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Like a Memory

Abbi Glines


  “He has good parents,” I said more for my sake than anything. Reminding myself what I knew already.

  “I’m glad.”

  I nodded and finally sat up. “He blames me. He blames us. What we did. Him breaking up with her because of me. I . . . I kissed him before he broke up with her. Maybe I am to blame. He could hate me and be justified.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I just don’t understand it. How someone can be so upset that they take their life knowing the devastation they’ll leave behind.”

  Eli let out a deep sigh. “I don’t either. But we don’t know where her head was. She could have been in a twisted dark place and didn’t know how to ask for help. Who to ask.”

  That wasn’t enough for me. Maybe Eli thought she had an excuse but I didn’t She just took lives like they weren’t meaningful. Like every breath we take isn’t a gift. Because it is. I knew that. I knew that every time I saw the sunrise it wasn’t something to take for granted. It was something to be thankful for. It wasn’t to be tossed away. Life was special. No matter how hard it got it could get better. You had to trust that.

  “I know you fought to live, Bliss. You see life as the precious gift it is. I also know that is what you’re sitting there battling over in your head. But people have problems. Their brains betray them. They need help maybe even medication. You don’t know what her thoughts were when she did it.”

  For now, I just needed him to stop. I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t believe it. The wake of sorrow that her selfish choices made would never heal.

  Nate Finlay

  I COULD HEAR their voices downstairs. They were all here. Both my sisters. My Uncle Grant, Aunt Harlow and Lila Kate. Aunt Nan, Uncle Cope, Finn, and I could even hear Calla’s loud voice. They’d let her out of school today it seems. They were all here for me. It was my family. It’s what we did. We were there for each other.

  Although I expected this I didn’t want it. Having Dad show up last night and drive me home had been what I needed. The fact I was too emotionally fucked up to drive hadn’t registered then. But when he and Uncle Grant stepped out of the truck I knew that I wanted them there.

  The large group downstairs, I didn’t want. I needed to be left alone. They couldn’t cheer me up. They didn’t understand it all. No one knew what had happened exactly. They were blaming this on Octavia coming off her meds. She dealt with depression. What I hadn’t told anyone was that I might have put that rope around her neck.

  I knew now she wanted to tell me about the baby. I’d told her I didn’t care with my response. All because I loved Bliss York. Love wasn’t supposed to cause this. It was supposed to make you happy and all that shit that was downstairs. Married people that I’d grown up watching and wondering if love was that great. Or just a lot of work.

  When I finally think maybe they were all on to something, I’m thrown into a nightmare. Fuck being in love. I had wanted easy. I had chosen something more and it screwed up everything. It hurt so many people. It had taken my son. My son. I’d had a son.

  But he was gone. Just like his mother. So quickly. So needlessly.

  My door opened and mom stepped inside and closed it behind her. The apologetic look on her face told me she knew I didn’t want them all here.

  “They’re worried about you,” she said simply.

  I understood that. But I still wanted privacy.

  “You can come eat with us or I’ll bring you up breakfast. But you’ve got to eat.”

  Last night she had been out at the truck before I could even step out of it. Like dad she’d wrapped me in her arms. Her face had been wet with tears and her eyes red and swollen. She hadn’t said anything but that she loved me.

  There had been nothing more to say. She understood me better than anyone. Even dad. Like now. She was quietly coming to check on me. Knowing I wouldn’t want to go down there and face them all.

  “I’ll come down to eat. If I don’t they’ll all start coming up here.” I didn’t want to but not eating wasn’t happening with Blaire Finlay. She was stubborn.

  “I’d like to do a memorial service with just family for him,” she said the words so quietly I almost didn’t hear her. Him. My son. The one who wasn’t given a chance. The pain tore through me again so fiercely I winced. But she was right. We should. He deserved to be remembered. His life acknowledged

  “Okay,” I replied.

  She nodded and tears filled her eyes. She walked over to pull me into her arms again. “He would have been beautiful. Just like you.”

