Crashing Souls (21 page)

I
nodded, afraid to use my words.

“Greg Sr. isn’t here yet. He’s on his way back from the office. I—uh—I’d hoped you’d come by before everyone went off to school. If I remember right, you had your heart set on the East Coast.” She spoke easily enough, her bare feet hitting the floor quietly before she sat on the couch, tucking them beneath her. She was in all black, something I knew was only a reflection of how she was feeling inside. Like a light going off inside of me, all of these details about her began to emerge. One by one, I saw her baking, photographing, cycling, crying, and laughing. And I knew that, whatever she felt on the inside, determined how she clothed herself on the outside. She was a free woman, one who wasn’t afraid to feel emotions. She was
so
like Noa, had Noa let herself be herself. She balanced out her partner, who was more conservative than she. They were amazing parents and I had been the love of their lives. Greg Sr. and Molly.

I cleared my throat and sat across from her. “Yeah, um, I’m still trying to decide what it is I should be doing.”

“You were always a smart kid. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She sat forward, her eyes piercing into me. “So what brought you here after all this time, Dex?” There was no malice in her voice. She didn’t blame me even though her son was gone.

“I lost my memory after the accident. I didn’t know until now…that it was—that your son…” I cleared my throat again, fighting back the emotions building within me. “I came as soon as I knew. I know it’s seven months too late but…I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head adamantly. “None of that. I won’t have it, Dex.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “You don’t get to come in here and make me cry after all this time. And you don’t get to take the blame over something you had no control over.” She breathed in deeply.
“
The good Lord called him home, Dex. And though I miss him, I feel him around me every day. And if I’m being honest, I feel closer to him now than I have in all this time you’ve been gone.”

I nodded, wiping at the tears that had begun to cloud my vision.

“I think we’re kindred spirits, Dex. I lost my son; you lost your parents. A mother should never have to bury her son. But a boy shouldn’t have had to bury his parents before he became a man.”

“I don’t remember them. When I lost my memory, I lost it all. There are things I can make out, like I somehow knew where you lived, but other things I’m completely blank on.” I hung my head in shame. All of those feelings, the guilt at not remembering them despite being their legacy, were enough to bring me to my knees.

Warms hands ran over my shoulders, and I felt her sitting beside me.

“I knew your parents. You and Greg Jr. were always on the playground together growing up. Ralph, too. Even as you got older, you stayed in touch. And he always admired and loved you. But you have to know you’re making them proud.” She pulled my face up so my eyes met hers. “And you’re making me proud.” She hugged me against her tightly, and I couldn’t hold back the sobs. I was hugging my mother.

I sat back, wiping my nose against my arm.

“How’s Annabelle’s family?” When thinking of them, I saw a blurry image of a stern woman and a man who laughed often.

“They didn’t take the news so well. We speak from time to time, but last I heard, they sold their house and moved to California. Couldn’t take the grief of having to see this place every day, I guess.” She smiled. “Gosh, those kids were so crazy in love. It was wonderful to witness.”

“
If only it were that easy with me,” I said, feeling like I could finally get the issues with Noa off my chest. It was so much easier when I was Greg and she was Annabelle. I wondered how it’d been in each life prior. How it’d be in each life following the end of this one.

She leaned back, looking at me with incredulity. “What do you mean? Greg and Annabelle knew the best ways to get underneath each other’s skin. The way they’d bicker sometimes, you’d think they were the ones who’d been married over twenty years.”

I frowned. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. But it didn’t make them any less made for one another. Understand that, Dexter. Greg Sr. and I push each other constantly. Love isn’t something that is going to lie down and be taken. You’ve got to fight, even if it’s with the other person.”

I looked down at my hands. “I think I may have pushed her too far away. I gave up on her after I promised I never would.”

She took one of my hands in hers. “Relationships tend to get messy. But if you’re anything like my Greg Jr., and I know you are, you’ll find a way to make her see you for who you really are. I learned a lot from Greg and Annabelle. But the best thing I learned was to never give up on your soul mate. They were soul mates, I believe. Butting heads constantly but when they crashed, they crashed together.”

“Would it be all right if…I came to see you again?”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I’d like that very much. And I’m sure Greg Jr. would like that as well.”

If only she knew how right she was.

•••

I headed back to my house, hoping Ralph was there. When I walked through the front door and saw him at the kitchen island, I took a page from Noa’s book of directness.

“
Why didn’t you guys tell me I killed my
best friend
? I just came from his house, you know. You didn’t think I’d remember?”

Ralph’s jaw dropped, and Tracey set her cup down calmly.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I told everyone it was best you didn’t know.”

“He was a part of my life, Tracey. You can’t erase him. You can’t pretend he didn’t exist.” I was upset for me because my old body was laying in the dirt, and I hadn’t been mourned in this house. I’d been pushed under a rug. I was also upset because Dexter was the one who wasn’t actually here. And I shared a boyhood and teenage bond with him. He’d been broody and quick-witted and a hell of a friend to Ralph and me.

That my memories were starting to return was heaven and hell to me. I wanted to remember for so long, but now that I did, I hated what I was being faced with. Lies from the two people I’d depended on most.

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do! We all loved Greg. You three were inseparable. But it wasn’t fair to chain that guilt on you when it wasn’t your fault,” Tracey wailed.

I paced the room, trying to get rid of my anger.

“It was my fault. It was both of our faults. But what you two did was terrible. Ralph, you knew. You knew the both of us better than anyone. What…” I couldn’t finish my thought.

“She’s right. I loved you both like brothers. But we thought that, when you woke up, you’d be too traumatized to live your life. And when you had amnesia, we figured it would be best if you didn’t know. So, we removed all things Greg because, the way we saw it, if you saw him, it could trigger something in you. Give you your memories back.”

