by Lisa Shelby
Now that I’m older I wonder if there was somebody else? Or maybe many somebody else’s? Did he not only abuse his wife but did he cheat on her as well?
The thing that I appreciated most about my father’s trips was our time together. That she and I got to breathe. There weren’t any masks. It was just us. I got to see the real Miriam Stotts. It was a glorious sight to see, but it never lasted long. It was always so deflating to watch my mom’s metamorphosis right before my eyes. I could see her start to transform into the docile housewife the day my father would be expected home. The moment the door would open the transformation was complete and the quiet, scared, self-conscience woman was back.
It really is quite shocking that I haven’t become jaded. That I still believe in love.
Maybe it’s the fact that I had examples of true love all around me. Love that didn’t hurt. Love that lifted you up and made you better. I was surrounded by those people and those couples. Whether it was aunts and uncles or family friends, I was always surrounded by loving couples. I never doubted that love could be good and strong and that there was such a thing as the one.
Or maybe it was all of the romantic comedies I grew up on.
Or…it could be because of Mick.
I love that man with everything I am, but is that enough? I watched my mom love my father fiercely, but he still broke her heart every day. That was one thing my mother taught me, and I guess it sunk in. It hurts more when love is involved.
I didn’t feel anything when I flipped on the light and looked around my father’s room. I still didn’t feel anything when I picked up his things to pack them away. I could have been in any stranger’s room. I filled the plastic storage bin that I had brought with me, with his clothes and few personal items. There aren’t any keepsakes that really mean anything, but I still gathered it all for my mom. I knew she would want it all.
That was days ago and my emotions still haven’t surfaced. I can feel my heels sinking into the soggy grass as we stand at my father’s graveside. I just want the day to be over. I want my mom to finish grieving and finally move on with her life. We’re standing under a white tent and the preacher is speaking, but I don’t really hear the words. All I can think is that if he knew the real Randall Stotts he may not be saying the same things. There may not be so many tears shed today.
I hold onto my mom’s arm as I help her approach my father’s grave so that she can say her final goodbye and place a rose on top of his casket. I’m holding an umbrella over us with one hand and holding on to her tightly with the other. I’m waiting for her to fall apart after giving her final farewell but what she does next takes me by surprise and wakes me up and out of the fog I’ve been walking through all day. With her back to the crowd she takes a deep breath in, releases it and stands up tall with pride and strength. Wiping her eyes, she simply says, “Goodbye, Randall.”
She turns to me and smiles. “Thank you, Alexandra. Thank you for being the kind of daughter I could have only dreamed of when I was a little girl romanticizing about being a mom. Your strength astounds me, and I am so proud to be your mother.” She reaches up, touches my cheek and whispers for only me to hear. “Be happy, my sweet girl.”
She takes my hand in hers and turns us around to take our seats under the big white tent. She takes her place and as I work on closing the umbrella something draws my attention. I look up through the crowd and my heart stops. All those feelings that were buried deep within me come bubbling to the surface as my eyes take in the breathtaking man in the black suit standing in the rain behind the other funeral attendees.
He’s too far away for either of us to say anything, but by the look on his face I can tell that he doesn’t care whether or not I’m speaking to him or if I want him here. He looks determined. Seeing this beautiful man getting soaked to the bone in a downpour of rain so that he could be here to support me, if even from afar, is a sight that I will never forget.
He’s here.
My happy.
I haven’t answered his calls, his texts, his emails or his knocking on my front door and he’s still here.
All I want is too push my way through the crowd of mourners and throw myself into his embrace and let him nestle into his favorite spot. But I can’t. I need to take my place next to my mom and watch them lower my father into the ground. I know that I have to tear my gaze from his, and for the first time since receiving the news about my father the tears start to fall. The mix of the stress of the week, the moment I just shared with my mom and knowing Mick is here is the combination that it takes for my feelings to take shape and finally release themselves.
I take my seat, and my mother’s hand and wait as the casket slowly disappears six feet underground. That’s it. He’s gone. My mom is finally free.
I make a point not to look back to see if he’s still here when we stand. My mom and I take our leave and carefully make our way through the wet cemetery to the car that will drive us back to Aunt Lena’s where everyone will gather. All I want to do is find his eyes again. His eyes that tell me he’s got me and that everything is going to be okay, but I don’t let myself. He makes me feel too much.
Simply put…he makes me feel.
When we reach the car the driver hands me an envelope and opens the door. I get my mom and aunt settled into the seats of the limo and I move over to the side seat and see that the envelope is addressed to Sweet Thing.
With shaky fingers, I somehow manage to get the paper out of the envelope. I can barely read the words he’s written on the page because of my trembling hands and my tear-filled eyes.
I bring the letter to my chest and press it against my heart with both hands. I am just barely holding on, finding it hard to breathe and to not break apart into ugly sobs. I want to read it again and scour it for hidden meanings, but I can’t see a thing through the pools of loss, pain, confusion, relief, exhaustion and love that have taken residence in my eyes.
