A Flawed Heart (28 page)

Jason sets down his guitar and sits before the keys again.
He motions for me to come closer to him for our duet. This is the song I feel
most comfortable singing. We’ve practiced it on the bedroom floor every night
for weeks. I feel no nerves or fear as I take my place beside him. I belong
here.
This
song is only for
Jason and me. He begins to press the keys, and I smile. His voice is low and
gritty.

I answer, soft and sweet. When we sing together, our voices
blend and become one. His low growl contrasts against my high melodic notes. He
sings right to me, looking in my eyes. It’s perfection, and it’s playful. His
eyes are an ocean of gratitude and happiness. He stands as the song ends, and
kisses me. It feels right. In spite of the fact that we’re in front of hundreds
of people, when his lips meet mine, it’s just him and me. I hear the applause
and he laughs when he lets me go. He runs a finger down my cheek, and I know it
must be flushed bright red.

We’re finished, and I feel amazing. Jason steps to the mike
again. He gestures toward Lydia and Ben.

“I just want to thank my lovely sister Lydia, and my best
friend Ben, for accompanying me today. I also want to thank my girlfriend,
Claire. I want to thank her for lending her extraordinary voice to me tonight,
but I have a lot more to thank her for, and I’d like to do that with one last
song.”

Lydia and Ben don’t seem surprised by this at all, but I am.
We only practiced those three, and I had no idea he would do this. I feel my
heart flutter. I’m so touched that he’s going to sing me a song in front of all
of these people. The lights fade again and Jason is cast in a golden glow. He
stands tall, and alone at the head of the stage. The light catches in his hair
and he strums his acoustic, and begins the song. His voice is laced with
heartache.

I feel—I
know
, exactly what I mean to him, and our
feelings are the same. He thinks I saved him, but he saved me, too. I’m
reminded of the day we spent together in Strawberry Fields. I’m reminded of the
first time he kissed me.

The lyrics say all the things he can’t. I wipe my eyes, and
marvel at the way he looks surrounded in golden light, serene and majestic. He
plucks the strings in a final guitar solo, his eyes closed. Ben plays softly in
the background, holding Jason together and carrying him through the end of the
song, like the friend that he is. The crowd rises before him and their ovation
is deafening. Cameras flash and I walk toward him. I take his hand. I’ve never
felt more love and gratitude for this man than I do right now. I’m in awe of
him. I’m inspired by him. I never want to live a day without having him at my
side. Lydia and Ben take their places next to us. We join hands, take our final
bow, and exit the stage.

Jason is relaxed as he drives us home with one hand. He’s
looks a bit sweaty and disheveled…like after he’s shown me a particularly good
time in the bedroom. I smile to myself, thinking that watching him play is not
that different. He’s truly a master of both. My thoughts are drowned out by
Lydia’s squealing from the back seat.

“I mean, that could
not
have gone better, and the
crowd loved it, Jason. You should be proud of yourself. Did you see Dad? He was
busting!”

“I didn’t see him, but he’ll be at Alexa’s for the after
party. First round is on me, guys. I really couldn’t have done it without you.”

Once again, I’m the envy of many as I enter Alexa’s bar on
Jason’s arm. It’s packed, as always. And of course, the first person I see is
Tony. I brace for Jason’s reaction to his presence, squeezing his hand tighter
in an effort to tether him to me—for Tony’s sake. As usual, Tony is unfazed by
Jason.

“I was at the show. You sounded great tonight, Claire.” He
steps toward us, and then looks at Jason. “You both did,” he clarifies, with
sincerity in his voice.

Jason lets go of my hand and I cringe. To my astonishment,
Jason extends his hand—not his fist. Tony smiles his bright, white, smile and
shakes Jason’s hand.

“Thank you, Tony,” Jason says…and I know that he means it.
He and Tony exchange a respectful look, and then Jason and I move toward the
bar.

Alexa greets Jason with the same warmth she always has for
him, and I get a hug, too. A beer is placed in my hand, and I follow behind
Jason as he searches for his father. We wind around friends who all want to
congratulate Jason. He’s charming and grateful, and I love watching him shine.
All of the attention suits him. We finally make our way through the room, and I
stop short.

