The Death of Lila Jane (3 page)

May 5, 2013

I laid on the narrow, twin-sized bed, staring beside me at Taylor, in awe of her beauty. Her dark, messy hair skimmed the tops of her sun-kissed shoulders. Her smile was broad and bright, with nervous anticipation of our next kiss. Her hazel eyes looked into mine before they fell on my lips and back to my eyes again.

We’d been dating for six months and she was the one person in the world who saw me, the real me. I’d spent years carefully constructing the walls around my heart to keep others out, but Taylor refused to walk away. She thought my attitude was endearing and refused to give up on me even when I’d given up on myself.

She was the one person I had, besides my mother, who I could confide in. But we still didn’t talk about my biggest fear, losing the people I loved. It was a cloud that hung over us, drowning even our happiest memories in darkness. There was a reason I was hesitant to let Taylor in. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met before and her baggage was suffocating.

I kept my fingers tangled in hers, pulling them to my mouth and pressing my lips against the soft skin of her knuckles. Her cheeks blushed as she scrunched up her nose, sucking her lower lip between her teeth and biting down softly.

“I love you,” the words fell out of my mouth without a second thought of the repercussions. She laughed as my eyes widened at my surprise confession. “I can’t believe I just said that,” I rambled, shaking my head and wondering if I could play it off as a joke.

“I already knew.”

“You did?” My eyes locked onto hers again as she nodded, her expression serious now.

“Of course. You didn’t have to say it. I saw it. I felt it. But I’ll take your secrets to my grave. All of them.”

My heart clenched in my chest, tightening like a vice around her words. “Don’t say that, Tay.” A warm tear slide down my cheek into the blanket below my head, but I didn’t attempt to untangle our fingers to wipe it away. I wanted to hang on to her for as long as possible.

“It’s the truth, Kaden.”

“No.” I rolled to my side and placed my palms on either side of her face, holding her just inches from me, her sweet honey-laced sigh engulfing me as her breathing increased. “I want the lie.” There was nothing worse than feeling helpless. I swore I’d never let anyone make me feel this way again, after my father. But here I was, unable to fix things. Unable to fix
her
. I’d failed as a man and I wasn’t even an adult yet.

Her lips quirked up into a weak smile. “I won’t lie to you, Kaden. We promised that we’d never lie.” Honesty was Taylor’s one condition. We didn’t have time to play games. With all of the adults in her life sugar-coating what was to come, this was all I could give her. Still, it was too much at times.

“Taylor, I need it,” I pleaded, but she shook her head, pressing her eyes closed as her own tears slid from under her long, thick lashes, her breath faltering under the heavy weight of our pain. “Please.”

When her eyes opened, they were red-rimmed and glossed with sadness. Her lips trembled as she told me what I needed to hear in a rushed whisper. “I’m going to marry you, Kaden Harken, down by Willow’s Bend when all of the flowers are in bloom.” Her smile was genuine as she fell into her own fairytale of our future. “I’m gonna wear that church dress you told me made me look like an angel.” 

“Marry me now. Here.”

“What? Kaden, we aren’t even old enough.” The corners of her mouth pulled down in a frown. I was irrational, but love did that to people. Taylor understood and she was patient as I struggled to work through the reality of our nonexistent future.

“Just tell me you love me and want to be with me for the rest of my life.”

“Kaden,” the way she said my name burned a hole through my chest that would never heal. “I can only promise you the rest of my
own
life. But love doesn’t die, even if we do.”

***

August 5, 2015

“Kaden,” A deep voice repeated my name, jolting me from my sleep. My eyes focused on my Uncle Daven, who was standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed in concerns that he wouldn’t voice.

“What?” I groaned, throwing my arm over my eyes and readjusting myself on the bed hoping I could bring Taylor’s vision back to the forefront of my mind.

“Time to get up, ya’. It’s late and I need you to do me a favor.”

“Favor? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“The neighbor needs a ride to ‘da mall in Alexandria.”

“So give him a lift.”

“
Her
. The pischouette
[24]
across da’ road.”

“That freak who stares out her window at me like she is contemplating skinning me alive and making me into a suit?” I moved my arm and opened one eye to look at him, trying to determine if this was some sort of setup. “What are you doin’?”

He shrugged, raising a steaming mug to his mouth as he took a drink, attempting to conceal his smirk. “She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. She’d be a good influence on you.”

“Way to sell it. All I heard from that is she’s a gap-toothed donkey with no friends. I’m not interested.”

“I’m not asking you to take her to prom. Just drive her around and show her a good time. They keep her locked up over ‘der like a chaoui
[25]
in a cage. Pauve ti bete
[26]
.”

I sat up, hanging my head in my hands as the pictures of Taylor faded in my memory, replaced by a pulsing headache as I tried to understand the incoherent ramblings of Daven. “No.”

“Co faire?
[27]
What’s the harm in –”

“No,” I snapped as I glared up at him. He eyed me for a moment before nodding once. “And is it so damn hard for you to speak English? This is America last time I checked.”

“This country was built on the back of immigrants, especially Louisiana. Don’t forget where you came from. Come eat.” His expression was unreadable as he slowly pulled the bedroom door closed, leaving me to wallow in my own self-loathing.
How could I forget where I came from? My entire childhood was pure hell.

I could see exactly what he was doing, but it wouldn’t help anything. All I heard was my father’s angry voice in the echoes of his accent and I wasn’t going to forget about Taylor. Not
ever
. I’d made her a promise of forever and I wasn’t going to break it.

Slipping on my shoes, I wandered out of the bedroom into the main living area. Daven stood over the stove as hazy smoke rose around him, the smell of bacon thick in the air. My hand went to my stomach as it panged with need.

