by Mj Fields
My eyes don’t leave his, and his don’t leave mine.
“You’re a brunette.”
“Blonde was a phase.”
“A three-year phase?” He smirks and this time it doesn’t leave his face. It’s real.
“Off and on. But sometimes a girl needs to go back to her roots.”
“You look amazing.”
“You do too.” My chest tightens.
“So you’re imagining wedding gowns nowadays?”
I shrug. “Every girl does at one time in their life.”
He nods. “You pissed at me?”
“For leaving me and not saying goodbye? Why would that upset me?”
“So that’s a no.”
“That’s a no.”
“Thank you.” He runs his hand though his hair. “So.”
“So.”
“How’s Stella?”
I smile. “Her little brother is living with their mom and she’s graduating in a few weeks. She’ll be here after Christmas break starting her first semester.”
“And how’s living in la Placard?”
“Honestly a bit lonely.”
He scowls. “And where’s Celine?”
“I let her go,” I shrug.
“Natasha,” he hisses.
“Joking, she’s good. She’s been juggling lovers.”
“Juggling lovers, huh?”
“You were right about Shana.”
“I’m right about most things.” I get another grin.
“But your last hook up, the chick you brought to the wedding–”
“The lesbian I brought as a date, because I was told you were bringing one.”
I can’t help but giggle, “By who?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“Whatever with your never minds.”
He smiles then from ear to ear and God, it’s beautiful.
“Do you miss me, Oliver?”
His smile softens, and he whispers, “Every day.”
“Oliver?” When I say his name, to ask him if maybe there’s a chance for us, someone else in the background does as well, a female someone.
He looks confused and then turns around and stands. When he audibly gasps, I hear the female someone else do the same thing.
“Oh my God, it is you!” she exclaims.
“Grace?”
I see her run and embrace him, and I see his arms wrap around her and hear him whisper, “Grace.”
If the sound of my heart cracking completely open wasn’t deafening, I’m sure I would hear words from two star-crossed lovers. Of a love that survived years of trials and tribulations. I would hear them pledging their undying love for one another. I would hear it all, but I can’t because my heart is literally cracking, and piece by piece it is falling into a place where it will never be able to be made whole again.
Not only do I hear it, I fell it too, the pain, the anguish, the clench in my chest that causes my hand to rest upon it as I try to slow the heat that's rising too quickly, so quickly, up my throat... making it almost impossible to swallow back tears... tears, because my heart, my heart just cracked into pieces.
I wonder if he even noticed.
Unable to take it anymore, I run from the desk, but when I hear Mom and Bass walking toward me, I stop and regain my composure.
“Hey Oliver, wants to say goodbye.”
“Already?” Bass laughs.
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Some chick came in and gave him the Top Gun, Goose and Carole kiss.” I force another laugh. “I forgot I promised to call Stella.”
37
Natasha
While trying to find a new song to listen to on repeat, because my go to is no longer mine. I gave it to him, along with every dream I ever dreamed, every wish I ever wished, every prayer I have ever prayed, I found it. It’s not your typical broken-hearted ballad, or a man hater song. I mean how could it be, we were not truly ever a couple. And more importantly, I could never hate him. He never lied to me. He never wanted to hurt me. And as much as I would like to hate him, how could I? He’s still Oliver, the man who treated me with respect, kindness, and even if he could never say it, I know had he simply stepped over the line that he drew, he would have loved me. But he didn’t, therefor I will never hate him. So, the song, It’s perfect. It’s mine and Oliver’s song now. It’s Happier by Marshmello/Bastille.
Happier is Oliver and my song, but it’s not one of Natasha’s song for Oliver. You are my sunshine, the one by Jasmine Thompson, that’s one he’ll never know about. Another is How Long Will I Love You, by Ellie Goulding. Consequences by Camila Cabello, that induces immediate tears. Wasting my Younger Years by, London Grammar, Fallen So Young by Declan Donavan, Breathe by Flurie, Be Alright by Dean Lewis, and of course, Closeness by Dermot Kennedy. I should have taken that song, my first dance, with my first love, as it was, foreshadowing, and it literally brings me to my knees when I’m behind closed doors.
When it gets too hard, that I have to Imagine he’s with me, or I may die, I listen to what I would imagine our wedding song would have been, belong to you by Jacob Lee.
Over the past few days I learned that in the Army, Oliver was trained as a combat engineer. His specialties were weapons, security and explosives. I learned that a man he had served with had blown his hand off and when asked to come back as a civilian and further train and assist soldiers, in an unknown location, that apparently was laden with hidden explosives, he accepted a very hefty sum of money to spend three months in the desert.
I also learned that Oliver had kept his childhood home. Paid the taxes and never sold it. It was now on the market. Along with his savings, the property in Virginia, and the money he made for being a government contracted training specialist, he had the money he needed to buy Bass’s half of Maisie’s home. Bass tried to refuse the money, but Oliver told him he wouldn’t accept his charity and Bass finally agreed. Soon Oliver would own Maisie’s home.
