Brisé (7 page)

Tonight, after all of the casseroles have been stored away, instead of sitting on the couch for me to hold her she asks, “Can we go up to my room? I want to stretch out, but I don’t want to be alone.” I nod at her and follow her upstairs.

She waits for me to climb on the bed and follows me down, climbs halfway on top of me and cuddles. It feels good to hold her, it feels like home. “Luke, I’m lost.” Her voice is so far away, and she is floundering. She doesn’t know which way is up right now, and I have to help her.

“About what?”

“My passion was never to dance on stage, you know that. Two weeks ago my mom took me to an audition I promised her I would go to. They’ve offered me a position with their ballet company. It’s
Joffrey Ballet,
out of Chicago. I feel like I owe it to my mom to try this. I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“Twinkle, you were beautiful up there.” She opens her mouth to interrupt me. “I was there. No matter what I’ve always been there, whether you knew it or not. I don’t think you could ever disappoint your mom, but you need to do what you want to do. Follow your heart, and I’ll follow it, too.”

I can tell she is on overload and wants to ask questions. I softly kiss her lips and pull her to me. “Go to sleep, we have our entire lives to figure it out. But just know my plan was always you. This may speed things up, but it didn’t change them. You are my life, Phoebe Wells, and I go where you go, so don’t let me factor in your decision. We’ll figure it out.”

“Love you,” she whispers, and I hear her voice crack with emotion.

I look down at her and speak the words I’ve never said, “I.Love.You.” I tell her so clearly and concisely there is no doubt in her mind what I mean, and for the first time in forever, I see a smile on her face as her eyes close.

She softly whispers, “I thought I felt you . . . that day in auditions.” That leaves me confused, but before I can question her, she’s asleep.

Chapter 8

Phoebe

You know when that one moment happens in life and you instantly know nothing will ever be the same? I experienced that twice this week; losing my parents irrevocably changed my life, who I was at the core. I will never be able to hear their voices, never feel their arms around me, and never be able to see the pride shining in their eyes when I do the most mundane tasks. The boy I fell in love with at four, whether I knew what love was or not, said those three words. The first time he promised to be my superhero, I fell in love with him, and that feeling has never gone away. Sometimes words can be so insignificant, but not those words, not coming from Luke. They breathed life into my soul, they mimicked every action he had done for me the past thirteen years, and they helped heal me. A little piece of me. Three tiny words wiggled their way into my being, through my veins, pumping blood to my shattered heart, and they gave me a new purpose. No matter what I did in life, I had Lucas Nichols, and I had his love.

I am as happy as can be, but I’m feeling guilty. Guilt that I smiled so soon after burying my parents, guilt that I may sacrifice my dreams to fulfill my mom’s. I know they wouldn’t want that, but I think if she could look down and see me dancing on a stage with a prestigious ballet company, then I wouldn’t feel like I let her dream die. I don’t know how to interchange her dream for mine, but I feel like I have to try. Luke swears he will be by my side, but I worry how this will affect his dreams, his goals for life. He makes it seem like his goal is to be with me, shelter me, and love me, but I don’t want him to let go of what he envisions for his life to make me happy. Luke and Phoebe are back, and we’ll be okay. I don’t have to make any decisions right now. I have until November to decide. Six months to make a decision that could change the entire course of my life. I deferred the invitation until I was eighteen. I want this to be my decision, and I want to be able to sign that contract if it’s what I choose. I never want to place that burden on anyone else.

There are so many other tasks at hand to deal with, or rather, for Luke to deal with. He’s adamant that I don’t have to handle anything, this is what my parents wanted, and they ensured it with every detail they laid out in their will, and by making Luke guardian and conservatorship of the money they left. I know it’s substantial, and I won’t have to worry about things for a while . . . a long while. So, I decide not to worry or dwell on the future. Live for today, and love for always. He has spoken to his professors and is supposed to go down tomorrow and take all his exams so I sent him home to study. His hesitation at leaving me broke my heart. I know he needs to pass these tests and I explained to him I could use some down time. I want to walk around my home, the only house I remember growing up in and try and soak in as much of my parents, their strengths, their beliefs, as I can. I needed them now more than ever.