  I didn’t want to think about that now. Maybe one day I’d be able to think of how he would look. What he would have been like. But not now. I wasn’t ready. I let my mother grieve in her own way.

  She let me go and kissed my cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Come when you’re ready,” she told me before turning to leave the room.

  I wasn’t sure I would be ready in the next year but that wasn’t what she meant. She wanted me to come in the next hour. Getting this over with so I could return to my solitude was the best I could do.

  Grabbing a tee shirt, I pulled it on to go with the sweat pants I had slept in. I didn’t care about my hair or brushing my teeth. If my breath stunk they might keep their distance. I prepared myself for all the well meant love and support I was about to walk into and headed downstairs.

  Aunt Nan was talking about Calla getting a bad grade and her threat to pull her out of cheerleading when I walked into the room. They all seemed to notice me at once and the room went silent. No one moved except for Aunt Nan. She immediately got up from her chair and came straight to me. Grabbed my arms and kissed my cheek hard then pulled me tightly into a hug. “You’re strong, Nate Finlay. Tough as nails. You’re going to hurt in a way I can’t imagine but you will make it through. You will find happiness and you will be okay.” Her words were said with such conviction I almost believed them.

  I hugged her back and whispered a “thanks” even though I didn’t think I deserved to ever be okay. When she let me go she turned to my mother. “I’ll fix him some coffee while you get his plate ready.”

  Mom was already working on my food as she nodded.

  “Now don’t you all stand around here acting like the sound of your voices are going to break him. Talk dammit,” Uncle Grant’s words would have made me smile if there was a chance I could have.

  They all started slowly talking again. Mom put my plate down across from where my dad was sitting with his coffee. He had been silent but his steady gaze had been on me. I looked at him and the solemn expression in his eyes said more than any words. He was worried about me and wanted to fix this but knew he couldn’t.

  “You sleep?” he asked as I sat down.

  “Some.”

  He nodded and took a drink of his coffee. His eyes shifted to Uncle Grant as he sat down beside me. “Love you, kid,” he told me as he squeezed my shoulder.

  I knew that. I knew they all did but they were all at a loss of what to say.

  Finn stood nervously to the side a few feet away but I saw him watching me. He wasn’t sure if he should get closer or what to do. I turned to my younger cousin. “Have a sit,” I told him nodding to the chair to my right. “It’s okay.”

  Finn was nineteen now. When he had been born, he’d been a baby that bored me. But soon he had become my little shadow and I liked it. Having him look up to me and mimic me made me feel important. He was the little brother I never had. Although he was much larger than me now. He was the size of his father and Uncle Cope was a big man. He was also quieter like his dad. His sister however was like Aunt Nan. She was chatty and loved attention.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn said in his deep voice.

  “Me too,” I replied.

  Arms wrapped around my neck from behind. Expensive perfume met my nose then a kiss was pressed to my cheek. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. That was Ophelia. The sister I had adored until she stole my bedroom and painted it
pink. I’d been one angry six-year-old boy. But Phoenix had been born and my parents needed Ophelia’s room for the nursery. And I was the oldest so they moved me into the far bedroom. I finally forgave her when she came into my room crying big crocodile tears after they brought Phoenix home from the hospital. She wasn’t the baby anymore and she was afraid they’d forget her or give her away.

  I reached up and touched her arm. I didn’t have to say anything to her. She knew I was glad she was here. We didn’t see each other as much anymore and I missed her. Having them all here wasn’t as bad as I thought. Their voices all began to grow louder as several conversations took place.

  Eating my breakfast, I listened and tried to join in when they wanted me to. But my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t sure I even had one anymore.

  Bliss York

  WINE WAS GOOD. I liked wine. No, I loved wine. It could possibly be the best thing ever made. Jesus liked the wine. He turned water into wine. The wine is good. Definitely yummy.

  I stared at the three empty bottles sitting on the bar while I ate out of the bag of potato chips I had bought when I bought the wine. Shame I was out of the wine. I needed more but I wasn’t sure if I left this apartment that I’d find my way back. I would have to walk. I may be drunk but I wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t drive. Not like this.

