The Best of Me

by Karlee Michelle

  My hands rest on the island, and I lean on them, sighing. “He’s just a friend.” She looks at me as if I’m out of my mind. “He is!”

  “Okay, I see I’m going to have to pry this out of you. How did you meet?”

  “Remember the guy I told you about that paid for my coffee?” I scratch my head, looking away before I look at her and give her a timid smile. “Surprise!”

  “What?!” she yells, and I widen my eyes at her, begging her to shut up. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “How did this happen?!”

  “Well, I had a half-day of work one day and decided to go to the diner down on Fourth. I walked in, and guess who was there.” I chuckle, recalling that first meal. “I sat next to him, and we talked. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed his company. He kind of became a great friend really quickly. We just connect. The conversation is easy, and he’s fun. It feels… easy. But I asked him if we could hang out again—I know, crazy—but only as friends. I wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

  “Are you now?”

  “No, Drew. It’s only been seven months since my husband died.” It comes out harshly, and she puts her hands up in defense.

  “Hey, I already told you, there isn’t a time-frame set around healing and moving on. It’s no one’s business other than your own. I was going to let you know it’s okay.”

  I sigh, feeling bad for snapping at her. “I know. But I couldn’t do that to Derek. It feels wrong. It still feels like cheating in a way.”

  “There’s no rush, Emery. Just have fun and enjoy yourself with your new friend. As long as he treats you right, who cares? You could use a friend that doesn’t know the ins and outs of what happened.”

  “That’s actually why I asked him to hang out. It felt…good to talk to someone and not have them look at me like I’m a lost puppy.”

  Drew’s brows pull together. “Hey, we don’t think of you like that.”

  “I know, but I still get that look whether anyone means to or not. It—it constantly reminds me of what I’ve lost.”

  “We just want the best for you, Em. It’s hard to know how to help,” she says apologetically.

  “I know. There isn’t much anyone can do because the only thing that would help is impossible.”

  Drew smiles sadly, understanding. I finish telling her about Mason. “Um, so I actually slept over at his house,” I tell her mid drink, and she starts choking, spitting the water down the sink in a constant fit of coughs, pounding on her chest.

  “I’m sorry, what the hell did you just say?”

  I laugh. “I slept on the couch. He offered me the bed, but I said hell to the no.”

  “How did this even happen?”

  “We had a video game slash movie night, and I got snowed in. My car was buried as well as the roads. I was legitimately trapped.”

  “Was it awkward? Did you see his wiener?”

  Now I’m the one choking. “What the heck is wrong with you?” Drew’s laughing so hard, she has tears falling down her face. “No, I didn’t see his...wiener. And it actually wasn’t awkward. It was…fun. But the guilt. It ate at me for days.”

  “I’m sure this is a thing—something you have to work through. Just make sure whatever you do, you do it for you. Don’t worry about what other people think. Like I keep saying, there isn’t a time frame on healing. Just enjoy yourself and let things happen naturally. I think having him as a friend is a great idea. Just keep healing.” I smile at my sister, thankful for her.

  But the healing part? That means confronting the pain, and I just can’t bring myself to do it.

  querencia—a place where one feels safe,

  a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn

  Mason

  “Hi, Momma.” I kiss her cool cheek as she cups mine.

  “Hi, my boy.” Her salt and peppered shoulder length hair makes her blue eyes stand out. I’m a copy and paste of my dad, and Tristan is all my mom.

  “Where’s Dad and Tristan?”

  “Dad’s in the back, and Tristan ran to the store. I forgot butter.” She looks away with a knowing smirk.

  I laugh out loud. “You think you would learn. Every year, you never have enough butter.”

  She playfully glares at me before waving me away, getting back to cooking in the small outdated kitchen. Every time I come here, I want to get them a place they deserve. One that isn’t a trailer that’s falling apart. One with a working heater that my dad doesn’t constantly have to check during the winter.