I blink my eyes several times, trying to make sense of the
scene in front of me. I hear Jason, Lydia, and Daniel yell surprise, but their
voices are muffled. Standing right behind Daniel, with a smile on her face and
happy tears in her eyes, is my mama.

I shove my way toward her, probably injuring several
innocent bystanders in my haste to get close to my only living parent. She
smells just like I remember, she feels just like I remember. I sob into her
shoulder as I hug her with every muscle in my body.

“Oh my God, Mama, how are you even here?”

She laughs at me. “Well, Jason called me, actually, and told
me about the show. I
had
to be here, to see my baby sing in front of all
those people. Honestly, I would be hurt that you didn’t tell me about it
yourself, if I wasn’t so damn proud of you right now.”

I turn to Jason. His arms are across his chest, beer in one
hand. A sexy, sneaky, smile is draped across his face. I saunter up to him. His
eyes are on mine as I approach. Then they’re on my chest, my waist,
my
feet…my eyes again. I feel my stomach flip as he looks me
up and down.

“Jason Taylor.
How
did you manage to do this?” I ask
with my hands on my hips.

I get no answer from him. Only more eye sex. I crane my neck
to whisper in his ear, so that only he can hear. “You are perfect. Thank you.”

* * * *

One week later...

I’m wearing a black dress. My hair is a waterfall over my
shoulders. Jason is dressed in a black jacket, white shirt, and black pants—a
suit, no tie. His top button is open and his tattoos poke out. I turn to stare
out the window at the coal colored Hudson River. I’m wearing a dress and Jason’s
in a suit—and we’re riding the Metro-North Train. I see passengers side eyeing
us as they get on and off with backpacks and puffy coats, probably going hiking
or headed off to visit family. Jason and I look as if we’re headed for a red
carpet…but we’re not. We’re headed for the cemetery.

I asked him why we weren’t driving, and he said the train
would let him clear his head. Honestly, I think it’s because he’s afraid he’ll
be too upset to drive later.
That’s
why I’m here—moral support, strength.
I squeeze his hand and he squeezes
back, but I don’t take my eyes off of the river.

The train operator calls out, “Glenwood, next stop.”

Jason kisses my cheek, and jerks his head toward the doors
.

We
exit the train and step down the platform, into the chilly November air. Daniel
is in the parking lot, leaning up against his car. He’s also in a suit and an
overcoat. I smile, waiting to see the sparkle in his eyes when he sees Jason
and me, but it’s not there. There’s nothing there. And the reality of how hard
this must be for him hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Hello, son.
Claire.” He greets us,
and then he opens our doors for us and gets in. Lydia looks just as vacant as
her father, but she manages a slight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. The
ride is silent and short. We pull past an old wrought iron gate reading “Glenwood
Cemetery.” Daniel’s car turns down a narrow path that meanders up a hillside.
It’s peaceful, but eerie here. As we ascend, the trees become thicker. Their
branches snake together and block out the clouded sky. I don’t know what it is
about cemetery trees, but they always look larger than the ones that live in
parks and woods. They are bigger, more imposing…more permanent.

We park and get out. Lydia and Daniel carry lilies. Jason
carries nothing. The fabric of my dress slips under my wool overcoat. The wispy
noise it makes is slight, but at this moment it’s deafening. I know which
headstone is hers before it’s made clear to me. It’s an angel, reaching down to
brush the cheek of a cherub. Serenity…generosity…love…all of the qualities I’ve
come to associate with Eileen, a woman I never got to meet, rest in the eyes of
the stone angel.

I start to feel panicked. I shouldn’t be here.
It’s too intimate. This is not my place.
Jason reads my mind, the way he always does, and brings my hand to his lips.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Daniel and Lydia set their flowers down. They put one arm
around each other. It’s obvious they have a routine when they visit. I sense
that I’m not the only one who feels out of place. Jason shuffles dirt around
with his feet. Lydia notices his awkward posture and extends her arm, inviting
him into the harbor of her shoulder. He accepts, and presses me to his other
side.