  A few chips missed my mouth and I watched them fall to the floor. I should pick them up. But I didn’t care. Eli would care. I should pick them up for him. Instead I put the bag of chips down and moved to the brownies I had also purchased. Brownies were good. Maybe as good as the wine. But I don’t think Jesus ate brownies. No there were never brownies mentioned in Sunday School. I wonder when brownies were created. Should Google it. Find out and celebrate their birthday.

  The door closed and I jumped, screamed, and dropped my brownie. I probably wouldn’t pick it up either.

  “Bliss?” Eli’s voice caught my attention.

  “Hello, Eli.”

  His gaze went from me to the wine bottles and the food I had been consuming all open on the counter.

  “You okay? Larissa called and said you didn’t show up for work.”

  Oh, yeah. Work. I wasn’t in the mood for work. I had taken off last week because leaving my room had been too much. I’d avoided everyone I could. Then when it was time for me to go to work I drove right passed it went to the grocery store instead and bought wine, chips, brownies, birthday cake, hot wings, and some grapes.

  “I was hungry. And thirsty instead,” I explained.

  “I can see that.”

  I handed him the box of brownies. “These are good. The have little candies on them instead of nuts. Want one? I drank all the wine but I have food left.”

  His eyes went wide. “You drank three bottles of wine?”

  Sighing I nodded. “Yeah. I should have bought four.”

  “No, you should have bought one,” he said. “Let’s stop for the night okay. You’ve had enough of everything it seems. You won’t feel good in the morning. Time you went to bed. You go lay down and I’ll bring you a glass of water and an aspirin.

  I started to argue that I was still hungry but my stomach rolled and I felt sweaty. “Okay,” I agreed and began walking to the bathroom. I didn’t feel good. Not at all. My stomach rolled again just as I reached the door to my bathroom and I ran to the toilet hitting my knees with a thud just before it all came back up. One heave after another.

  When it finally stopped and all I had was a few dry heaves I felt Eli behind me. He had my hair in his hand. I wanted to lay down here and started to but a cold washcloth was on my face and it felt nice.

  “That will help in the morning. You got it all out now. Let’s get you to bed.”

  I stood up as he picked me up under my arms and staggered into my bedroom. My bed seemed so far away and sleeping on the floor was a good idea. I tried. Eli wouldn’t let me though. He forced me to keep walking and when I finally made it across the great ocean of my room I fell down face first. Into soft warmth. My bed.

  I’d never been really drunk. Never thrown up because of alcohol. Never slept in my clothes all night with vomit breath. Until now. Opening my eyes hurt. But what was worse was the taste in my mouth. Yuck. Closing my eyes helped with the pain. Didn’t help with the nasty in my mouth though.

  Voices were in the apartment. Eli wasn’t alone. I didn’t want to get up and I hoped no one came in here. Last night hadn’t been my finest hour. It might have been my lowest one. But for awhile, I was happy. I had food and the alcohol helped with the emptiness and sorrow that I had been trying to live with the past week.

  “I told you she’s okay, Larissa. Leave her alone.” Eli’s voice was loud enough for it to be clear through the door.

  “She missed work. She’s not come out of her room in a week. She’s hurting Eli and she needs help. She needs someone to pull her out of it.”

  Larissa knew. They all knew now. It had made the news. Octavia’s father was too well known for it not to. The entertainment world had gone on about her ended relationship with Dean Finlay’s grandson. Seeing it had been terrible. Knowing Nate wasn’t able to hide and mourn in peace.

  My door opened then and I squinted my eyes to see Larissa coming in. She closed the door behind her. “I get that you’re hurting. The whole thing is tragic. Terrible and it kills me that you’re dealing with this. You of all people should get to live in a happy world where shit don’t happen. But it does happen. It hurts. You know that more than anyone. As your friend, I am here to get you out of bed, showered and dressed and out of this place. We are going to get food, walk down the beach, shop, whatever. You aren’t staying in here another day.”

  I wanted to argue but I didn’t think I had a chance with her.