  I pad down the tiny hallway and into the living room where my dad sits, beer in hand, watching the game.

  “Who’s winning?” I sign to my dad as I sit down next to him, and he leans forward, his big belly gets in the way though, and I chuckle as he pats my shoulder with a big toothy grin on his face.

  He signs back, “Good to see you, son. Damn Lakers can’t make anything today.”

  He rolls his eyes and settles back into the game. My dad was born with complete hearing loss in his left ear, and only about twenty percent hearing in his right, so we grew up learning ASL. It’s come in handy several times as a paramedic.

  Ten minutes later, Tristan walks in with a big smile on his face, signing to my dad. “Hi, ya old man.”

  My dad’s big toothy grin is back as he swats at Tristan and hugs him. I smile at the exchange. My dad was never the strong, silent type. His cup overflowed with love and adoration for his wife and kids—nothing made him happier than us three.

  “Sup, bro.” Tristan slaps my hand before shaking it.

  “How’s it going? How's the place?”

  “Fucking awesome.”

  We’re both signing still, even though we’re by each other so dad can talk too. He can read lips, but signing is just a habit we don’t even think about now. “That’s great, Tris. I’m proud of you.”

  His lips smile tightly. “I’d be even better if I didn’t mess up—”

  “Nope. Stop,” I say and sign. “Stop beating yourself up about the past. You owned up to it like a man, and you’re handling it. Keep handling it. I know I got upset, but it’s just because I worry about you.”

  Tristan had a slip up recently with his sobriety, but he didn’t hide it. He told us and asked for help. I was so disappointed, but I looked at the evident change—he reached out to us, and that was a first. He’s been solid ever since.

  He purses his lips and nods before stealing a drink of my dad's beer. Dad smiles, and it makes me chuckle. He’s so genuinely happy, just a big smiling teddy bear.

  “So, I met a girl,” I say through the side of my lips quietly.

  Tristan’s head snaps to me. “Is she hot?”

  “Stunning,” I say, and he chuckles.

  “Ooh. What’s her name?” he says as he chomps on chips and salsa.

  “Emery.”

  Tristan chokes on his swig of beer. Once he gets it together, he clears his throat. “Sorry, went down the wrong pipe,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

  I chuckle. “She’s… amazing. We’re not dating, but I really like her.”

  Tristan turns and smiles at me before squeezing my shoulder. “I’m happy for you, bud. You deserve it.” His genuine comment makes me smile.

  Mom comes in a moment later, signing and speaking, “Get your butts to the table, boys. Lunch is ready.”

  My family has always done lunch for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We like to graze on the food all day. Dad kisses Mom's cheek before we sit at the table and dig into the ridiculously large amount of food for four people.

  “Ooooh, Momma. I’ve been waiting for this since Thanksgiving.” Tristan rubs his hands together, and my dad follows suit.

  “This looks fabulous, my love,” he signs, but his muffled voice says it loud and proudly. My mom smiles, raising her hand to sign, ‘I love you,’ and he does it back. All I want in life is a love like theirs. They don’t have a lot, but it doesn’t matter because they have each other. That has always been enou
gh for them.

  After we eat, we sit in the living room and open gifts. Tristan and I have always agreed Christmas is about them once we got older. They sacrificed new clothes, shoes, and essential things just to give us a great Christmas. We never realized it when we were young, but we started noticing as teenagers, and we made a pact that it would always be about them from then on.

  “Open mine first!” Tristan says and winks.

  “You shithead. I should’ve known,” I whisper out the side of my mouth, and Tristan smirks. We went in on their gift together this year. I should’ve known he’d get her something extra, the bastard.

  “You guys do too much.” My mom glares, but she secretly loves this. Her smile makes it all worth it. She opens a tiny heart-shaped locket and opens it with a picture of his face as a baby.

  “Tristan! Oh my. This is beautiful!” She studies a bit more, and her brows furrow. “But you do know this is Mason in the picture, right?”