I wander into their bedroom, standing there just taking it all in. I can smell my mom’s scent, barely lingering in the air from the body spray she used. It’s faint, and I know before long it will be gone. I shut the door, hoping to trap it but I know that’s irrational. All things in life fade, but for one more second I want to hold on to this. I want my mom back; I want to hear her clap for me when I complete a dance sequence. I want to hear her funny little quotes and sayings. I want my dad here. I want to see his stupid beanie he always wore, no matter the weather. He used to tell me,
“It makes me look smart.”
He didn’t need that fucking beanie, he was the smartest man I knew. Calm, gentle, and quiet. If he had something to say, it was important and you had better listen. My mom, on the other hand, always had something to say, so you had to read between the lines to get her message. I want to crawl into my dad’s lap like I had so many times over the years and hear him tell me it would be okay, assure me that this too will pass. But it won’t. I have this gaping hole I will live with the rest of my life and the entirety and finality hits me with a crushing blow.

I break like I never have. No pretty tears, but sobs pulled from the pit of my stomach; so hard and wracking I can’t even catch my breath. I fucking hate God right now. I don’t even feel guilty about it. Why my parents? They were good people, they loved with everything they had, challenged and nurtured me. They were relevant in my life; they gave me life and fought for it. Our journey could have made them hardened and bitter, scared for what each day would bring, but it didn’t. Instead, they embraced every moment, every success, every set back, every damn day they embraced it. No more. They’re gone. I didn’t get to say goodbye, to tell them how much I fucking loved them. I could have held their hands, I could have told them how much they meant to me, how I’ll never forget them. Instead, I have to say it to air, to a grave marker, to my destroyed heart, and I have to pray to the God I am loathing that I don’t forget them. Their smiles, their sound, and the way they made me feel each and every day. I am so afraid the memories will start to fade, and I won’t have any pieces of them. I know I was lucky; I had them in my life for seventeen years, but I can’t stop wondering why them? Why did you let me survive all those years, beat cancer, just to rip my life away in one brutal moment? Why couldn’t you have taken me all those years ago?

I beat my hands on the hardwood floors. The pain in my chest is crushing me, unrelenting, stabbing pain, and I want it all to go away. I don’t want to live with the memories, but I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to see happy pictures, but I would do anything to see their smiling faces one more time. I don’t want to remember their encouragement, but I never want to lose the faith they had in me. I try to stand, but my knees give out leaving me huddled on the floor. I know hours pass by, and I just lie there inhaling the fragrance left in the air, the last tangible thing I have of them. That’s how Luke finds me, battered and beaten down by the events of life this past week. I came to a fork in the road today, and I tripped over every fucking root in the ground and cannot pick myself up. So he does. Just like he promised, he picks me up and gives me his legs when I can’t walk, his air when I feel like mine is being choked out of me, and he pours all the strength he has into my feeble beating heart. He wraps his arms around me and gives me every ounce of his love. It seeps out of him, enveloping me in its warmth. His love creates a barrier from the outside forces I can’t bring myself to overcome. His love will heal me; it has to because nothing else is worth it. He is silent as he carries me to my room, never saying a word as he strips me and places me underneath my covers. He takes his place right beside me and holds me throughout the night. No words are spoken because the three he said to me last night, he just proved them. With his love, it’s worth it.

The next morning he is again reluctant to leave. “Luke, go. I promise I’ll be fine. No more yesterdays, only tomorrows.” I get teary saying that; it was one of my mom’s favorite quotes. I’m sure the watery eyes don’t convince him I won’t have another break down. Thing is, after yesterday’s ‘episode’ I feel better. Stronger actually.

“I can put it off another day or even next week.” He has made up his mind, and I have to change it.

“No, I’ll go to your house and sit with your mom. She can watch me like a hawk and call you if I am losing it.” I smile at him.

“You sure?” I don’t know if he isn’t ready to leave me, or if he’s truly worried.

“I’m positive.” He leads me to his house and gently kisses me before he heads to school to finish his exams. It will be late when he gets home, but I know I’ll be in his arms tonight. That kiss evoked a longing in me, and I realize he hasn’t touched me other than comforting me. He seems afraid it’s too much, but it isn’t. It’s exactly what I need. I can feel Mrs. Nichols watching every breath I take, and I know she’s worried about me. I’m worried about her, she was my mom’s best friend, and I know she is hurting as much as I am.

“Momma Nichols,” I call her to sit next to me. “It’s okay if you need to cry. I don’t need everyone to tiptoe around me. It hurts, I know, but we can be sad together.”