I thought back to the pictures at the lake house.

“
So you deliberately withheld things in the hopes that I would never remember. You would sacrifice my memory of your brother!” I shouted at Tracey. I shoved my hands in my hair and bent at the waist, trying not to freak out. I was fighting for Dexter
and
Greg and it was too confusing. When I straightened, I looked up at Tracey.

“And the pictures at the lake house? That was Greg?” Tracey nodded and came closer to me.

“I love you, Dex. So much. I couldn’t love you more if I gave birth to you myself. We only wanted to protect you,” she whispered.

“You protected me at what cost, Aunt Tracey?” I yelled. I walked out, slamming the door. A few seconds later, I walked back in.

“Did Noa know?”

Ralph shook his head. “She only knew you had amnesia. She knew Greg but not that we…no one spoke to her about this.”

“Great,” I said, holding out my arms. “The only honest person and I broke her fucking heart.” I stormed out of the house again.

•••

I sat at the park I’d brought Noa to before. I couldn’t bring myself to sit on the swing set. Panic filled my throat like bile. She was fading from my memories. It hadn’t even been a month and I was forgetting the intimate details—the ones that belonged to her and I alone.

“Isn’t that what we tried to avoid, sir?” A voice came from behind me, startling me. An old man walked up, sitting beside me on the bench. “I expected more from you, you know.”

He shifted so that he was facing me, and the lines from age and laughter on his face did nothing to soothe the fear running through me.

“
Are you here to take me back?” I asked. My quiet dreams hadn’t soothed my worry. I knew he’d come around sooner or later. We had a deal, after all.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Heavens, no. I should but I’m trusting that you haven’t given up on our Noa.” He sat back. “More than that, I’m hoping she hasn’t given up on you. Because, Dexter, what do you think is in store for you if she has? You think you can live a semblance of a full life without her? You are better off letting me take you if you think that.”

“It just got so hard.” I ran my hands over my face, stressed out.

“But you
love
her. You came back for her. You had me convinced that you could grow through love and share that magic with the world. I witness heartbreak every day. I’ve witnessed more hardship than you could even imagine. But I wanted more for you. I wanted love and I gave you a second chance, something I never do. Your life, without her? You will be an aimless man. Forever searching and never finding.”

Somehow I was staring at an older me, sitting in a restaurant alone. I felt the loneliness radiating toward me, and I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted Noa next to me. I needed her.

“She’ll never speak to me again. I took all of her faith in me and I destroyed it. There is no fixing it.”

“You humans think life should be so easy. She is one of the rare ones who understood that it takes work. Win her again, Dexter. You’ve found her twice. And in every life before this one. Find her again.”

I sat back up and looked at the end of the empty bench. He was gone.

I pulled out my keys and unlocked my car, getting in and heading to the only place I knew to look for what I was missing. The front door was open when I got there
and
I climbed the steps, knocking on apartment number six. When Tim opened the door a crack to see who it was, I pushed past him and he stumbled back.

“Where is she?” I opened her bedroom door, noticing how bare it looked. The usual things were there but gone were her easel and brushes. Her paintings remained but when I looked closer, almost all of her clothes were missing. I whirled around, grabbing Tim by his collar.

“Where
is
she?”

“Get your hands off me, Dex. She’s gone. Left while you were off living life.”

“Don’t act like you’re not part of the problem,” I sneered.

“But she was fine! She was coping and she was sober. Then you came around and you became her trigger. You made her want and then you fucking let her down!” He pushed me and I fell into her door. I deserved it because I’d hurt his sister.

“Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to find her for myself?” I stood and faced him.

“You’re going to get the hell out before I call the cops. I hope you never find her. If you do, you’ll just get her killed.”

I pushed past him again, clipping his shoulder and walked out. I prayed Tim’s words never came true.

When I got in my car, I hit my steering wheel, not bothering to wipe the angry tears that slid down my cheeks. Noa could run. She could hide. But if she never came back, I would be lost forever.

We
have played alongside millions of lovers, shared in the same Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell—Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.

—Rabindranath Tagore, “Unending Love”

NOA

Chapter
24

M
any people thought red was the color of anger. Just as they thought blue was the color of sadness. They envisioned red signifying heat and blue signifying cold.

These people didn’t realize that fire, at its hottest, was blue.

I brought my brush to the white canvas, spreading a shade of the color in question. Catalina blue. It wasn’t always that I let this color take over so much of my canvas. I would fight the urge to give in to the variations: periwinkle blue, independence blue, midnight blue, navy blue. Substitute it for greens, purples, or, God forbid, a gaudy pink. But red…red would never take the place of blue.

The music playing in the background was especially heartbreaking as I brought more color onto the canvas until the original white was a distant memory. I painted by heart, my heart guiding my brush strokes, either short and quick or long and deliberate.

This particular piece was a release. Maybe I’d sell it. Maybe I’d lean it against the wall of my studio, keeping it for myself until I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. It was tough being locked away with my sins. And I tended to leave them all on my canvases.

I swirled the stained brushes around in the cup of warm water that I was sure had cooled. I walked over to the sink, dumping them inside before leaving a note for the cleaning lady to make sure they were cleaned before
next
week. I didn’t feel an itch to create in that temperament again. But I knew by next week, the itch would become an obsession and I’d be dragging my pitiful ass back in here for another session with my sins.

I’d come back to the clay before I came back to the paint. It wasn’t as personal. My heart didn’t guide my fingers when throwing a pot. My artistic passion did. I knew the difference, even if the world didn’t.

I gathered the sweaty mess of clothes I’d worn on the run over from my apartment and shoved them into the washer. Although I was done painting for the night, I wasn’t quite ready to go. I dumped the liquid detergent into the machine and grabbed a cold can of ginger ale from the mini fridge.