By a Thread (4 page)

S
h
e and Jamie were in his car, driving up GW Parkway, and they were both smiling, windows down. Not a cloud was in the sky and a bright sun lit up Jamie’s face. He rested his arm casually on the passenger seat of the car behind her. He was wearing a light blue button-down and aviator sunglasses. The scent of clementines filled the car. Stella closed her eyes and simply drank in the warmth of the sun, his touch, and his smell. Her eyes shot open when she felt a wave of ice cold across her face. It was dark and Jamie was staring at her, not the road. She screamed as a Mack truck struck them head on. Jamie’s arm fell lifelessly behind her, coming unattached at the shoulder. His body and face struck the windshield, and slumped back into her lap. Blood was everywhere. Stunned, she froze with her hands up, covered in his blood. She couldn’t stop screaming, screaming his name. She couldn’t stop shaking...

“STELLA... STELLA!” She looked around in a panic, trying to locate the voice yelling at her. Jamie was dead in her arms.
DEAD
. “STELLA, PLEASE!” A slap across her face woke her up in an instant. She was drenched in sweat and still screaming. Her entire body shook violently. Patrick’s eyes were full of concern and he pulled her into his arms. “Shh, it’s going to be okay. Shh...” Patrick stroked her hair over and over like she was a frightened kitten. Stella couldn’t protest. She was back in the car with Jamie.

“Pat...” she croaked.

“Shh,” Patrick pulled her into his chest tighter. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Stella let herself collapse into his arms and howled until exhaustion took over and her muscles relaxed without protest. Stella didn’t know how long she’d slept but when she woke, Patrick was still holding her tightly to his chest. It was the first time she had been able to get a few hours sleep without having a nightmare.

“Thank you,” she whispered awkwardly.

Patrick nodded and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He sat staring into the closet with his elbows on his knees. Breaking his stare away from the empty closet he put his head in his hands. “El, it’ll get better.”

“You going to hold me until it does, Patrick?” Stella got out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, not looking in Patrick’s direction, and shut the door.

“If that’s what you need,” he answered. He rose from the bed and went upstairs.

Stella got into the shower, turned the water on as hot as it would go, and crumpled to the shower floor. She curled her body into a ball, feeling empty. Numbness spread across her brain and body. She welcomed the numbness. She stood up, washed her face and her hair for the first time in over a week.
This is better,
she thought
. Numb
. If Stella could just hang on to the numbness, she could make it through the day. This would be her life now, making it day by day without feeling. This was her plan. She had a plan.

Stella started drinking around 9:30 am. She sat on the couch, Cooper right next to her. Disgusted, she studied her new house. The den was a small cramped room that barely fit the couch and a chair. It was painted a bright teal that reminded her of a sorority from college. The coffee table was covered in old fast food wrappers, dirty plates, empty beer and soda cans, and there were four pairs of shoes scattered on the floor. There was shit everywhere.
These fuckers are disgusting,
she thought
.

The kitchen table was covered in newspapers, dirty plates, and books. She’d be damned if she was cleaning up after these pigs. She’d only been living with them a couple of weeks, and most of her time was spent passed out, but when she was conscious the house was repulsive. Grabbing another beer, she walked down the stairs, promptly followed by Cooper.

Plugging in her iPod, she selected the Dave Matthews Band and started pulling clothes out of her boxes, hanging them in the closet, or putting them into drawers. There was plenty of space now that she wasn’t sharing closet space with Jamie. She went back upstairs and brought down the whole six-pack of beer so she wouldn’t have to keep climbing up and down the stairs.

Cleaning out her boxes, she hung posters on the wall, put out pictures, and filled her bookcase. When she was finished with the boxes of books, she walked upstairs to get another six-pack of beer. Back downstairs, she sat on the floor and touched the spines of the books. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Jamie’s face, laughing with her. She could still feel him touching her, loving her.
How could this have happened?
They were on the brink of everything they ever wanted. A wave of nausea hit her suddenly, and she barely made it to the toilet before throwing up more than a few beers.

When her stomach was finally empty, she’d passed out on her bathroom floor, face flat on the tile. Stella felt a nudging against her face, then something wet and warm on her cheek. Opening her eyes slowly, a big brown nose came into focus. Cooper was sitting next to her on the bathroom floor licking her face.

“Hey, Coop.” She sat up and leaned back against the bathroom wall. “Pretty fucking bad, huh?” she asked Cooper, already knowing the answer.

Stepping into the shower, she wobbled several times, and had to brace herself against the wall. She stayed in the shower after bathing, trying to shake some of the cobwebs from her brain. Her knees were weak as she walked upstairs after her shower. Billy was at his usual station: the couch, with a video game controller in hand.

“Where’s Patrick?” Stella asked from the kitchen, skipping any small talk or pleasantries with Billy. She stared into the fridge, trying to decide between water and beer.