  “And good for you, getting drunk. Skipping work. And doing the unexpected. It’s about time. You can’t be perfect, Bliss. No one is.”

  I wasn’t trying to be perfect, was I?

  “Up. Come on. You stink like wine and vomit.” She pulled my arms and I sat up. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re going to be okay. Life is going to go on and you will heal. You’ll find that happiness. And he will heal too.”

  Tears stung my eyes. This wasn’t about me. Not about my pain. It was about Nate’s. “She killed his son.” That was all I could say.

  Larissa wrapped me in her arms. “Yeah. She did. He’s going to suffer that for a long time. But one day he will find a way to move on. He will always remember but he will heal too.”

  “I want that for him. He’ll never be mine. I’ll always be a reminder. That hurts so bad. I don’t want him to think of me an immediately remember this.”

  Larissa squeezed me tightly. “In time you won’t remind him of this. You’ll remind him of a happier time. One he cherishes.”

  She was wrong. But I let her say it anyway.

  Nate Finlay

  A CUP OF coffee appeared in front of me as I sat staring out at the waves crashing on the sand. Tilting my head back, I looked up at Lila Kate. She’d been quiet this week. Not said much at the family gatherings or the memorial. But that was her. She wasn’t loud like Calla. She didn’t do things to draw attention like Phoenix. And she wasn’t striking like Ophelia. She was just . . . well she was just like her mother.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked taking the seat beside me. Lila Kate would have been my partner in crime when we were kids if she hadn’t been so damn sweet. She was so good and obedient I never could have much fun with her. Cruz Kerrington and I were always into some trouble and Lila Kate was always there worried about us and trying to talk us out of it. We were thrown together from birth. Teasing Lila Kate had been one of our favorite things to do.

  That all changed with Cruz kissed Lila Kate when he was thirteen and she was fourteen. Then the next week Cruz was kissing Melanie Harnett. Lila Kate never spoke to him again. Cruz didn’t seem to notice. He went through a different girl every week. I knew Lila Kate kissing Cruz had been different than when
she kissed me. We hadn’t enjoyed the experience. However, it was obvious she didn’t feel that way about kissing Cruz.

  The one thing that I always noticed though was Lila Kate watched him. For years. He never saw it or her. Cruz was wrapped up in his world. Didn’t see much past his next good time. But I saw her. Probably because I often wondered if our parents were right. Maybe we belonged together. Then I would think about how much like a sister she was and throw that idea out fast.

  “It sucks,” I finally replied to her question.

  “Yes, I imagine it does.”

  Lila Kate didn’t have to say a lot. She was just comforting with her silence. I always liked that about her.

  “You’ve got them all worried. Blaire was at mom and dad’s today. I walked in the kitchen to see her crying. Mom was talking to her.”

  That was another thing about Lila Kate, she didn’t hold back because she was worried about hurting you. She was sweet and kind but blunt. Honest was probably a better description.

  “I don’t like making her cry. But I can’t pretend that I’m okay.”

  “I didn’t say you could. Just letting you know what’s going on.”

  We sat there for a while drinking our coffee. I knew she wasn’t done yet. She was going to say more but was deciding what to say and how to say it. I didn’t care to hear anyone’s opinion. No one knew what all I had lost. They didn’t know there was more. That I loved a woman and had caused this. That although Octavia and my son were dead, I still loved Bliss when that love had been why this happened. Telling anyone that seemed impossible.

  At the memorial for my son, I had wanted Bliss there. To stand beside me. To give me comfort. I needed her. Yet I didn’t deserve her. There was a grave marked “Baby Finlay” that said I didn’t deserve any happiness.

  Bliss was happiness for me.

  “Who was she? The girl from the letter. .”

  No one had asked me that. Octavia’s letter had said that she hoped I lived happily with the woman I threw her away for. We had all read the note. Her father made sure I saw it. He blamed me for Octavia getting off her meds. For me turning my back on her. And he should. When she’d wanted to talk I should have let her. Then my son would still have had a chance.

  “I love her. I have since I was sixteen years old. But that doesn’t matter anymore.”