Bloom (14 page)

“To everyone else, don’t forget to be nice to each other. I love you all. Sagapo.”

She stared off camera and waved.

“Just hit that button,” she said, and that was it.

Gone. With only her footprints left behind.

The weather following Anastasia’s funeral described my mood. Cloudy, dreary, but no precipitation. The opaque grey sky stood on the verge of a few drops, but never tossed them to the earth.

I watched crows fly overhead from my bedroom window and thought of Anastasia’s desire to make it to spring to see the flowers bloom one more time. Such a simple desire compared to my own.

Perhaps a funeral like that is supposed to change a person, make them want to live and love better. Seeing a child stiffened by death, lying there in a box, alone, no warmth to her touch, no blink of her eyes, affected me, but not the way it should’ve.

I wished I stood up there after her slideshow, confident and inspired, and gave everyone a speech to remember. I wished I did everything differently.

I should’ve said what I wanted to say. I replayed it in my mind the way I thought it would go if I had the nerve to speak.

“My name is Sarah Jordan,”
I’d say. “I was burned in a campfire accident last year.” I’d swoop my hair behind my ear to show my scars. “Just today, before coming here, I stopped at the gas station. The pump didn’t accept my credit card, so I went inside. The guy in line beside me was gorgeous and he was standing to my left, so he couldn’t see my scars. I saw him smile at me out of the corner of my eye, but instead of looking at him and showing him my entire face, I paid for my gas and turned so that he never saw me for who I really am. I liked feeling pretty again. I liked someone not seeing my scars. But Anastasia’s right. I’m not pretending anymore. This is me.” I’d wipe my face. “This entire day I’ve been so consumed by my own flaws that I worried more about standing up here and showing everyone my scars, then I worried about Anastasia’s grieving parents. I’m so wrapped up in myself and my own issues that I haven’t fully loved others.

“The photoshoot with Anastasia was beautiful. One of my favorites. She proved that life isn’t about perfection and happiness. She showed me that life is about love. It’s about finding beauty in unexpected places. It’s about taking the cards we’re given and playing them wholeheartedly, not to win, just to play.

“This little girl and her amazingly loving and accepting family have changed my life. I can only hope that when I die, I inspire others as she has inspired me.” I’d pause and hold eye contact with Vasili, then say, “Thank you.”

I was so much happier
and inspiring in my imagination.
So real and brave. I replayed the imaginary speech in my mind many times, but it only caused me to feel more depressed.

My entire life seemed like one big mess of post-it notes with the words “What If” printed on each one.

Anastasia didn’t want to die. She wanted to make more memories and see more of the world.

Yet, I woke up each morning with air in my lungs and a beat to my heart, wishing I wouldn’t. Wishing she would instead.

Ella kept bugging me to get out of the house all week, so I loosened my grip on the curtains and walked away.

Vasili and Natalie wanted to go over their wedding photography again. Natalie had new ideas. I thought it was a tad too soon to be diving into wedding stuff again, but it was only a few months away and she was excited. Handsome, sweet guy like that. I couldn’t blame her if I tried.

I parked outside of a pretty old building on the west side of town. Home of Rachel’s Creperie. Natalie’s choice.

I saw her waving at a table by the window before I even entered. I admired her spunk and energy. Vasili deserved someone who lived so excitedly and passionately.

The bells jingled as I walked in and subconsciously let my hair fall in front of my face. When the hostess approached me I realized my absurdity and pulled my hair back into a low pony tail, revealing every last scar. “I’m meeting a friend. She’s right there.”

The tattooed girl didn’t flinch at my scars. She didn’t seem to notice at all actually. Somewhat relieved, I sat across from Natalie and attempted to smile.

“So, I have a surprise.” She leaned across the table with wide eyes. “Don’t tell him. Okay?”

“Vasili?”

“Yeah. I’m going to surprise him.” She sat back in her seat like a normal person. “I don’t know how much he’s told you, but last year I was offered this incredible opportunity at a salon in LA. Money, celebrities, status, you name it. Obviously I got really excited about it and wanted to take it, but I could tell Vasili didn’t want to leave his family. So, all this time I’ve been pretending to want to live there and I’ve been taking trips to LA a lot, so he believed it.”

“Wait ... why were you going there then? You missed Christmas Eve with Anastasia.”

“Well.” She wiggled her fingers before resting her palms on the table between us. “It was for Vasili. I’m bringing it up because I need your help with something, but don’t want to tell him yet.”

“Hey, girls.” A waitress stood at our table, pen and paper ready for our orders. “What can I get you today?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Natalie said. “We haven’t looked at the menus yet.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

I slipped my coat off and hung it on the back of my chair. “So you aren’t moving to LA?”

“No.” She smiled. “Of course not. I love him too much to see him leave everything he loves. So, here’s the—oh, oh, he’s here.” She twirled the diamonds on her finger with her thumb and stood. “I’ll tell you later.”

Vasili touched my shoulder and smiled, then gave his future bride a kiss. I looked away, wondering why I felt a sudden urge to hide in the bathroom.

They sat down in front of me. Natalie opened a magazine with beautiful wedding photos. I found myself staring at Vasili’s hands, picturing them intertwined with my own.

I berated myself inside, while smiling on the outside.

“Something wrong?” Vasili said, interrupting Natalie.

I shook my head and watched Natalie as she spoke. She was petite and cute, the complete opposite of me. Perfect nose, somewhat full lips, dark eyes that changed color depending on her shirt. Not to mention her fashion-sense. She didn’t look uppity, but she looked nice. Put together. Like I used to.

I remembered she was speaking and tried to listen again.

“Do you think we could pull that off?” she said. “I know it’s a lot, but I think it will be so beautiful.”