  Tristan stands and questions her. “What?! No way! That’s me!” The laugh that leaves me is so deep I feel like I’m going to pass out. My dad and I are rolling, tears falling down our faces as we hold our stomachs.

  “Son, I know my babies. You two may be twins, but you don’t look anything alike. Besides, your little freckle isn’t by your eye. See?” She gives Tris the locket, and he scoffs.

  “Is this a damn joke? Son of a—”

  “Language!” My mom chastises him and joins Dad and me in our fit of laughter.

  “Oh, my God. This is the greatest thing ever,” I say as I wipe my eyes, trying to come down from the high of laughter.

  Tristan rolls his eyes, fighting the growing smile on his face.

  I elbow him, laughter breaking up my words. “You tried…to one up me…and gave mom a locket…with my picture inside.” I can’t stop, and now we’re all in a fit.

  “Oh, man. Well, Mom and Dad, Tristan and I actually chipped in on your gift together.” I pause to catch my breath again as I take the envelope out of my pocket and hand it to them. They open it, and their smiles disappear.

  “You boys did not! No! No, no, no.”

  “Oh, we did. And you’re going to accept it graciously,” Tristan says with a smile.

  My mom starts crying, and my dad hugs her as they hold tickets to a ten-day cruise in their hands. I kneel in front of mom, tilting her chin up, and sign, “No one deserves this more than you two. You leave in two days. Pack a bag and enjoy yourselves.”

  They wrap Tristan and me in a hug, repeating how thankful they are. Their happiness was all I needed.

  The melodic knock on my door makes my heart jump. Although Emery and I have become great friends, I can’t help the way my words get caught in my throat, or the way my pulse rises when she’s near. Life is funny like that. It puts this amazing woman in my life, close enough to touch, but far enough that I can’t have her. But I would rather have her near me than nothing at all. Unlocking the door, I open it to see her wavy brown hair framing her soft, smooth skin. Her light brown eyes glow against the illumination of the snow.

  “Hey, you. Get in here you must be freezing.” She comes in and sets the present down before she hugs me. I savor every second of it before she pulls away.

  “Merry Christmas! Open it, open it!” Her straight, white teeth brighten her already show-stopping smile.

  I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Merry Christmas. Let me turn the stove off, hang on one sec.” She follows me into the kitchen with the present, inhaling and closing her eyes.

  “That smells so good. I’m staying, what’s on the menu?” She’s not looking at me, too busy taking off her scarf and jacket, and settling on a barstool at the island. The grin on my face almost hurts. I love that she feels so comfortable around me now, and the feeling is reciprocated. There’s a certain bond a friendship adds to a dynamic, and it’s one I don’t think can form if you jump right into a relationship. You get to see the person for who they are as an individual in their own space.

  “What?” She grins.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head and wipe my hands off before I hold them out. “Gimme.”

  She’s about to hand the gift over before she snatches it back. “Crap, I just got really nervous. What if you hate it?”

  “I don’t think I could hate anything you get me, Emery Jean.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “You haven’t seen what I got you.”

  “Just give me the damn box.” I laugh and snatch it from her.

  As I open the box, I see two more boxes inside. One is slightly larger than the other. “Open the smaller one first,” she says as her shoulders shake with laughter. She buries her face in her hands, only peeking an eye out through her fingers.

  I tear into the smaller box and pull out the tissue, and when I see what pure brilliance lies in the box, I lose it. “Oh, my God. Emery Jean! What in the actual fuck?” I can’t stop laughing as I pull out a white pair of button-down silk pajamas with her face all over them.

  Emery can’t stop laughing, and neither can I. “This is the most glorious set of PJ’s I have ever laid my eyes on. I’m putting them on.”

  “You are not!”

  “Try and stop me. I’m wearing these everywhere, booboo.”

  “Oh, God, this is going to backfire.”

  “Oh, yes, it is.”

  I quickly change in the bathroom and walk out, modeling my new outfit.

