Finding Home (2 page)

“I wish you were here. I miss seeing your face every goddamn day.” My body betrays me as I start to shake. “You are always on my mind. Everyone says I need to get past this, but I don’t think I can. You’re still too real to me. You haunt me in my dreams as if you’re still here.”

I look around—feeling like a pussy—because not only am I shaking, but my eyes are watering, too. “I see you everywhere and in everything. On my way to work, I pass by the movie theatre where we would sit on rewind nights and watch classic 80s and 90s movies because you loved them.”

My hand moves and presses against my chest to try and stop the sharp pain. “Just the other day I walked by your favorite ice cream shop that always knew your order by heart. You never changed it. It was always chocolate ice cream with Reese’s peanut butter cup mixed in.” I laugh, thinking how they could never remember my order, but knew hers.

Looking up into the sky, I pause and take a breath. “I even see you in different people I meet. It may be their mannerisms or something in their eyes or smile. It’s like you never left.” A few lonely teardrops fall, and I quickly wipe them away. “I don’t know how to move on. Why did you leave me? We had such big dreams, and now I have nothing.”

Standing in my usual spot, I wait for something to happen, some kind of shift or a sign that tells me she’s still with me. But nothing happens; it never does. “Beth, I feel like I’m losing my grip here. I want to keep you close to me, but people are right. Maybe I need to open myself up more and take a chance.” I wipe away my tears and look down to the ground. “I need your help, Beth. I need to know if I should take a leap of faith and move forward with my life without you. Just tell me or show me, ‘cause right now life sucks, and I don’t think I can live like this anymore.”

Kneeling down, I succumb to the sadness and touch her headstone. Placing a single red rose on top, it’s like I am reliving the fact that my Beth is gone. Softly, I say her name, “Elizabeth Rose Daniels,” while I kiss the etched letters. Letting out a long sigh, I turn around and walk away from her.

As I near my car, I try to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming weekend with my family. I am lucky to have a family who loves me, but I am not in the mood to hear anything from them regarding Beth. For most of my adult life, Beth was it for me—there was never anyone else. She’s still as much a part of me today as she was yesterday. I know I need to try and move on. I just don’t know how. She was my world for so long.

Today, however, is a big first step for me. To even think about getting my ass in gear is a major milestone. Deep down I know I have to try. Living my life this way is not cutting it anymore. Thoughts of Beth and our life together are overwhelming me, and it’s becoming a bad addiction.

My parents and sister don’t understand the pain I live with daily. They want to help, but I need to do it on my own time and in my own way. I think of her every morning when I wake up and go to bed every night thinking of her. Family and friends have suggested I talk to someone to help me deal and get a grip, but I’m not ready. Hell, my friend, Jack, told me that I may just need to get rip-roaring drunk, pick up a random girl, and get laid.

Jack
. He would be happy to hear that I am trying to take that first step toward moving on. I just don’t think it should involve a girl and fucking her. His words, not mine. As I head north out of San Francisco to Napa, I think about how her loss still affects me. Giving in to these thoughts is not good for me. My hold on the steering wheel tightens, turning my knuckles white. Jesus, it’s been two years, and I still feel like she was never taken from me.

As I cross over the Golden Gate Bridge, I allow more memories to cloud my brain. I reflect on what we were to each other and how our lives were before that fateful night. I curse myself for even remembering what happened to her. It’s not like it doesn’t appear in my dreams on a regular basis. This has to stop because it’s slowly killing me.

Instead I shift my focus on how she looked when she would come in the door after work. Even after a long and tiring day she looked beautiful. She would walk right into the apartment, throw her purse and keys on the table, greet me with a quick kiss on the cheek, and turn away. Our evening ritual was always the same, but she still acted surprised when I would reach out for her wrist. She knew a bigger kiss was coming, and not just a quick peck on the lips. It was a long, slow kiss that would leave her winded. Her eyes would go hazy, and she’d playfully smack me on the chest. She’d continue her walk to the kitchen and grab us two beers from the fridge. I’d be waiting for her on the patio with my feet up. She’d sit on my lap and say, “What’s up Benny Boy?” I’d pretend to get mad at her, but she was the only person I would allow to call me that, and she knew it. We were content with just sitting, drinking beer, and basking in the quiet. I smile, thinking of the memory.

A car horn brings me back to reality. “Shit, I need to pay attention to my driving,” I yell out to no one. Looking at the traffic ahead, I decide to take a quick break at the approaching rest stop. It’s time to get my head in the game. Taking a break, I get out of the car and stare out over the bay. The fog is rolling in, and eeriness comes with it. It’s almost like my life—one big haze surrounding my heart.

What is my next step? I honestly haven’t a clue.

The ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to fester again. Moving forward. Is that even possible for someone as confused as me?

Being surrounded by family this weekend is going to be tough. I’ll have to sit there pretending to listen, nodding my head when appropriate. If I throw in the occasional guttural sound it will appear I’m actively engaged in the conversation.

At some point this weekend I need to make it clear that they need to back the fuck off and let me do things my way. Ah Christ, who am I kidding? They’re family, so they never back the fuck off. Shit, how am I going to make it through the weekend?