“Not home yet,” he said without looking up from his video game.

As if on cue, the door flew open and Cooper ran to greet Patrick.

“Hey, Coop.” Patrick rubbed all over Cooper’s fur. Cooper couldn’t contain himself. He wiggled and danced around Patrick’s feet in happiness.

“Okay, so you both are here.” Stella shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I can’t stand the mess here. I know I’m not clean, but shit. I don’t understand the point of putting empty cans on the counter right next to the trashcan, but not in the trashcan. I can’t live this way. If we don’t get a maid or something I’ll stab you both in your sleep.” She grabbed a beer.

“Well, how do you fucking do,” Patrick answered.

The more time went by, the more broken Stella felt. She couldn’t seem to push herself to function, other than what was forced on her by Patrick. Insomnia had taken over her nights and she felt like she’d been awake since Jamie died, give or take a daytime catnap here or there, or when she was able to pass out from drinking. Everything reminded Stella of Jamie. She couldn’t escape his memory. When she heard Patrick’s footsteps upstairs, she glanced at the clock, swallowing the six-pack she started earlier in the day. She put the empty beer in her bathroom trashcan, before Patrick could see her with it.

“El,” Patrick yelled from upstairs. “I work all day the least you could do is make me dinner, woman.”

Stella steeled herself, tried to put a somewhat pleasant expression on her face, and walked up the stairs. “Obviously, you have me mistaken for someone else.”

He opened his bedroom door and threw his bag inside. “What do you want to eat?’

“Whatever...”

“Let’s go then, there’s a bar I want to check out.” They walked outside and down toward the river.

After several blocks, Stella glanced down at what she was wearing. If she cared, she would’ve been embarrassed by her stained tank top, yoga pants, and flip-flops. She had on no makeup and her hair was piled in a knot on her head. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t even opened her makeup bag since Jamie died.

As if he could tell that she finally realized how unkempt she appeared, “Oh, you look real good El,” Patrick said sarcastically.

“Like I give a shit. You’re the one who should be embarrassed.” She pulled her bra straps up on her shoulders so that they would be hidden by her tank top, surprised she even had on a bra.

“I’ll never be embarrassed by you, El, but it would be nice if you put real clothes on.” Patrick was walking briskly toward the busy area of Old Town. “It’s a casual place, you should be fine.”

Patrick took her hand as they walked into a bar called Finnegan’s. He led her to a bar stool at the end of the bar. “Well, this is progress, right?” Stella asked, thinking it was a good thing she already had six beers to get here.

“Progress.” Patrick said and nodded in agreement. A woman walked up to them and Patrick ordered himself a Guinness and a Snakebite for Stella. Stella briefly glanced around the bar. It was dark, with worn cherry wood everywhere. There were only a few patrons. The bar was shaped in an L, with tables and a stage in the middle of the room, opposite the bar. “Billy’s meeting us here in a few minutes, which means he’s probably had a rough day—which is saying something because Billy never has a rough day.”

“I’d like to switch my life for his.” Stella didn’t even look up when the bartender put her Pilsner glass in front of her. Patrick said thanks for both of them. The crisp taste of cider and lager mellowed her nerves as she took another sip.

Billy walked in and slumped onto the stool next to Stella at the bar. “Really shit day guys.”

“What’s up?” Patrick waved at one of the bartenders.

“Top secret clearance bullshit, but just know it sucks. I mean, give me a fucking break. They are talking to, like, everyone I have ever fucking known, including my ex-girlfriend.” Billy looked at the male bartender standing in front of them and said, “Biggest beer you have. I don’t care what it is.”

“Hmmm... let’s see what I can do.” The bartender moved away from them and Patrick and Billy continued their conversation. When the bartender returned, he’d poured a dark beer into an actual vase. “So this is about five beers, but since you look like you’ll be drinking several of these, I’ll only charge you for one.”

“Okay, I love this guy.” Billy raised his vase at the bartender and took a sip.

“It’s George.”

Stella finally got out of bed around 2:00 in the afternoon. The house was quiet except for Cooper’s nails clicking against the tile of the kitchen floor. He was hungry, and pacing the length of the kitchen waiting on her. She hadn’t fed him yet. Slowly making her way to the stairs, something on the floor caught her eye. It was her phone. She’d left it there the day she’d gotten back from the funeral. That was over a month ago. She figured she should turn it on.

She pressed the power button as she walked up stairs. The beeping and chirping started instantly. She laid the phone down on the counter and went about feeding Cooper. The phone beeped again as she was setting down his bowl, notifying her of a voicemail. Stella walked over to her phone to see who left a message. It was a friend from home, checking in on her “to see how she was doing.”
Really?
she thought
, how the fuck do you think I’m doing
?

