Remembering Phoenix (22 page)

Texas weather can be so unpredictable. One day it can be seventy and sunny, the next it could be thirty and snowing. The next day could be thunderstorms and tornadoes.

Today it’s raining. I guess April showers will bring May flowers. Right now, it's just bringing me aggravation.

I button up my coat and flip open the umbrella as I slowly walk through the cemetery towards my parents.

I haven’t come out here since their funeral. I don’t really see the need because they’re not here. Some people go to a grave site to feel closer to their loved ones that have passed away. I’ve just never understood that thought process. I don’t feel closer to my parents when I come out here. I see a cold head stone that’s etched with their dates-of-birth and their identical death dates.

But something brought me out here today.

I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach; their graves on my mind. So here I am, on this very strange day, standing out in the rain.

I walk over to their head stones marked
Randy & Patty Beck – Forever Loves.
A twinge of sadness creeps into my chest as I read over the engraved words. They were forever loves. Together since they were thirteen years old. You don’t find a connection like that anymore.

Or maybe you do.

I was naïve in thinking that Charlie could have been my forever love. I felt something with her I never felt with anyone. Not even Jodi. We had this connection—like our meeting was kismet, for a reason. I guess that reason was for me to fall hard for a girl who is incapable of staying anywhere but in her own head. I should have known, but when it came to Charlie, I couldn’t turn away, no matter how hard I tried. I thought she needed me, but as it turns out, I was purely selfish in not being able to let her go.

I kick at the wet grass, the raining pelting down, splashing up on my shoe. “Well, Mom, you always loved the snow.” I laugh lightly. I spin the umbrella in my hands. “I don’t really know why I’m here. But I am. Well, I love you and Dad. Miss you both so much. Guess I better get in the heat.”

I bend down, laying a single, long-stemmed rose in front of their head stone.

I turn to head back towards my truck when I sense someone else is around. I turn and look, seeing someone curled up about a hundred yards away. I can’t make out the description through the rainfall, but I can hear their faint cries. My curiosity is piqued, so I make my slow walk over, not wanting to disturb whoever is grieving.

As I get nearer, I see black Chucks, dark skinny jeans, black jacket, and a dark gray hat covering short, blonde, rain-soaked hair. For a moment, I think it’s Charlie, but my eyes must be playing tricks on me. The hair is too short. My heart falls in my chest, and I scold myself for wishing it were her. She obviously wants nothing to do with me. That was made clear the other day when she walked out of the designer’s office.

The doors were nearly shut when I was able to slip my hand between it, opening them back up. By the time I was able to run out of the building, she was gone. All I wanted to do was talk to her, see if she was okay, but she ran.

I turn and walk away, but I suddenly feel this pull, like a string tightening with every step I take. I halt when I hear a faint whisper. “I’m so sorry, Phoenix.”

My entire body stills at the desperate, broken sound of her voice. I spin back around as quickly as I can and see her cradling over the grave. She turns her head ever-so-slightly so that I’m able to see her profile.

Charlie.

Her hair is short, cut off just above her shoulders. It fits her, and doesn’t cover up her scar.

Watching her, broken and bleeding out her heart on this cold, wet ground, crushes me. It doesn’t matter if she walked away after what happened between us. It wouldn’t have mattered if she single-handedly cut my heart out of my chest cavity, which it feels like she did. She needs me. And whether she likes it or not, I’m not leaving her to suffer alone.

Without thinking, my feet start moving in her direction. With each step, my heart beats harder against my chest. The realization that she’s the reason I’m here slams into me like a truck. “Charlie?” My voice is cracked with nerves and worry.

It’s as if everything goes in slow motion. She inhales a deep breath right before she turns her head in my direction. Her eyes are masked with smeared makeup and rain, her scar is red and puffy from her spiked emotions. None of it takes away from the sheer and utter beauty that is her.

I fill the space between us, joining her on the ground. I wrap my arms around her tiny, trembling frame. “I just wanted him to show me everything is going to be okay. I needed to know everything was going to be okay,” she cries into my chest. “Then you showed up.” She looks up at me, tears continuously streaming down her face. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is broken, dripping with heartbreak.

I place two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “For what?”

“I ran. I pushed you away. I did what I do best. I closed myself off from you. From everyone.” She wipes underneath her eyes, stray makeup smearing underneath her cheek bone. “I ran, and somehow you still showed up when I needed saving. You always show up. It’s like fate. Fate always brings you to me.”

I bring my lips down, kissing her forehead. A small part of me wants to get up and walk away, leaving her alone, just like she did me. But, that’s selfishness talking. A much larger part wants to kiss every bit of her heartbreak away. It’s a war between want and need, pride and possibility.

Charlie wins. She’s always going to win, because even if she doesn’t want me, I damn sure want her.