I touched the magazine with my fingertips and pulled it toward me. “Yes. We can do this, but we need more equipment than what I have and probably at least three helpers to assist me with lighting.”

She looked at Vasili. “What do you think, babe?”

“Whatever you want,” he said.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I peeked under the table as the love bugs ordered lunch.

A text from James:

If I can’t be with you, then I’m better off dead. I’ve written you a goodbye letter and in my will I’ve given you guardianship of Abigail. It’s better this way. For her to have you instead of me.

“And for you?” The waitress said.

“Oh, um, whatever she’s having.” I glanced at my phone again. The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for someone’s death.

Vasili wouldn’t stop staring at me. He knew me well enough to know something wasn’t right and now I hated that he knew. I hated that I knew him. Hated.

Mom always told me not to say “hate.” She used to say, “Not even the devils of the world deserve such a strong emotion directed from us. The only people using that word should be the devils themselves.”

But no other word seemed appropriate for the moment. I hated the cards I plucked from the deck and it made me hate the game. Yes, hate.

Somehow my friendship with Vasili planted a false hope in me that I didn’t realize existed until now. Naively, I thought a guy like him might like a girl like me, scars and all. So stupid of me. Of course he loved her. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was he. How could I possibly be so ridiculous?

Natalie excused herself for a bathroom break.

Vasili thanked the waitress for his iced tea, then looked at me. “What’s up, Sarah? You seem preoccupied with something.”

I sipped my water and shook my head. “Don’t you find it a little strange to go on living when she’s gone? It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Life isn’t fair when you play by life’s rules. When you play by your own, on the other hand…”

I laughed. “What?”

James walked by the window. With a girl. Cheyenne. Vasili looked over his shoulder when he saw my gaze follow them, them he turned back to me, tapped the table, and turned back again.

I couldn’t believe it. He sent me lies about killing himself with my cousin wrapped around his arm? The nerve!

“I gotta go.” I stood and tossed a twenty on the table. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You’re not running after him, are you?”

“What do you care?” My face flushed with warmth.

“What’s going on?” Natalie said. “Sarah? What happened?”

I left without answering her, got into my car, and texted James back.

I saw you with my cousin. You are such an unbelievably psychotic jerk. Stop toying with my life. Leave me alone.

I had already left the city when he responded. I saw you with that guy. Smiling and laughing. Wait till I tell his fiancé you two are having an affair.

Me:
We’re not. She was in the bathroom. We were meeting about wedding photography.

James:
Riiiiight.

Me:
Unlike you, I don’t lie.

James:
Is that why you hide your scars behind your hair?

Me:
Leave me alone, James. Just go away now.

James:
Just because I’m with Cheyenne doesn’t mean I wasn’t serious about what I said. Do you expect me to sit around single while you help engaged guys have affairs?

Me:
I’m not even having this conversation. You said it yourself ... who would want me?

I turned my phone off and blasted the radio. Dixie Chick’s I’m Not Ready to Make Nice came on and I belted it out as though I wrote the lyrics myself.

The nerve! I thought again, slamming my car door and stomping up Ella’s front steps. And when would I stop calling my home “Ella’s House?” I wanted my own house. I wanted my own life. I wanted a reason to wake up again.

I wanted to take the cards of my life and shuffle them back into the deck, then start over. But I couldn’t and I was frustrated beyond reason.

I walked back down the front steps and stood in the front yard, staring at the evening sky. Then, with my fists clenched by my sides, I screamed as loud as possible until my lungs begged me to stop.

The front door whipped open. I turned. Gavin stared at me, his eyes wide as the moon. He put his hands on his hips and squinted.

I laughed.

I laughed so hard, hunched over in the winter landscape, that I cried.

And they were good tears.

Needed ones.

Hydrating ones.

Ella peeked around Gavin’s shoulder.

“I’m okay.” I waved. “Just telling life I’m not playing by her rules anymore.”

They looked at each other and I laughed again. Oh, dear, now I was the crazy one.

The next morning I woke
up refreshed with an odd
determination to photoshop my life a new brand of blue. Away with the desaturated melancholic hues and in with some funky cerulean tones.

I considered my new color as I showered. Which was fast. Still dreaded showers.

If I got really daring I could ditch blues altogether and opt for scarlet or electric lime.

Maybe.

Maybe I’d even go shopping for new clothes. That would shock everyone.

I finished my morning routine and sent everyone a mass text. Everyone except James and Cheyenne. It said:

In honor of simpler times, I’m about to toss my cell phone into the Susquehanna. Or maybe just donate it. Either way, if you want to contact me I’m only accepting in-person visits or letters. Yes, remember those? The kind you stuff in an envelope and put a stamp on. If it’s something important I suggest you stop by or send the letter far in advance. I will no longer be communicating via telephones. And no ... you can’t call Ella to relay messages. Letters and faces. Signing off now, so don’t bother texting if you want to know why I’m doing this. Over. And out.

I turned the phone off and smiled.

Ella tapped on the door frame and walked in.

“What’s the deal with the phone thing?” she said as she rubbed Adelaide’s head.

“I thought you, Miss Jane Austen, would understand.”

“Well, I like the romance of that time, but I appreciate the technology of today.”

“I’m just tired of being so easy to get in touch with. One text at the wrong time has the power to ruin your entire day if you let it. Information at the touch of a screen, whenever we want it. Google in our pockets. Social media while we’re driving. Nothing takes time and work anymore. How many contacts do I have in my phone? And how many of those people will keep in touch with me now that the relationship takes a little effort?”

“What about email?”

“Nope.”

“Wow. I mean, you know how I love simplicity, but isn’t this actually making things more difficult for you?”

“Depends how you look at it.” I grabbed my purse. “Some see a tattoo as a permanent scar of regret and some see it as art.”

“Are you getting a tattoo?”

I laughed. “Not yet.”