Southern Storms

by Cherry, Brittainy

  Every time I spoke to Yoana, the worry in her voice grew stronger. I sometimes wished she wasn’t so good at reading me—even through a cell phone speaker—but my sister knew the heaviness in my soul was so hard to handle some days.

  “I’m okay,” I kept promising her. I felt bad for promising lies, but she was halfway around the world—so there was nothing she could do for me to make everything better. My anxiety and sadness needed to be dealt with by me and only me. No one else could save me.

  Well, no one except maybe Joy Jones.

  As I was stuck in my house, wandering back and forth in my dining room anticipating yet another night of failed sleep, I heard a tapping at my window. I looked up and saw Joy standing there, throwing something in my direction. She was reaching out of her fully opened window, tossing things in my direction to get my attention while allowing her arm to get extremely soaked.

  Uncertain what she was doing, I went and opened my window. “Hi,” I said hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” I knew she was in her late eighties, and if there was something to be alarmed about, I wanted to help her the best I could. I knew I wasn’t the most stable person, but if I could somehow build up enough courage to help another, I was all over that idea.

  “Hi, sweetheart, yes. I just wanted to see if you’d like to come over for a cup of tea,” she sweetly replied.

  “Um, it’s past ten at night, Joy.”

  Her smile spread, and she nodded once. “So wine?”

  I laughed and agreed. What else was I going to do? Sit and overthink everything for the remainder of the night? I tossed on a raincoat and boots. When I opened my front door and saw the downfall of rain along with the lightning striking above, my chest tightened with nerves.

  Just walk, Kennedy. It’s right next door.

  But I can’t move.

  The more the sky cried, the more tightness gathered in my chest as the sense of panic began building. I should’ve been better at this. I should’ve been able to walk forward without concern. But flashes of the night from the accident swirled in my mind, and I hadn’t been able to push them away.

  I can’t do it, I thought to myself, closing my eyes from embarrassment, from shame.

  “Yes, you can,” a voice called out. I turned to my left to see Joy smiling my way with the most sincere look. “Come on now, you’re not alone. Just a few steps, and your glass of wine awaits.”

  “I… My…” I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. My hands were beginning to tremble as the fear began filling me up inside.

  “It’s okay to be afraid, sweetheart,” Joy commented. “You can be afraid and brave all at the same time. Now, come on. The wine is chilled, and the company is good. Even if you have to hold your breath and dash over here, do it. Then we can breathe together.”

  I did as she said. I held my breath and dashed across the yard, wrapping around the sidewalk and sprinting up her footpath. The moment I made it up to her front porch, I ran into her house without being invited in, like a crazed lunatic.

  I shivered in her foyer, shaking off the rain, and Joy followed me inside, handing me a towel she already had waiting. “There we are.” She smiled. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  If only she knew the speed of my pounding heart. It had been a lot harder than it seemed.

  “White or red?” she asked.

  “Um, white if you have it.”

  “Oh, honey, I have everything. Now, come on, sit down on the sofa and make yourself comfortable. I made a little charcuterie board for us to snack on while we chat. It’s right there on the table if you want to pick at it.”

  “Thanks, Joy.”

  I took a seat on her sofa and tried to tame my still-elevated heart rate. Her house was very much a home in that everything felt authentic and important. The walls were covered with mismatched frames displaying black and white pictures that highlighted all the beautiful moments in her life. Plus, all of her furniture was vibrant, and there was no shortage of light because different lamps both short and tall were scattered around.

  There was a wall of art pieces that were spotlighted and so beautiful. There were paintings and sculptures that radiated such warmth. It was as if I were in a museum looking at masterpieces. Simply breathtaking.

  When Joy came back, she had the biggest wine glasses I’d ever seen in my life, and within a split second, she was officially my new best friend. Each glass had to hold at least half a bottle of wine on its own.

  I smiled, pleased. “That’s a very impressive glass.”

  She handed it over to me. “Some nights call for bigger glasses.”

  Hear, hear.

  “How did you know I needed a break for wine?” I joked, sipping at probably the best glass of white wine I’d ever had in my life.

  “I’ve noticed you pacing back and forth the past few nights. Not that I was spying or anything, but my reading nook is right across from your dining room. I figured you couldn’t sleep during storms.”

  “They shake me up a little,” I confessed, seeing no reason to lie about it. “So, thank you. I really appreciate the company. I have to admit, I was going a little stir crazy and on the verge losing my mind.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded in understanding. “It’s like that sometimes. Storms can feel like they last forever, but from my experience, I’ve learned that no matter what, they always pass.”

  That was a nice thought that I’d have to remember.

  “You know what’s nice to know?” she asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Even behind the rain clouds, the sun is always there.”

  “That is a nice thought,” I said. “It’s just sometimes hard to remember.”

  She patted my knee. “Trust me, I know. I’m almost ninety, and sometimes I forget, too. Then again, I guess that’s why there’s wine.” She shifted around on the cushion. “So, Jax seems to be drawn to you.”

  I puffed out a laugh. “Drawn to me? Not in the least. He actually made it clear that we should keep our distance from each other.”

  “Oh, sweetheart”—she waved me off—“Jax didn’t mean that. He’s just hardheaded like my Stanley was. Showing emotions is hard for Jax. He doesn’t come by them all too often, either. I’d been sharing a drink with that boy for many years now, and he still hardly opens up. He acts tough, like a brick wall, but he’s goo, just a big softy. And ever since you’ve come to town, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  My stomach filled with nerves. “How does he look at me?”

  “As if you’re something he wants to know more about.”

  I lowered my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Years ago, he was my best friend. We went to summer camp together for two years, and we wrote letters back and forth to one another for about three years. Then, one day, his letters stopped coming. He just…disappeared.”