“I told you that I’ve got you. I meant that. But I can’t do that if you shut me out again. You can’t run anymore, Charlie. Don’t fight fate.”

“I don’t know why I came here. I don’t even remember driving.” Her words falter from holding back the tears. “I was at home. Then, I was here.” She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Today is his birthday. He would have been seven.”

I hug her, not knowing what to say. There’s no words you can say to a grieving mother that will dampen the flames of pain. No amount of ‘sorry’ will undo what was done to her. She needs someone. She needs
me.
So that’s exactly what she’s going to get, and I don’t plan on going away. And I damn sure won’t let her walk away again.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you, Charlie.” I stand up, trying to brush the excess water off of my jeans, then hold my hand out for Charlie to take. She places her tiny, wet hand in mine. We walk hand-in-hand to my truck, leaving behind the cemetery, but not the dark cloud over it. “Come with me. You can get your car later.”

If you would have asked me months ago if I believed in angels, I would have said no. If you asked me right now if I believed in them, I’d just point to my left.

I don’t remember the drive over to the cemetery. I don’t remember the walk to Phoenix’s grave. I don’t remember
anything
but the waterfall of tears I shed as I stooped over his grave. The etched stone felt so cold to the touch. That dash between his birth and death dates hold so many things.

Love.

Life.

Memories.

I just want the memories that lie in that dash. I want to grab it, open it up, and engrave every second within me so deeply that
nothing
could wipe it away.

When Slayter showed up, I was crying, begging, pleading, for a sign that everything would be okay. That I would be okay. Then I heard my name.
“Charlie.”
I was sure I was hearing things. I couldn’t believe, out of all the cemeteries in this county, all the people filling this city,
he
was the person who showed up.

He’s my angel.

He showed me what it feels like to be completely adored, cherished, and
wanted
. And I pushed him away. I shut him out after he breathed life into me.

I’m such a coward. But how should I react once I finally find that ounce of happiness in my life when it’s been nothing but dark and lonely? How am I supposed to react when I told myself to never let anyone else in?

I got scared. I got scared because of all the feelings inside me he was able to bring to life. Him getting angry at my denial of our relationship wasn’t the reason I pushed him out. I just used that, along with everything else, as an excuse.

“Charlie.” Slayter’s deep, husky voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?” My voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse from crying. He places his hand over mine, gently grabbing a hold, interlacing our fingers together.

“We’re at my place. I want you to get inside and get a hot shower.” He brushes his lips across my knuckles, instantly warming my heart. “You’ve been shaking uncontrollably the entire ride over.”

I look down at my legs and see them steadily trembling. I will them to stop, not wanting him to see that I’m so torn up right now. I turn my head away from him. I know my eyes are red and puffy from the endless tears I’ve cried. “I’m fine,” I lie.

“You’re not.”

I don’t reply. He and I both know he’s right. I’m not fine. I’m heartbroken. I’m bitter. I’m angry. I’m lost. They say there’s no greater heartache than burying a child. I say there’s no greater heartache than forgetting one.

“Let’s get inside,” he says, hopping out of his truck. I open the door and get down just as he reaches my side of the truck. His hand finds the small of my back as we slowly walk up the cobblestone walkway to his house. I’ve seen the gray brick house, with perfectly trimmed shrubs, numerous times, but I’ve never paid attention to the tiny details. Like the small angel, with praying hands, sitting right next to the doorstep. I pause, not able to take my eyes off of it. “It was my mother’s,” Slayter whispers against my ear. I shiver, but not from being drenched and cold. I shiver from his closeness, and the heat of his breath floating across my neck.

“It’s beautiful,” I finally say.

Slayter walks me in, ushering me to the bathroom. “I don’t have any girly shampoo or soap. And I’ll have to try to find something of mine for you to slip on. I’ll wash and dry your clothes if you want. And, uh…” He’s rambling without looking at me in the eyes. I feel so guilty. Can he not look at me because I made him angry? Has he seen my darkest side one too many times to have any feelings for me anymore? “I’ll let you shower now.”

He exits the bathroom, leaving me alone and still so extremely broken. I toe my shoes off, then discard my clothes, lying them on the edge of his Jacuzzi tub. I throw my beanie on the counter and run my fingers through my newly short hair. There came a point when life kept me in the undertow. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I had absolutely no control over anything. So I took control of one thing. I chopped my hair off. It made a small weight lift off my shoulders. An extremely small weight, but something, nonetheless.

“Here.” Slayter barges into the bathroom holding a stack of clothes. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but doesn’t turn his gaze from me. I grab the towel from off the top of the shower and wrap it around me, feeling far too bared for comfort. It makes no sense since he’s seen every part of me already, but this is different. We’re at a different place. I’m at a different place.