No one says a word.

Daniel sobs. Lydia wipes her eyes. Jason stares straight ahead.
My chest is ripping open.
So much pain
.
I want to help them, but what can I do? I
clear my throat and three heads snap in my direction.

“I don’t know what y’all usually do, I mean, I don’t want to
overstep here or anything, but I usually read a poem when I go to see my dad.
He used to like to listen to me read, so I recite a poem I think he would like.”

Puzzled faces stare at me.

“So, I don’t know if it’s okay, but I picked out something
that I thought Eileen would like. Is it okay, if I read it?”

The sparkle returns to Daniel’s eyes. Lydia smiles a bit.
Jason rubs my hand.

“Of course, Claire.
Eileen would
love that. Thank you,” Daniel says.

I look at the stone angel and address Jason’s mother. “Eileen,
I never had the pleasure of meeting you, but I see your heart in Daniel. I see
your kindness in Lydia, and I see your love in Jason. I think you should know
that those pieces of you live on in your family. I see your goodness in them.
They carry you with them every day.”

Jason sobs. He’s crying. He’s letting the grief come. What
is left of Eileen’s family huddles together as I read
If I Can Stop One Heart from Breaking
,
by Emily
Dickinson.

The grief comes in a flood now. Jason lets go of my hand,
and embraces his sister as he cries. They are both sheltered by their father’s
arms. And
my
tears fall as I watch them break apart, and mend, and hold
each other up.

Jason is quiet at the station. He refused a ride home from
his father and Lydia. A breeze blows and sends a chill up my back. I shiver a
little under my coat.

He finally speaks. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

His voice is grave and his eyes are bloodshot. I follow the
love of my life down the platform stairs, across the parking lot, and into the
woods. I’m in heels and definitely not dressed for a hike, but I’m not distracting
with Jason. Not today.

Lucky for me, it’s a short trip along a downhill path. We
step out onto a small, old, fishing dock. The black water of the river laps
against the warped wood. Across the river are sloping mountains, studded with
what’s left of the fall foliage.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“
This
is where I usually come on my mother’s
birthday,” he answers.

“Wait. What?
Here?
This place?”

“Yeah.
I’ve tried, more times than
I can count, to go to the cemetery to see her, but I just couldn’t do it. I
take the train to Glenwood, and sit in the station with my cell phone in my
hand, my finger resting on the send button to call my dad and tell him I was
here. But I never do it. One year, I found this place. So I come up on the
train, sit in the station for an hour…and then wander over here. It became my
way of spending time with her. I just sit there…” He points to the end of the
dock, “And talk to her.”

“And you’ve done that every year?”

He turns to me, and his eyes are struggling to blink away
the ghosts. “Yes. And I’ve never told a single person about it, except you.”

He hugs me and we stand there, holding each other. I hear a
gull calling. The
waves
crash against the rocks, and
then retreat back just as suddenly as they came. The sound is soothing, and
Jason holds me as if he never wants to let me go. He pulls back and rests his
forehead against mine. He slides his hands down to my hips.

“I wanted to bring you here, Claire, because I wanted you to
see it before I said goodbye.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have to come here anymore. I don’t have to live
underneath my pain…hiding from it, alone in the dark, walking with ghosts. I
can let it go now. I don’t want to live in the past, and I don’t have to. I
have
you
now, Claire—you’re my light. You make me strong—”

I stop his words with my lips, and kiss him with every ounce
of everything I have in my heart and soul. I kiss him until my toes tingle and
my breath leaves me. Until I feel faint and my heart gets so full, I feel as if
it will burst from all of the love it holds. And he kisses me back. He gives it
all back to me.

“We make each other strong,” I tell him.

And it’s true.

Epilogue

I’m an old woman now. I’ve watched the gray slowly stake its
claim over my once shiny, brown hair. I have watched my eyes cloud over, and my
face has a wrinkle for every year I have lived. I’m sitting on the porch gazing
out at the lush green woods that surround my home, and I’m remembering…