Desolate

by Guilliams,A. M.

  Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I was shocked to see Weston already moving quietly around the kitchen and to hear the sound of the coffee starting to trickle into the pot. I silently grabbed my chest with one hand and covered my mouth with the other so he wouldn’t hear me. As the hammering of my heart began to slow, I moved both of my hands down to my sides and continued to watch him. The soft hum coming from him as he made himself at home brought a smile to my face but annoyed me at the same time. He wasn’t supposed to be making himself comfortable in any part of my home, let alone my kitchen. I wasn’t ready for any of this, especially the forward approach he was using to get to know me. I needed subtle. Better yet, I needed slower than subtle. I needed nonexistent while I figured it all out. Didn’t he know women needed time to process information and suggestions before the next one was thrown at them full fucking force? Apparently he hadn’t gotten that memo.

  Without being able to take another second of watching him move around my kitchen, I cleared my throat as I walked into the room. This time he was the one who screamed. Like a girl for that matter. The high-pitched sound that came out of him reminded me of how girls sound when they were excited about the new boy band.

  He turned around, his hand covering his chest as he bent over to calm his now racing heart. Moments later, he stood upright with a huge grin on his face.

  “It looks like the tables have turned,” he replied through a laugh.

  “That they have,” I countered, unamused because I knew just how it felt for your heart to be in your throat.

  “What exactly are you doing here?” I sat down at the table, pulling the robe tighter around me and crossing my arms across my chest.

  “I decided to come by a little early today. Be the one to make you coffee for a change instead of you getting up with the sun to do it for us. I have bagels in the toaster as well.” He picked up the pot of coffee and poured the steaming liquid into its awaiting cup.

  “That’s nice of you, but you shouldn’t have done that,” I replied sternly, hoping that he’d get the underlying meaning in my tone.

  “I just wanted to do something nice,” he replied with his lip poked out, pretending to be heartbroken in the process as he brought two cups of coffee over to the table.

  He sat them down and walked back over to the counter just in time for the bagels to finish in the toaster. He grabbed them and put them onto plates along with the cream cheese he’d sat on the counter and carefully steadied all of the items in his hands while he walked slowly back over to the table.

  “Here ya go, my lady.” He placed the bagels on the table and took the seat beside me.

  All I could do was stare down at the plate and cup of coffee then back up to him. My eyes became dizzy with all of the rounds I’d made going back and forth between the items. Yes, the gesture was kind, but the question I wanted answered more than anything was what his motive was behind it all. Why did he have this sudden need to even show gestures in the first place?

  With the progress him and Clyde were making on the repairs, he’d be here another week tops and then he’d move on. Forget all about little old me. Just as he should. Then I could go back to my routine. My cleaning, my rides, and my refusal to acknowledge the grief within me.

  “What’s wrong? Did I make something wrong?” he asked as he took a bite of his bagel.

  “Not exactly,” I mumbled as I picked up the cup of steaming hot coffee and brought it to my lips.

  Holy cow. He’d actually made the coffee just the way I did. Not too sweet. Not too bitter. Not too weak, but not too strong. And with a hint of the hazelnut flavoring that I loved so much. Kudos to you, Weston Corbin, for knowing how to make the perfect cup of coffee.

  “You seem worried. What’s that expression for?”

  “I just don’t get it. You confuse the daylights out of me. You ask odd questions and want to know random pieces of information. You show up before the sun comes up to make me a bagel and coffee. But why? For what? What do you get out of all of this? And why me of all people? Surely, you could find someone with fewer problems.”

  “Wow. Oh ye of little faith. One question at a time, though. Okay. First off, I’m a good guy. I like doing nice things for people. With no ulterior motives. Just to be courteous. That’s how I was raised and my mama would kick my ass if I didn’t. Secondly, why not you? What makes you think you don’t deserve for someone to do something kind for you for a change? When was the last time that happened? And you can’t include Clyde. Thirdly, I get nothing but to see the smile and appreciation on your face because of said nice gesture. That’s all I need to get out of it. Nothing in return. There’s no hidden agenda. Just a nice gesture for a friend. I can call you a friend, right?”

  “I can’t remember when the last time someone did something nice for me aside from Clyde. It was before I moved here, that’s for sure. But I don’t like thinking about that time in my life so I don’t even want to attempt to try and figure the answer to that question out. I never said I didn’t deserve it, but most of the time you don’t hear about the people who are so lost in their own bubble having nice things done for them. And I’m so far in that bubble that I don’t think you’d reach me if you popped it. I guess I’m just not used to having anyone do anything for me other than Clyde, and I’m not sure if I like it or not yet,” I confessed, not feeling even slightly better after I’d given him the best answer I could muster up.

  “And that’s the problem. You can’t forget about your past in order to live in the future. You have to embrace it. The good and the bad so that you can move forward and be able to live the life you deserve. And from the sounds of everything you’ve been through, you deserve some happiness after all of the darkness that you’ve experienced,” he replied.