I’m so happy for him.
Bass was excited he would be putting down roots.
Oliver had also told Bass about Grace. The same Grace that was bitten by a dog when she was a foster child in his family’s home. She was scarred for life, but was now serving in the US Army in charge of a K9 unit. If I didn’t hate that she now had the man I will always love, I would applaud her courage.
I’m happy for her.
I also knew he would be spending Christmas with her, and coming here, for New Year’s.
And now, two weeks before Christmas, I wish I could be like a bear and hibernate. I wish I could, but I can’t.
I’m not happy for me.
I told Stella that and she laughed. She thinks it’s cute that I want to be a bear, but she doesn’t know why. I don’t want to burden her with my issues, she has enough going on. All she knows is I’m coming to New York for a short visit… because if I don’t do… something, I’m going to lose my damn mind.
I miss her so much.
“Where are we going again?” Stella asks for the twentieth time.
“Emporia, Virginia,” I answer.
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise?”
“And they just let you take a company jet?”
“I really didn’t ask.”
“Natasha, say what?”
“It’s fine.”
“Why are you acting weird? It’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Would you lie for me?”
She nods.
“Hide a body for me?”
“Now you’re definitely freaking me out.”
“Would you?” I ask.
“Yeah, I could but–”
“This isn’t that bad, but does include a chainsaw.”
“A what?”
“The less you know, the better off you are.”
She twists in her seat and holds up her hands, palms facing me. “Okay, just hold the fucking phone.”
“I wouldn’t have involved you if I didn’t need someone to drive.”
When I start to cry, she lunges at me and we cry, together.
“You can’t wear heels and cut down a tree,” Stella laughs at me.
“They’re not just heels, they’re red bottoms.”
“You Boujee bitch,” Stella laughs and takes a picture of me.
“You’ll go to the grave with that photo,” I say as I yank on the pully thing and the damn thing almost starts.
“Or the tabloids if you don’t give me a damn job,” she laughs.
“Get mad, baby, kick it’s ass!”
“Hold the damn flashlight so I don’t cut off one of my limbs.”
I yank hard, putting all my frustration into it and the chainsaw comes to life.
Placing the chain against the tree, I try to remember what the YouTube video said about wedging it so it falls properly, but there is only a small structure that seems to have overgrown brush surrounding it. If it wasn’t so dark under this tree of horror, I’d get a better look, but I think it’s some type of gazebo.
After I’m halfway through it, I decide to go to the car and grab the wedge things out before I continue on.
Leaning into the trunk, I hear crunching and then Stella scream, “Oh no!”
I jump back and watch as the tree falls, on top of the gazebo.
“Oh my God,” I gasp covering my mouth.
“Get in the damn car, girl, we gots to go!”
The entire drive back to the airport, we are laughing, but not the kind of laughter that would be considered celebratory. Not like the laugh of two bad asses who just committed a felony and got away with it. It was more a laugh like two women who’d probably never broken a rule, aside from creating a fake social media account for, as Stella said, “A damn good reason,” we laughed because we were totally freaking terrified that we were going to get caught and go to jail.
New Year’s Eve and I’m at home, with my mom, baby brother, and my designer stepdaddy waiting for GQ Joe. Maisie’s nurse Fiona stayed on as Joshua’s nanny, who once told me she was bored out of her mind because she rarely got to actually do her job, but tonight, she was staying with him while we went out to dinner.
I had been tempted to call him a million times, to text him just as many, and tell him to please, please just make an excuse not to come.
I had even come up with the idea to pretend I was ill, and quickly squashed that when Mom told me she couldn’t wait to have a drink, and that she was officially done breastfeeding. When she brought in two dresses, one gold with black sparkles and one black with gold sparkles, both sewn by her, especially for tonight, I knew I had to suck it up and try my best to enjoy the night with my mom.
When I step into the hallway, I hear the unfamiliar sound of two men laughing. I take a deep breath and hurry toward my mom’s room to see if she’s ready. But really, because I need my mommy like a five-year-old needs her favorite blanket, and right now I would use any excuse to procure her.
“Perfect timing.” I smile at her as she walks out of her room.
She looks at me and shakes her head. “When did my baby girl become a grown up?”
“I’m not sure,” I shrug.
“Well, it happened, and I could not be prouder of you.” She hugs me. “I’m dreading the day when Joshua decides he should make up for all the grief you never gave me.”
“He wouldn’t,” I laugh. “He has the face of an angel.”
“He looks just like you the day you were born.”
“Except–”
“Except nothing, Natasha, he looks just like you.”
When we walk down the stairs, the conversation between Oliver and Bass stops. I quickly look away from him and at my feet.
It hurts to see him, it hurts worse to see him in a black tux with a smile on his face looking at me like he did in his bedroom the last time I saw him, when he kissed my neck, my cheek, my ear, even my damn forehead, but never on the lips.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, he gives Mom a hug and she tells him, “It’s nice to have you back.”
