulled down the long, winding driveway. It was five-thirty in the evening, on a Thursday. I flipped open my phone, dialing Claire’s number.
“It’s about time you called,” she answered.
“Claire, where is he?” My voice was nervous, strained.
“He’s at Stallott’s, of course. He’s given up waiting, but it’s better late than never,” she said. I raised an eyebrow, and then a few moments later, I smiled.
“Thanks Claire,” I said.
My foot hit the accelerator as soon as I was on the main road. My heart pounded in my chest, pushing me faster. It seemed as if it had been waiting too, and now it was galloping, willing me to get there faster. My thoughts came back to me full force as I drove. I'd convinced myself in the dining room that I deserved this, but what if he didn't want it any more? What if he had already grown tired of thinking of me; of my name; my face?
It didn’t matter. I had to risk this. He was my summer, and without him, what was the point of having been the wrathful lady for my whole life? I was right about him being the sun. It was like he'd been created to light the darkness within me. The drive seemed to take forever. How had I made it through the past few months and was now unable to make it for two and a half hours? When I pulled into the parking lot of Stallott’s, night had already fallen. I sat in the car for only a few moments, long enough to gather myself. My hands were shaking and my breathing was erratic.
He was inside…only a few footsteps away from me. With adrenaline and nervousness running through my veins, I crossed the parking lot in just a few moments. The music got louder when I opened the door. The smell of smoke and beer greeted me, reminding me how much I missed this place. This was where it had all started…where our story had played out. From the first night I worked here until the last, when I’d fled with the Venator following me.
As I walked to the bar, Renee’s eyes met mine. Her face twisted and then became the picture of joy. “Oh, Olivia, you’re a sight for sore eyes, honey,” her raspy voice told me. In the next moment, Jenny and Erika were screaming and hugging me.
“It’s about damn time you got back,” Jenny said. I hugged them both, refusing to let the tears fill my eyes.
“I’ve missed you both,” I said, looking into the faces of my friends.
“Well, you’d better get on over there,” Erika said, inclining her head toward the stage. “He's probably ready for a drink.” The corner of my mouth turned up at her. She'd known what I was here for. Who was really the Wise One in this situation?
“I need two shots of whiskey, Renee,” I said, with determination in my voice. She suppressed a grin and nodded. After she supplied me with the tray, I took a deep, shaky breath.
“One sec,” Jenny said, putting her hand up. “The night you pissed Paula off, you kissed a guy. It’s the only thing I can’t figure out about you,” she added.
“Oh,” I laughed. “I had to see…what it felt like. I mean, if I would feel anything, you know.”
“Gotcha,” Erika said. “And did you feel anything?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Lips. Other than that, nothing,” I laughed.
Jenny nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not what I was getting at. I was wondering if you had his number. He was pretty hot.”
I gazed at her a moment and then laughed so hard that tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. After gathering myself and shaking my head at her, I turned toward the stage.
When he came into view, my legs felt rubbery, but I kept going. He strummed the guitar, and sang a line into the microphone. I got past the crowd and that’s when he saw me. Looking into his eyes was instant and immediate relief for me. I nearly started crying there, but held it in, breathing deeply. The music stopped.
When our eyes locked, the glasses on the tray shook and the whiskey splashed a little, but I kept moving forward until I was standing in the usual spot. The crowd was murmuring now, and with a glance at the bar, I could see Jenny and Erika watching. Oh well, I thought. If he hates me, at least the whole world could share in my humiliation.
I stood there, looking in his eyes for a moment. “I...” I started, but my voice failed me. Now I really was on the verge of crying, and the crowd had grown even quieter, making me more nervous. I took a deep breath and tried again.
“When I left, I left the only man I've ever loved behind,” I said to him. “I left my heart here...with you.” I took another deep breath. “I love you in the way I hope you still love me. I was tortured because I wasn't here with you. I've spent hours thinking of what I should have done, and when I close my eyes at night, I see your face. You haunt me until morning.” I held the tray out for him to take one of the glasses. “And James Dean really has nothing on you,” I added.
He gazed at me, and my heart pounded, waiting for his answer. After moments grew into torturous minutes, I stepped up onto the stage and took the microphone from the stand.
“Can you guys believe,” I said to the crowd, my voice loud over the speakers in the club, “that this guy won’t have a drink with me?” The crowd—some of the regulars that I recognized and some new faces—murmured more loudly now. I continued, tears spilling over my cheeks.
“Now if that’s not the rudest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said, my voice cracking. “What kind of a guy won’t toast to my undying love for him?” The crowd didn’t get loud the way they had for him. Most of them wore concerned faces and a few yelled for Jackson to take the drink. I looked at him and smiled warmly.
“Don’t you nice ladies and gentlemen think that our musician should just take the damn whiskey before I pass out on this stage?” I asked, my voice thick with tears.
A lady up front was clasping her hands together as if watching a tear-jerking movie. Then, the noise level did increase. There were shouts of, ‘Take the drink,’ and ‘Come on, DJ.’
I put the microphone back in its holder as the crowd whistled, clapped and screamed for Jackson to take the alcohol. There was a small smirk on his lips and a flame in his eyes. He held his hand out and took the shot glass. I took mine as well, and the crowd got even louder. As I sat the tray down beside me, Jackson propped his guitar against one of his machines and we clinked glasses.
At the same time, we threw our heads back and drank the fiery liquor. Jackson gazed at me for a moment. “I’ve waited so long,” he said gruffly.
In the next moment, he let the shot glass fall from his hand and scooped me up to him. The tingling invaded me and I almost sighed in relief. I wrapped my legs around him and held on to his neck. He looked at me, searching as if to see if this was real; if I was real.
“I love you Jackson Vance, and I never want to be away from you again,” I said.
“I love you, Slayer. So much.” And then, his lips were on mine. The tingling, the fury of the white lights was back, welcoming me home. And then Jackson carried me off the stage and through the cheering crowd, his lips never leaving mine.
THE END
For Slayer
Smoky silhouette against the night,
What was dark is now bathed in light.
His eyes are smiling and shrouded,
The room of his heart is not crowded…
Unlike the dusty lounge that goes on forever.
The hand runs through bristled, messy hair,
Interrupted beams of light flash in the air.
A smile transforms his face and lingers,
He sits, he caresses, adjusts his fingers…
On the frets of his guitar.
Slowly, almost painfully building,
Notes create beauty, silence is yielding.
His voice is raspy then smooth again, dancing
The strings of the guitar are not the only ones prancing…
As he unknowingly resurrects a heart.
His eyes; they flash passion into a lonely room
And his body sways to the rhythm of impending doom.
And when he closes them, his face betrays a pain
That draws out through his music and starts falling like rain…
And it lands on her.
Like a vampire, his voice draws blood
And the notes, they flow through the room in a flood.
Stop it, her heart screams, yet begs for more,
As she drops to her knees and stares at the floor.
And she knows that he wants to sign.
The last few notes leave a depth that is sweet
And across the room, their naked eyes meet.
He bites his lip, smiles gently; his eyes shy away,
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