She hugs me to her. “Sad doesn’t begin to explain how I feel about losing Emily . . . fucking devastated sums it up.” Her voice is cracking, but I start laughing. A real laugh, not the ‘she’s going crazy’ laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Luke’s mom swear. Now my mom, it was a form of English to her.

“I never thought hearing a cuss word would soothe my soul the way that just did.” When she starts laughing and promises to throw them out daily, a small crack in my heart heals. I feel the blood flow back through and take my first deep breath. A new breath of life. The rest of the afternoon is spent with swear words and chick flicks. Shedding tears and breathing life into one another. I can almost feel my mom’s presence and know that I haven’t really lost her. Maybe physically, but as long as my heart remains open, she’ll always be there. Both of them will.

Luke finds us cuddled on the couch, small grins on our faces, and emotionally drunk. He tries to scoop me up after telling his mom goodnight, but I refuse to let him carry me. I will stand on my two feet and be the girl my parents raised. I will mourn them, grieve for my loss, but I will never disappoint them. I will have bad days, everyone does, but I will make the good days count double. I grab Luke’s hand and smile at him. A real, genuine smile that I feel. He smiles back at me, and just in that moment, we are Luke and Phoebe, again.

He locks up behind me and follows me up to my room. “Want me to take the guest bedroom?” He’s unsure if I still need him which is so fucking adorable.

“Not on your life.” He shucks his shirt and my mouth waters. He leaves on his loose shorts and rids himself of his shoes and socks and crawls in bed with me. I snuggle into him and count the beats of his heart, letting the steady rhythm lull me to sleep.

“Twinkle, what did you mean by you felt me at your audition?”

I take a deep breath, preparing myself to humiliate myself. “I don’t know exactly. I always sense when you are around. You’re a calming presence, but can send me into a raging inferno at the same time. I can’t really explain it, but sometimes, I just feel you; your eyes on me, like a safety net. It sounds stupid.”

“It sounds perfect,” he simply says. And I guess that’s what this is right now, perfection. Until the dispute over graduation comes the next day.

“What do you mean you don’t want to walk at graduation, Phoebe?” He is shocked, and his voice is strained trying to reign in his temper.

“I just don’t.” I know my feelings are valid, but I don’t want to sound like a baby either. He just pins me with his stare, and I find myself singing like a bird. “I won’t have anyone there for me. My parents . . .” He immediately pulls me to him, surrounding me with his arms.

“I’ll be there, Phoebe. I will cheer so fucking loud, my parents will be there, and your parents . . . your parents will be there. Right here.” He places his hand over my heart and my hand over his heart. “They live right here, always.” In this moment, I don’t think anyone could doubt why I fall in love with him, all over again, each and every day. He is mine, and I am his. Simple as that. I find myself nodding, agreeing to go to graduation.

Each day passes as the one before it. Luke by my side, me making it through another day, and surviving. I know one day I’ll wake up and begin to live again, enjoy going through the motions of life, smile easier, laugh again, but until that day comes, I’m grateful I have my protector. My soul. The other half of my heart.

I am standing on the stage, fighting back tears as I wait for our principal to call my name so I can get my diploma. Momma Nichols tried to channel my mom by taking hordes of pictures beforehand, and when she couldn’t get the flash and timer to work, she gave up with a “Fuck it.” I giggled while Mr. Nichols and Luke stared at her in shock. True to her word of swearing to make it seem like my mom was here, she looked at me with a smirk and a wink and ignored her boy’s disbelief. My knees shake and when I hear my name I can barely muster the strength to take that first step. Then I hear his cheering, his whistles, and I look out to see his face, beaming at me and encouraging me silently to leap. I take that first step on my own and make him proud. So I do. I would do anything for that boy. It almost seems as if everyone else in the auditorium is silent because all I can hear is him, but as I look around, almost every person is standing and cheering, Luke’s exuberance and pride spread to others in attendance. I notice two empty chairs beside him, and I stop walking. In one chair he has my dad’s beanie, and the other he has a pair of my mom’s pointe shoes. I almost crumble right there, but I don’t. I take another step, then one more and finally I have my diploma in my hand and my man in my sights. He made sure my parents were there with me, in memory and in spirit. I love him. It’s that simple, but yet that complex at the same time.