She examined the screen of her phone. It showed sixty-five voice messages and 134 texts. She didn’t have it in her to check either kind. Instead, she realized she needed to cut her toenails. She hadn’t unpacked anything but her clothes, and she didn’t know where her nail clippers were.

They always kept the clippers with Jamie’s stuff. Stella sighed, walked back downstairs, and stared at all unpacked boxes. She opened the first box hesitantly. There was a picture of Jamie and Stella with several of their “couple friends” from school after a homecoming game. She couldn’t remember which year it was.
That is what happiness looks like,
she thought. She looked back in the box, tears falling down her cheeks.

Her phone began ringing. She ignored it and began pulling more contents of the box. It was full of things she’d never seen. There were more pictures of him with other guys in baseball uniforms, from all different ages. A couple of ties were wadded up in the bottom of the box. His athletic cup was in the box. She held it away from her face with two fingers and flung it on the floor. There were a few pieces of loose paper. One piece was folded flat as if it had fallen out of a book. It had her name on it. She unfolded the paper and read.

So Stella, we made it through four years of college together. I knew the minute I saw you that we would be good together. I was right. You are perfect for me. You are just the right combination of sweet and surly, smart and smart-ass. I love you with so much of my heart it is scary. We’re so young, we shouldn’t be feeling this so soon. I don’t know if I can handle it. Our lives are so intertwined and I don’t know how to separate them. I don’t know where you end and where I begin. I’m moving to DC and taking a job there. I know, I’m a coward and can’t tell you in person. I can’t watch as I break your heart.

We’ll go our separate ways, but know that you will be in my heart always. I wonder if you will be my biggest regret, the one that got away.

That was it. It was like he never finished the letter. Stella blinked, not feeling anything as she read this letter that Jamie intended to give to her, but never did. Instead, he’d proposed. Gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him.
Why would he do that when all he wanted to do was go be by himself,
she wondered
. Numb.
Stella sat on the floor and felt something inside her harden.
What the fuck ever, this shit doesn’t change where I am,
she thought
.
She’d moved to DC instead of attending the University of Georgia Law School for Jamie, and he’d died and left her.
Alone
.

Patrick and Stella were on the back porch drinking beer and staring off into the night sky. She’d had a minor setback when she finally turned on her phone a month after Jamie’s funeral. The messages were more than she could take. She’d called her best friend from college, Meghan, and the conversation had been a disaster. Words had escaped her and Meghan really hadn’t been any better. Meghan was engaged and planning her wedding. As bad it sounded, Stella didn’t care. She didn’t want to hear about how great everything was for Meghan, it made her feel like an asshole. It was then that she made the decision to just plow forward. There was no need to talk to anyone from her past, they would simply remind her of Jamie and who she was with Jamie. That person didn’t exist anymore. She wasn’t anyone anymore.

Her parents called and left her messages everyday for weeks, each message more heart-wrenching than the last. They were cut off too. She couldn’t handle talking about what they needed her to talk about.

“You know how me and Jamie became friends?” Patrick took a sip of beer and looked over to Stella.

“No,” she said flatly, hoping that would be the end of it.

“We played ball together in the travel leagues in Savannah. He was so good. And it was just natural, you know.” He looked off and sighed. “We’ve known each other for years, but reconnected a couple years ago when I saw him play in the College World Series for Georgia.”

Stella sat silent. She was numb.

“I recruited him for the ATF, Stella, I’m so sorry,” Patrick said sincerely.

“Why are you sorry?” Her head tilted slightly, puzzled by his apology.

“I just feel like this is my fault. If it weren’t for me, you guys wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“First of all, there are no guys here, it’s just me. And no one knew he would die in a car accident driving back here. I don’t see how you think this is somehow your fault, but that’s your shit to deal with.” She chugged the rest of her beer and got up to get another one. “You want another?”

“Sure.”

Stella walked to the cooler and grabbed two beers. “I know we are both dealing with this in our own way, Patrick, but if you’re asking if I blame you, I don’t. That’s part of the problem with this entire situation. There’s no one to blame but the other driver, who died too.”

“You know, you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”

“Well, I guess I haven’t given you a real good view of me.” Stella twirled a section of her hair around her finger, “but you can’t blame me for being a basket case. I’m nothing like I was a couple of months ago, with Jamie. That girl’s gone.”

“I hope not.”

“Pretty sure the happy-go-lucky, idealistic person I used to be has been replaced by a drinking, cussing, mess. How do you like me now?” she said, dripping in sarcasm as she looked up into the sky.

“You’ll be alright.”

“Glad you think so…”

“I kinda like you anyway.” Patrick laughed.

“Good to know you’re a masochist.” Stella peered over the fence into their neighbor’s yard. Sitting in the back yard were four old toilets and a working Coke machine. “It looks like if we need a Coke or need to take a shit, all we need to do is go next door.”

Patrick stood up and examined the yard. “Now I can’t wait to meet them.”