  “That’s very deep of you. But I think I happen to like living in my dark bubble over here. It’s much safer,” I cautiously replied, hoping that he’d drop this insane conversation.

  “What’s the fun in being safe? Live a little. As a matter of fact, you should live a lot. Way more than what you’ve been doing. You’ve got what? Ten months to make up for right. You don’t have to go making big strides in doing so. Just little steps until you feel comfortable with making bigger ones,” he suggested.

  Hell I didn’t feel comfortable making the small steps, let alone even attempting the big steps. I didn’t see anything wrong with living in my safe haven. And maybe that was the problem. I’d enabled myself to form the bubble in the first place, therefore making so I couldn’t allow myself to live.

  “I get what you’re saying. I honestly do, but there’s one problem with everything you’ve suggested. I like my bubble of darkness. I like being on my own, not needing anyone’s help. Why should I step outside of it? What’s in it for me if I do? Better yet, what reason do I have to even contemplate moving outside of it?” I countered, hoping like hell he didn’t have a comeback so we could drop this insanity.

  “Don’t you see? You’ve already stepped out of it. Several times. You’ve gone out in public twice that I know of in the past couple of weeks. You’ve had numerous conversations with me in that same amount of time. You’re already stepping outside of your comfort zone, and you didn’t even realize it. How about this? We could start by getting you to do something that doesn’t require you to leave the house. What’s one thing that you haven’t done since you moved here that you used to love doing? One thing that wouldn’t even require us to move from this table?”

  I didn’t want to answer that. It would dredge up too many memories. But maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to take these steps, ones that appeared small to him but were actually huge for me, in order for me to want to live again. I’d welcomed deaths door for so long I didn’t know how to walk away from just being on the other side of it.

  “I loved music. Something that you take for granted on a daily basis, I can’t even fathom to listen to. It was such an integral part of my life that when I moved here I couldn’t allow
it to be part of it anymore. I haven’t listened to one song since I shut the engine off in the driveway the day that I arrived. I couldn’t bear to hear the emotion in the lyrics. The heartbreak in the voices of the ones that sang the songs,” I confessed, not really wanting to open up this much to him but not seeing any other option.

  Without even uttering a word, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He searched for a few moments and looked back up at me, appearing to have found what he was looking for.

  “So how about listening to one song to move forward. Throw caution to the wind and get up and dance. Act crazy. But most of all just live in the moment. Not thinking too much into anything. Just be,” he replied, my heart hammering even harder with each passing second.

  Within seconds, a song that I hadn’t heard before was playing from the speaker of his phone. Before I could even blink or register what was about to occur, he jumped up out of his seat and started acting like a fool all around the room. Neal McCoy’s The Shake continued to play as he shook his entire body and danced all around the room, finally ending back in front of the table by the end of the first chorus.

  With his hand held out to me, he all but demanded, “Come on, pretty lady. It’s time to start living and having fun. One crazy moment at a time.”

  Oh, he was crazy all right. If he thought for one second I would do anything that he’d just done in front of him. Without anyone around and if I still listened to the radio, then maybe. But I’d be in the confines of my own home with no one around. Not in front of someone I’d just met looking like an idiot.

  All I could do was shake my head frantically at him as he grabbed ahold of my hand and pulled me out of the chair, the entire time he hadn’t stopped shaking his body in one way or another. Whether it was his head, his legs, or his hips. He looked absolutely ridiculous, causing me to try and hold in my laughter.

  “Come on, Magdalena. Show me you haven’t forgotten how to have fun. Let’s dance. Get your body to wake up,” he coaxed as he grabbed ahold of my other hand and started to move my body for me. It was hard for me to not admit that just watching him was infectious and made me want to join him. Finally, after his incessant moving of my body, I pulled my hands from within his own and started to barely shake along with the music, but he wasn’t having it. He held up his pointer finger and shook it back and forth while shaking his head side to side.

  “You gotta let loose or it doesn’t count.” He knew he wasn’t giving me another choice but to comply with him, as he raised his hands in the air and waved them around like a lunatic, shimmying his chest at the same time. He really went all-out when he set his mind to achieving something.

  “What the hell?” I whispered to myself as I threw caution to the wind, laughing right along with him as my body shook to the words of the song.

  When the part of the song arrived that named different locations, a throat clearing off in the distance broke me out of my dancing haze.

  “It’s about damn time,” Clyde said in the doorway to the kitchen that led from outside. The gust of wind that came along with him opening the door caused me to pull the robe tight around me and tuck the hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear.

  I turned away from facing Clyde and walked back over to the table without saying a word, embarrassment flooding me with each step. The music faded shortly after Clyde appeared out of nowhere and Weston followed me over to the table, his lips hidden within his mouth as he held in a laugh.

  “Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, girl. I haven’t seen or heard you really laugh since you’ve been here. It’s a joyous sound and an even better vision. It warms this old man’s heart to see you able to enjoy moments in life again,” Clyde said as he walked into the house, shutting the door behind him and walking over to where the coffee pot was on the counter.