  “Oof, you’re some good lookin’ wool.” She laughs as she takes in the glorious sight that is me.

  “We’re totally watching The Money Pit now that you say that.”

  She grins again. “Deal. Okay lady killer, go open the next one.”

  “Honestly, you could have stopped at this. This is the single greatest gift I’ve ever been given.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she can’t hide the smile, and fuck, it feels good to know I put it there. Once I get back to the gift, I tear open the second box. “Emery Jean, I will whoop your ass if these are what I think they are.”

  As she shrugs, her cheeks turn pink. She’s nervous, and it’s adorable. “You’ve mentioned them a couple times, and I’ve seen your shoe rack, you have more pairs than me.”

  I hold the Tyler Lace Up Frye leather boots in my hand and drool. “There is no way I can accept this. You shouldn’t have spent this much on me. You’re freaking insane. This is way too much.”

  “The only way those go back to the store is if they are the wrong size. And they shouldn’t be because I raided your shoes to double-check.” Emery’s lips are pursed, and she’s ready to deliver all the sass she has to if I put up a fight.

  “Are you serious?” She nods her head. “Damn. Thank you, Em.” I wrap her in a hug, and she hugs me back, neither of us moving away from each other.

  It’s the longest we’ve hugged. Hell, the longest we’ve touched, and every inch of my lonely soul warms from her embrace.

  “Mason?” Her unsure voice breaks the silence.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t let go of me yet.” Emery’s voice cracks, and so does my heart.

  “You’d have to let go first, Emery Jean.” I feel what I thought was a chuckle into my chest, but her body keeps slightly shaking, and I realize she’s crying. Squeezing her tighter, she fists the back of my button-up and cries into me while I hold her. I don’t kiss her head, and I don’t tell her it’s going to be okay because I don’t have that right yet, and I refuse to step over the lines when it comes to her. But she doesn’t want me to let her go, and you can damn well bet I’d hold her until the sun comes up.

  Minutes later, she pulls away and wipes her eyes. I don’t have to ask her what’s wrong, I already know. It's her first Christmas without her husband, and she’s been so busy all day I’m assuming it’s just now hitting her. If that means she feels safe enough with me to let her guard down, then hopefully I’m doing something right.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I tip her chin up with a soft smile. “Hey. None of th
at. You don’t have to be, remember?”

  Emery’s lips pull into a quick smile. “Thanks. I’ve been doing my best to not think about it today. I guess I really needed that hug.” She laughs but neither of us really find it funny. It’s heartbreaking.

  “How about this. Go sit, make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna get this ready, and we’ll eat, and you can tell me all about him.”

  “What?” She looks worried, or maybe taken back.

  “Yep. Go sit.” I smile at her and turn to finish dinner. Once I plate it, I bring it over and sit next to her.

  “This smells and looks so good, thank you.”

  “Of course.” I take a bite. “What was the hardest part about today?” I ask her.

  Emery thinks for a bit. “I don’t know, I guess the subtlety of his absence. It was like my left side was cold all day long, constantly reminding me that he’s not here. We loved Christmas. Well, I love Christmas, and I ended up getting him to be just as obsessed as me.” She laughs, thinking about the memories before looking down at her plate, moving the food around. “I didn’t hang any decorations this year. I wanted to, but every time I went to get them, I froze and anger would surge through me.”

  “That makes sense.” I shrug. “It makes complete sense. You spent—how many years were you guys together?”

  “Like, nine. Didn’t make it to my first anniversary, though.”

  “Emery, you spent nine years with a man you absolutely adored. To think you were going to be able to zoom through the holidays unscathed is unrealistic.”

  Emery nods, finally taking a bite. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. I wake up every day, wondering if today is going to be the day that this whole thing stops hurting. It’s constantly there. A heaviness in my chest or an empty feeling of him not holding my hand. It’s exhausting.”

  “You’re suppressing it.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I have no right to tell her what she’s doing.