“Get your head out of your ass, Sam!” my friend, Jenny, yells to me as we’re working our shift at the university’s pub. My look turns evil, conveying my annoyance with her right now. “What? Oh come on, they’re cute! The one in the green shirt is totally checking you out. You need to get over yourself and get up on that.”

“Okay, who are you right now? You know I don’t ‘get up on that’ the way you so eloquently stated. I have my heartbreak plan, and you know that I’ve sworn off men, especially ones in our pub. They are a bunch of drunken assholes.”

I know Jenny’s just looking out for me, but some days it’s too much to take. We’ve been friends since meeting at Mad Dog Pub at Northeastern University in Boston during our sophomore year three years ago. We both applied for jobs, and Mic, our manager, liked us both, so we were in.

We’ve been inseparable since then. She’s my roommate and knows firsthand how horrible my last break up was. Jenny has become my personal cheerleader when it comes to love, but I don’t want to hear it right now. With graduation looming, my focus is on finishing school, working at my teaching job, and trying like hell not to get involved with any men.

The reality of Jenny leaving me is scary. She’ll be going home soon, and I won’t have her around to keep me on my toes. The fact of the matter is that I’m scared to be without her. Jenny is like family to me since my real one can’t give a shit.

I move behind the bar to pour two pints of beer for my table. Mid-pour I think of my parents and how their divorce fucked up my life. I was like a ping-pong ball, moved from one house to the other at their convenience.

The beer starts to spill over onto my shoes before I have a chance to stop the tap.
Shit
. Placing the drinks on my tray, I remember how my dad traveled all the time and was always too busy for me. He was constantly in between girlfriends and never really settled down until my stepmom, Megan, entered the picture six months ago. When he would call, our conversations were brief and usually in regards to grades and money.

My mother, on the other hand, went from one boy toy to another. I could not keep up with where she was living or with whom. She took the term cougar and made it her own. The last time I was graced with her presence was when she was with Michael. I thought I was going to vomit on the table at the restaurant. I didn’t need to see her being mauled while I tried to eat.

It made me sad to think how we used to be. We were close when I was younger. I remember having movie night every Friday. Mom would introduce me to romantic movies from the 80s and 90s. We would eat popcorn mixed with M&M’s—the perfect combination of sweet and salty. I can’t help but smile when I think of those nights. Then Dad’s business took off, and the money came rolling in. My parents turned into people I didn’t know anymore.

My hip bangs into the side of the bar as I turn the corner with my beers, sloshing the liquid over the edge. “Damn it.”

Jenny stares at me while I wipe up the mess. I know her looks. This one is a mixture of frustration and worry. “Snap out of it! You are so pissing me off. They may be drunk, but they are hot,” she said. She was practically screaming at me, but then lowered her voice. “Look, it’s been almost a year now, and you’ve taken this life plan thing a little too seriously. You’ve got to let this whole ‘no heartbreak’ thing go!” She tries to say more, but I put my hand up in her face, sending the message to just shut it. With a huff, she quickly spins around on her heels and walks away.

Well good, I really don’t need a lecture or pep talk from her right now. I am just fine without anyone’s help. I’m happy with my life. My plan is designed to help me regain some control and perspective on my life. After my third and final attempt at a relationship, I needed to set boundaries. My life plan—or rule, rather—is simple: no relationships. Relationships can only lead me down the dark path of heartache, loneliness, and self-pity. I am not going to let myself feel the pain of loving someone who doesn’t love me back. To be told time and again that I am not enough is not an option for me anymore. There will be no more depressing thoughts. I know how to give love, but I’m done giving it. Nope. I am taking charge and establishing my own happiness, and my plan helps me stay focused and away from the wrong men.

“There you go, Sam. That was a good pep talk,” I murmur quietly as I leave the prep station. I don’t expect to see
him
, sitting in my station, with his bimbo’s tongue in his ear.

Oh no! He was not supposed to come to my work!

“What the fuck? This is just lovely.” I turn to Mic. “You have to let Jenny take table ten. I can’t do it!”

Mic turns and looks at my ex-boyfriend, his face scrunching. “Sorry Sam, Jenny just took her break. You’re going to have to do it. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s like ripping off a band-aid. The faster you take the order, the faster it will be done.”

I know it isn’t easy for Mic to say that to me. He knows firsthand how hard I took my break up with Nathan. A part of what he said is right, though. I need to just rip it off and get my ass over there. He has no control over me anymore.

“You’re an ass, Mic, but I love you anyway,” I say as I kiss his check.

I make my way over to the table, muttering another pep talk to myself. “Okay, deep breath, Sam, you can do this.”
Shit! This is not happening right now.
Five minutes ago I gave myself the best motivational speech, and now I have to look at him with her.

The memories of that night one year ago come slamming into me like a train wreck. I can still see it so clearly. The pain it brought me is still there, just bubbling under the surface, waiting to boil over.

Taking a moment to pause and collect myself, I focus on my breathing. I will not have a panic attack, and he will not see me cry. He will not get to me again. My heart will be safe. The tears that I feel threatening to spill over will not be shed, dammit. “Deep breaths, Sam, you can do this. He can’t hurt you anymore. Ready and go. Count and breathe deeply. One. Breathe. Two. Breathe. Three. Breathe. Okay. You’re ready.” I hold my head high because I’m going to be the bigger person, even though I feel so small.