Why did I have to get this note just as all of my feelings have come crashing down on me? Why is he still waiting for me? Why did he sign it, Love, Mick?
I can feel my mom and my aunt watching me and I tell myself that this isn’t the time or the place to be thinking about Mick. I need to be strong for the woman sitting across from me. The woman who just buried her husband. The love of her life.
More importantly, I need to be strong for me.
Holding the closest thing to a love letter I have ever received to my heart while looking into the tired eyes of my mom I realize that it’s time to take control of my life. To find my happy.
If I want my happy, I have to be ready to accept it. I need to figure out who I am. Who I want to be. I need to find the me that can let herself be happy. The me that doesn’t hold everything inside and shares her burdens with those that love her. The me that would be strong enough to have an adult conversation with Mick about what happened. The me that wouldn’t be scared to take that leap and give love a chance. The me that could bring herself to call. The me I want to be. The me I deserve to be. The me that could finally be happy.
I feel almost euphoric.
It’s strange how on a day like today, I would find that piece of me that is finally ready to try. To live fully. To have no regrets. To love myself so that I can truly love another as they deserve to be loved.
I’m not foolish enough to think that Mick will wait for me to figure myself out, and if he doesn’t I’ll be okay. He’s already been so patient. He’s given me so much just by being here today. Sharing his words and love on paper. He is my superhero in my time of need, and he doesn’t even know it.
I can only hope that once I’m ready he’ll still be willing to give us a chance. To let me catch up. To finally be on the same page.
“So, how are you doing, sweetie?”
It’s been a week since my dad’s funeral. Since I saw Mick. Since I decided to do what I need to do to find my happy.
“I’m good, Olivia. Happy Hour tonight is just what I needed! Cheers!”
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We lift our glasses, clink them together and have the first sips of our drinks. She with her Moscow Mule and me with my Grey Goose and cranberry.
“Okay, now that we got that superficial answer out of the way, talk to me. You’ve been through a lot, Alex. It’s okay to not be great.”
Since my epiphany at the funeral, I decided that to be happy I have to live honestly, and that meant sharing everything with Olivia. I knew that if anybody would understand it would be her. She knows everything and has even gone to a couple of meetings with me here and there. I’m pretty lucky to have her in my life. I love Cami and Emily, and they couldn’t be more supportive, but Olivia has been through some of what I’ve been through only much worse. When she says she understands how I feel, she really does. It’s refreshing to have a friend like her. She’s such a great example of how you can turn lemons into lemonade. She inspires me every day to keep pushing forward.
“It really is true. Olivia, you know how things were with my dad. Yes, it’s sad that he died and the last years of his life were what they were, but I don’t miss him. I know it makes me sound horrible, but it’s a bit of relief, and I can only hope that my mom might start to live her life for the first time since she was a kid.”
I take a sip of my vodka-cran and wait for her to tell me what a shitty person I am. But Olivia is my girl, and she does just the opposite.
“Good, I’m glad. I’m not glad that he’s dead, of course, but I am glad that it’s brought you a bit of peace. I hope your mom’s able to find that same peace and she lets herself start to enjoy life a little bit. Not to sound crass, but your dad was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve you two. Now, the other part of my question has to do with Mick. Have you talked to him?”
“Nope, I’m not ready. Seeing him last week at the cemetery, standing there in the pouring rain even though I haven’t even returned a text in over a month, was everything. It meant so much to me, but that’s exactly why I’m not ready. I need to be strong enough on my own to give him everything that he gives me. He’s always there for me and it’s so easy for me to run away. He deserves more than that. I need to keep working on me for a while.”
“I get that. I really do, Alex. But how will you know when you’re ready? How do you quantify something like that? It’s not like there’s a test you take that tells you that you’re ready to be in a relationship.”
“I know that, Olivia. I also don’t think he’s going to sit around waiting for me. But I just know that I’m not there yet. I have to figure out why I was willing to push Mick away but I let Kevin in. I’m gonna keep going to therapy, going to group and doing my best to take care of myself. I’m still so ashamed of letting Kevin in and what that says about me. Sometimes it’s hard to look myself in the mirror. I know that I act like I’m fine, but I’m not. I’ve had moments where I was fine since Kevin, but I’ve come to realize that all of those moments were with Mick. I have to learn to be fine on my own.”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie.”
“Thanks, but I’m just a work in progress. Baby steps I guess.”
“We’re all just a work in progress, but I’m still proud of you. I know you love Mick and the fact that you’re willing to risk losing him to do what’s right, to take care of you, to be your own happy…well, that’s pretty awesome, and whether you like it or not I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, now enough about me! I’m tired of talking about me, what’s going on in your world? How’s Tom?”