“You shaved,” I pointed out the obvious as I twisted my back, stretching my tight muscles. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few weeks before today, giving him a disheveled, almost homeless quality and the odor of booze mingled with sweat wafting off him didn’t help. If it weren’t for his muscular build, I might have thought he was just squatting in this house like a now stray dog waiting for his owners who’d abandoned him to return.

“I had to do something with my time while waiting for you to get up. You city boys sleep all day, ya’. Must not get much work done,” he quipped but there was a lightness to his words. Maybe he needed some company as much as my mom thought I needed to be around another man.

“I’m still a kid. I don’t have to work.” But the truth was, I busted my ass after I lost Tay, saving away every cent I could. It provided an excellent distraction from actually having to live my life.

“I’ve been working since I was ten, bon rien
[28]
. You’re only a kid because you chose not to be a man. Grab a plate,” Daven called over his shoulder without bothering to turn around. I made my way over to him, pulling open three different cupboards before finding the one filled with mismatched, colorful Fiestaware dishes. I picked a plum plate and sat it down beside the stove.

“These look familiar,” I blurted out as I pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a jug of orange juice.

“Yeah, they belonged to your mamere
[29]
. She passed last winter.”

I silently scolded myself. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, no. Talking about her is good. She talked about you a lot.” He cleared his throat while using the spatula to remove the bacon from the sizzling pan and dropping it on a plate covered with folded paper towels. Hot grease splattered across his bare chest and he jumped back. “Va la merde de fils putian
[30]
!”

I laughed, recognizing the curse words right away. His eyes cut to mine as he suppressed a knowing smirk at my understanding of the language. As hard as I tried to run from my past, it was still there, deep inside of me, struggling to break free. The anger I harbored came directly from my father. It was a sick twist of fate that the very cause of my pain would force me further into his shadow.

“It’s good to remember people we’ve lost, ya’. Share their memories that we carry with us so they don’t weigh so heavily on the soul. Even ‘da bad ones.”

“Bad memories or the bad people?” A faint image of my father crossed my thoughts but I forced it back into the recesses of my mind as quickly as it appeared. My body stiffened as I thought of Taylor, her hazel eyes still seared into the very fiber of my being. “No use dwelling on the past,” I snapped knowing not a day passed that I didn’t think of her. Grabbing a piece of the bacon and shoving it in my mouth, I walked to the front door and slipped out into the relentless heat. The grease burned my tongue as much as my harsh words, but I was too hungry to care. I forced it down as I pulled open the driver door of my car, stepping back as a wave of sweltering heat assaulted me.

“This place is Hell,” I groaned as I bent down and reached across the expansive front seat, grabbing my old notebook that I would write in when everything became too overwhelming. I glanced over my shoulder and through the back window, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the second story window across the street. Backing up, I stood as I squinted my eyes trying to make out who I was looking at when the curtain swung closed. This game of hide and seek had been going on since I’d arrived.

I took in the faux brick exterior of Uncle Daven’s home. The mildew that slicked the trim showed how little he put into upkeep and worrying what the neighbors might think of him. It made me laugh at the sharp contrast to my mother’s concern about her self-image. That was why I was here, after all.
What will the neighbors think?
Guilt panged in my gut because I knew exactly why she was the way she was. The man I was the spitting image of, the one who plagued her nightmares, was the reason she’d become so neurotic and paranoid and she alleviated that panic by becoming obsessive compulsive, struggling to hang on to control anywhere she could grasp.

She couldn’t look at me without seeing his face, even to this day, her eyes would tear up and her chin would quiver but not because she missed him. It was fear that one day would return in the form of genetic inheritance. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as the curtain on the second story window behind me swayed, shadows shifting behind the gauzy haze. That unsettling feeling of being watched caused my spine to stiffen. People didn’t mind their damn business anymore, only looking the other way when someone was crying out for help. Real life was just one giant reality TV show stage. Strangers were merely an audience and not participants.

I shook my head and headed back inside of the house, bypassing my uncle and heading straight to my temporary bedroom.

The book in my hand felt heavy as if it had a force of its own, begging me to flip it open and devour its contents. The memories, the tender slices of my past clawed their way to the surface of my heart as I flipped open the cover and sank down on the edge of the bed, skimming over my sloppy handwriting.

Etched into the paper in ink were the confessions of my broken heart when it felt like the world collapsed around me, suffocating me. My eyes immediately clouded over with sadness, blurring the words and I was grateful for the reprieve from the painful memories.

“Taylor,” her name fell from my lips as a sob wracked my chest. I gripped my hand over my mouth to try to contain the flood of emotions that was quick to follow, but to no avail. Everything came rushing back as the tears escaped. I could smell the vanilla in her hair and feel the gentle rising of goosebumps on her silky flesh as my calloused fingers explored the expanse of her back. Squeezing my eyes shut painfully tight, I begged for the memories to ease, hoping one day I would be able to think of her without feeling like it might kill me.

Flashes of dimples, marred by sympathetic tears assaulted me. I could hear her voice, but she sounded so distant now like my mind could no longer remember the ring of her laughter. I wanted to scream, to beg for those memories to be sharp as the day they’d happened, sharp as the knife piercing my chest.

I promised her forever and she was fading too fast.

Three loud raps on the door startled me, pulling me back into the present, even further from Taylor. If it were possible, I’d crawl into a dark memory of her and never come back out. But I knew that there was nothing else beyond this world. How could there be? What God would steal away someone who was so loved, in the prime of her life? So I was stuck here, without her, until I wasn’t and we both were no more.