  I sipped on the coffee before me and watched Clyde ready his and Weston’s thermos’ for the day, the whole time thinking about how crazy I’d acted moments ago. While it felt good to laugh again, I felt guilty for enjoying life when they couldn’t. And the second I thought about the guilt, I realized that I may need more help than I could get from myself. That I’d need guidance for how to overcome the feelings and emotions that came along with doing something I knew Andrew and Liam never would again. It was funny how just one simple dance could put things into perspective. How laughing when all you wanted to do was cry was good for the soul. Maybe, just maybe Weston was on to something. Now I just had to realize what baby steps I could take next.

  “Have a good day, Magdalena. I had fun this morning,” Weston said as he walked toward the door and slipped his boots onto his feet.

  “Thank you for this morning. The coffee and breakfast were much appreciated. But the dance was what I needed to open up my eyes a little. So thank you again.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”

  And with that Clyde and Weston went out for the day to make the rest of the repairs on the fence, leaving me here to contemplate how I could and would gradually start living again.

  Chapter 17

  How sad is it that I could honestly say I’d forgotten what it felt like to laugh? To have fun? That was the reality of my situation. I’d convinced myself that my fear was relevant. That I deserved to live a desolate life, just merely existing in this crazy world. However, Weston gave me a glimpse of what I could have if I just let go of the fear piece by piece. And that mere glimpse rekindled some of the hope I used to have. Even before I’d moved here, that fear constantly nagged in the back of my mind, waiting to rear its ugly head and make me panic. Now the fear and guilt had made me only exist in this life.

  Those were the questions that racked my brain the entire time I washed each dish and were still on my mind when I’d dried the last one. I could exist. That much I knew. But what I couldn’t fathom was moving past the hole in my heart and opening myself up to possibly experiencing it all over again. I’d lost so much and until now I was happy with my life. With the day to day mundane routine that I’d set up for myself. And in one instance, he’d had me wondering if I could start to do the simple things that bought me such joy again. Something as simple as listening to a song made my heart lighter this morning. Maybe he was right. Maybe the simple and small steps would lead to bigger and better things coming my way if I could just open up to the possibilities. My mind understood the complexity of it all, but my heart hurt just thinking about moving on. Moving past the grief and hurt that were constantly plaguing me of losing Andrew and Liam. I hid it well, never breaking down or even shedding the tears that had built up so many times, but I didn’t know if I could continue to hold them in. They were a damn just waiting to break free, and I knew that stopping them wouldn’t likely occur.

  I decided what I’d do as I sat the last dried cup back in its place. Turning on the radio wouldn’t be so bad. It may even help ease the thoughts that would creep into my head with the simplest of tasks. I didn’t have much more to tackle and this place would be completely revamped.

  I threw the damp dish towel onto the table, held my head high, and walked in the direction of my room. The more steps I took, the freer my heart felt. I reached my bedroom, I walked inside and pulled off my robe and pj’s to get ready for the day.

  Instead of pulling out a simple t-shirt, I decided I’d throw on a dressier baby doll style top that had a funky design on it and opted for jeans instead of yoga pants. After I was happy with the way that I looked, I threw my hair up in a messy bun, intent on having the best day possible.

  I walked into the spare room off to the right where I remembered seeing a small boom box in the closet and rummaged through until I found it. I hoped that it worked because it definitely had some age to it.

  With a pep in my step, I walked up the stairs to the room that needed minimal work to finish. The space should be all set to paint after today and then I could put the furniture back in place and move on to the next.

  I found an outlet in one of the corners of th
e room and plugged in the radio. I pushed the dial back to turn on the radio and was shocked to get a sound out of the speakers. Granted it wasn’t music, but it was a start. I moved the other dial in the direction of the station I intended on finding and after I tinkered with it for a few minutes, a voice came out of the speakers and announced the next song.

  “Alright guys. You asked for it, and who are we to disappoint. Here’s Carrie Underwood’s Smoke Break,” the guy announced. A song that I hadn’t heard before.

  The upbeat sound had me humming along about mid-way through the song and bobbing my head along with the music. Weston appeared to be right. But I would hold that in until I made sure. This plan could backfire at any moment, but I had high hopes that it wouldn’t.

  The more songs that played the lighter I felt. Some I’d heard years prior and others I had to take a step back and listen to. Who knew that taking a six month hiatus from listening to the radio could cause you to miss out on so much? Certainly not me. I hadn’t really thought about it. I’d began to open the boxes that I’d stacked in the corner and went through them with ease and care just like all the rest. I’d found some treasures in the other rooms that went along with the look I’d set out for each room, and I couldn’t wait to dig into the last few so I could be done with it all. But these last few boxes appeared to only have pictures and newspaper clippings. Things that I could go through after the decorating would be complete.

  Once the final box had been plundered through, I sat the boxes that I still needed to sort onto the empty closet floor and looked around the room.

  There was a queen size bed, two nightstands, and a dresser left in the room. Compared to what it looked like in the beginning, it was a complete makeover already. When I’d first started, there were boxes and containers covering every inch of the space.