After about an hour of constant chit chat and much needed girl time, I’m waiting at the bar for our next round of drinks when I notice a guy at our tall bistro table in the center of the bar. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but Olivia is shaking her head back in forth, and as he leans closer to her she’s leaning back in her chair trying to increase her distance from him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my need to get back to our table is next level. I grab our drinks, throw money on the bar and haul ass back to our table.
When I reach the table I hear Olivia say, “Like I said, I have a boyfriend and I’m really not interested.”
“Oh come on, sweetie. I won’t tell your boyfriend, scouts honor.”
He hasn’t even noticed me so I give him a little tap on his shoulder. He barely looks over his shoulder and when he does he dismisses me quickly and turns his attention back to Olivia.
Oh really…
“I believe she said she wasn’t interested.”
He stops leaning on the table and stands up to his full height. With my heels on I’m a couple inches taller than him and he has to look up at me just a little bit. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”
“Oh you didn’t, but I am asking you to walk away. She’s not interested, has a boyfriend and she’s here with me. You’re wasting your time and ours.”
“Bitch, who do you think you are?”
He steps closer to me, and puffing out his chest and I can feel Olivia panic behind him. He doesn’t scare me. I’m done being afraid. Especially, of assholes like him.
I don’t know where I get the nerve but I step a couple of inches closer to him and quietly say, “This time I’m not asking. Walk. The. Fuck. Away.” I use my index finger to push his shoulder gently. Just to make my point.
“You fucking bitches are crazy.” He turns, walks away and scurries back to the bar where his friends are waiting for him laughing their asses off after watching him not only get shot down, but also get his balls handed to him in a snack size zip-lock baggie by a girl.
I sit down and take a sip of my drink, and Olivia just stares at me with her mouth hanging open.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? That was freaking amazing!”
I feel the smile break across my face. “It was, wasn’t it?!” I throw my head back laughing. She holds her glass up to mine and we bring them together once again! “Man, that felt good!”
“I bet it did. I’d say those baby steps just took a giant leap! You go, girl!”
In this moment, I feel strong. I feel confident. I feel good and it’s because of me. I did it all on my own. I may be taking baby steps, but I’m on my way!
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Guillotine
Mick
April
I’m lost.
I no longer know who I am.
I know who I want to be.
I know who I want to be with.
But she won’t talk to me.
She won’t return my texts.
I stopped trying weeks ago.
I haven’t seen her in months.
I know that I said I needed space.
But it only took one lonely week.
One lonely week, and one night of trying to be with somebody else.
That was all it took and I knew that I couldn’t be without her.
I know she wanted me too.
New Year’s Eve was proof.
She had caught up.
She had finally caught up!
Just as she had always feared, my old ways came back to haunt us.
It ruined us.
One ghost from the past and she was gone.
After Emily explained what Alex had seen, I did everything that I could.
I texted.
I called.
I banged on her door.
I sent flowers.
I even emailed. I mean, who emails anymore?
Emily says that if she’s this upset that it must mean that she cares.
I know that it’s self-preservation on her part.
The thing is…she was the one that was going on a date.
I only did what I did because she broke my heart.
She decided to move on.
I didn’t cheat on her.
Cheating would mean we were more.
She wouldn’t give me more.
She didn’t even call me when her dad died.
Now I need her.
Last night at work h
as really fucked with my mind.
I need her.
I know it’s early on a Saturday morning but I feel like I can’t get through this on my own.
Sexy Beast: Hey, it’s me.
No reply.
Sexy Beast: I know you don’t want to talk to me but I need you, Alex. Last night at work was a shit show and I feel like I’m drowning. I know it’s early but could you come over?
Sexy Beast: I don’t know why I’m asking when you haven’t talked to me for months. I had to try though. We can talk about what happened back in January or we don’t have to. I really don’t care if we say a word. I just need you, Alex. Please…
I don’t know what I expect. She hasn’t talked to me in months, so why would she talk to me now?
Thirty minutes go by and she hasn’t replied. I can see that she received the messages just seconds after I sent them. I think that’s what hurts the most. She knows I need her and she hates me so deeply that she can’t even text me back. How did we go from where we were to here? Since when is Alex the type to not return a call or message even if it’s to say that she doesn’t want my friendship any longer? I know that it would have been hard on me too. If I had seen her with another guy…well, I don’t even know what I would have done. But we weren’t together! She didn’t want me!
I know she saw me at the funeral and I know she saw me at the courthouse for the sentencing of that douche of an ex of hers. She can’t return my text? This is not the Alex I know.
Just as my shitty day is getting significantly shittier, I hear a soft knock at my door. Or did I? Maybe I’ve actually lost my damn mind this time. It was bound to happen at some point. Maybe today is that day?
I hear the knock again, but this time I sprint across the room and throw the door open.
She’s here.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t speak.
She’s here.
Stepping out onto the porch, I pull her into my arms and hold her like I never thought I would again. Because I honestly didn’t think that I would.