“Glad to be back.”
Back? What does that mean, back? The United States? de la Porte? Paris? Where is back?
“Natasha.” I hear the smile in his voice and I look up and give him a fake one. When he retaliates with a real hug, I relax just a bit. When he inhales my scent, I get annoyed.
“Oliver.” I step back with a tight smile.
I look to Mom, my security blanket, who has a grin from ear to ear as Bass walks around admiring her, totally missing my angst.
“Bass, you think we could have a drink before we leave?” Oliver says smiling at me.
Bastard.
“Yeah, sure. Fuck, Ang, you look amazing.”
God, he’s of no freaking help either.
I look away from the two lovebirds and at Oliver who’s looking me up and down with his lower lip between his teeth and he whispers, “Stunning.”
I roll my eyes and walk to Maisie’s wing to get a damn drink. “I’ll get them.”
“How about in here?” I look back as Oliver nods to the conservatory.
He doesn’t wait, he just walks in.
When I follow Mom and Bass in, I see he has turned on the computer and is signing into an account of some sort.
He leans back against the desk and nods to the couch. “Have a seat, I need to show you all something pretty special.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Bass laughs as he sits next to Mom, and I sit on the other side of her.
“You all know about my childhood. Bass lived some of it. Before Bass, though, I met Grace.”
He steps back and the screen is filled with a picture of her in a wedding dress and him in a tux with his arm around her, beaming. I feel myself grow dizzy.
Oliver married Grace. Numb, I feel numb. I feel numb and sick and shaky.
“Shit, wrong picture,” he stammers as he turns to change the screen.
“She looks like Natasha,” Mom gasps.
When he steps back, there’s a picture of him standing between two women in white dresses, both beautiful, both smiling and so is he.
I can’t do this. When I start to stand, I realize I can’t, and then I realize I have no choice because my brain and body aren’t working together.
“You marred two chicks?” Bass asks. “Sister wives?”
“I married them,” he says and smiles fondly as he looks at the picture.
“What?” Bass laughs.
“As in, performed a ceremony. They got married after eleven years of being together.”
“Grace and,” Bass pauses.
“Natalie,” Oliver rolls his eyes.
I’m so confused.
“So, you turning to the cloth now?” Bass jokes. “Shall we call you Father Josephs.”
“Funny you should say that.” He looks at me and blindly clicks to the next picture. “This is Olivia. She is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever met. Grace and Natalie met six months after she left the hell hole I called a family home, and Natalie took her in.”
He pulls a chair over and sits directly in front of me. “Grace was pregnant, and I had no idea. She never looked for me because she was afraid of what might happen to her and the baby. By the grace of God, she found Natalie who was a few years older than her, and Natalie had just enlisted in the Army.”
“Wait, you have a kid?” Bass asks.
He doesn’t look away from me. “I do.”
“And,” Bass pauses. “What the fuck, man?”
“I have an eleven-year-old daughter, who has beautiful green eyes.”
A tear runs down my face.
“She’s sweet, she’s kind, she’s always known about me, but her mothers couldn’t find me because I changed my last name.” He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “I
got to play Santa Clause to her for the first time.” He rolls his eyes as he looks down and smiles at me. “Probably the last time with her too, because she’s eleven and she’s bright, so bright.”
His eyes shine and I see tears in them.
“Both her moms are in the service, so she’s bounced around a bit when they both get deployed which makes her a little too trusting, but it also makes it easier for her to deal with change.”
A tear falls down his cheek and my entire throat burns with emotion.
“I will always have love in my heart for her mother.”
I reach forward and wipe away the lone tear cascading down his cheek, and he closes his eyes, causing another to fall.
“It’s okay to love her,” I whisper and sniff back my tears.
“The fifteen and sixteen-year-old broken boy loved that girl so much.” He swallows hard and his eyes crinkle in the corner. “But he loved her because at that time she was the only thing good in his life.”
“And I’m sure she felt the same.”
“No doubt.”
He leans back and looks at Bass.
“You sure you’re not wanting to try to make a family out of this?”
“The broken boy is dead, Bass. He’s dead and buried. I knew that when I came home a little over two years ago. But then I was buzzing around the city and the most fucked up thing happened. This girl ran right in front of me, I nearly dumped my bike to avoid hitting her. She stopped and looked at me, tears running down her face, sunlight highlighting this tiny little scar and she mouthed, sorry. I swore I had seen a ghost and I spent a good part of an hour searching for her, for this ghost, to make sure she was okay.”
He looks back at me. “No one in that city paid a damn bit of attention to this little blonde who was in so much pain. She was so upset. So hurt.”
I shake my head and he nods. “But I did. I saw her. And guess what?”
I wipe away my tears. “What?”
“She wasn’t Grace.”
“Natasha?”
I sniff and look over at Mom. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Natasha.” I look back to Oliver. “For two years, I’ve known that girl was you. I knew what I felt, but there was her staring back at me.”