  Joy’s eyes widened with surprise. “You knew him as a boy?”

  “Yes. He was…” I smiled, thinking back on Jax as a kid. “He was the kindest boy I’d ever known. The quietest boy but the kindest.”

  “Yes. Those facts haven’t changed over the years. And he knows? That you’re…you?”

  “He does, but he told me it would be best if we don’t dive deeper into our history.”

  “Oh horseshit,” Joy groaned, making me burst into laughter. “You can’t listen to a dang thing Jax says—you know why?”

  “Why is that?”

  “His heartbeats are set to self-destruct. He pushes good things away because he doesn’t think he deserves them, but I know that boy—probably better than he knows himself—and he needs a friend. I think he needs you more than he’ll ever admit.”

  I shook my head as I took a sip of wine. “I doubt he wants me to be that friend. Plus, like you said, he’s a brick wall. I have no way of getting through to him.”

  “Sure you do.” She placed her wine glass down and walked over to her fireplace, where a few candles were sitting. She picked up a lighter and began lighting each one. �
�You’ve lost someone, no?”

  I stood straighter. Even with all the gossiping people, I hadn’t told a soul about my daughter. “I…I’m sorry? What do you mean? How do you…?”

  She looked back to me and smiled. “I see it in your eyes, and I see their light around you.”

  Chills began spreading over my body as the words left her lips. “I… It…” My mouth grew dry as I tried to form the words, and she shook her head.

  “No, no, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too hard. I get it, but I want you to know you aren’t alone in your loss. If there is anything in this world that unites us all, it’s life and death, day and night. Jax went through a tragedy, too, and since you two have history, I figure perhaps you two can connect on some level again.”

  “I don’t think he wants me in his life, not very much at least.”

  “I bet he does. Jax’s father is currently reaching the end of his life, too, and I know that’s eating at him even though he won’t talk about it. Now, I’m not telling you this so you’ll force yourself onto him. I just think healing comes with time, patience, and friends, and I believe the two of you could both use a friend right now,” Joy explained.

  “How do I get him to want to be my friend? How do I get him to open up to me?”

  “Just be you. That’s good enough, I’m sure. If all else fails, push him. Sometimes in life we need to be pushed to be reminded that we can still move.”

  I thought back to just a few days earlier, when my panic attack hit me straight on, and I was unable to move forward. There Jax was, pushing me, helping guide me back to my home. If he could help me, I could at least try to do the same for him. What was the worst that could happen?

  Joy and I finished our wine and talked about life. She made me laugh when I would’ve otherwise been at home dealing with my own thoughts and sadness. I was so thankful for her kindness. She was one of the first people in town who felt genuinely interested in becoming my friend.

  When I asked why she hadn’t left her house for so long, she replied with the simplest answer: “I go where the love is. This place is filled with my loved ones’ heartbeats. When love goes somewhere else, I’ll be sure to follow. This is my haven until God tells me otherwise.”

  As I stood to leave, I stopped in her hallway, which was lined with photographs. I took in the smiling faces, which made me smile, too. “Is that your husband?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s Stanley, my stone-cold sweetheart.”

  “And the girl?”

  “My Bethany. She passed away early in life. We had eighteen great years with one another before the cancer took her away from us.”

  My chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.” I wanted to hug her, and wanted to cry, but instead, I just stood still.

  “I’m sorry, too, Kennedy. I truly am.”

  I hadn’t told her, but somehow Joy knew of my loss. I put on my coat and boots then stepped onto her front porch. We exchanged goodbyes, but before I could leave, I turned back to her, asking the question I’d been trying to answer for some time now. “How do you get over losing a daughter?”

  She walked over to me and crossed her arms. “You don’t get over it. You just get through it, and you count your blessings for any amount of time you had together. Me personally? I like to believe that once Bethany left my side, she became the wind. Therefore I feel her everywhere.” She held her hand out and closed her eyes as she took in a deep inhalation. “Even during the storms.”

  I smiled her way before pulling her into a tight hug. I thanked her for everything she’d given to me that night and then hurried back over to my front porch. This time, though, before rushing inside, I closed my eyes, and I felt the wind as it danced across my soul.

  13

  Jax

  “He was somewhat lucid today,” Amanda said as I stopped by the reception desk to sign in for my visit with my father. “He remembered my name.”

  “Did he give you a hard time?” I asked.

  “Would he be Cole Kilter if he didn’t?”

  Fair.

  “He say anything about me?” I grumbled.

  “Kind of called you an asshole.”

  Also fair.

  I wasn’t sure I was up for a visit that evening after a shitty day at work, but I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t read him a few chapters. Still, that didn’t change the fact that I was feeling burned out. I hadn’t been feeling well for a few days. Truthfully, all the rain had been a buzzkill, my job sucked, and I couldn’t keep Kennedy off my mind. It was as if me realizing who she was had unleashed a whirlpool of memories I hadn’t figured out how to deal with. I was drowning in memories of her.

  A part of me wanted to talk to her. To run into her in town and ask her how she’d been. That part of me was stupid. Almost everything I touched turned to shit, and the thought of reconnecting with Kennedy only to have things go wrong wasn’t a risk I wanted to take.

  We had our past. We had our story.

  I just wondered why the hell she’d never written me back.

  “How are you handling everything?” Amanda asked, snapping me out of my thoughts about a woman who wasn’t her. I felt guilty about it, too. In the past week, I’d thought about Kennedy a million times more than Amanda even though our breakup was pretty recent.

  “I’m okay,” I dryly replied. “Have a good night.”

  “Jax, wait.” She reached out and grabbed my forearm, and I didn’t want to deal with her tonight. Hell, I didn’t want to deal with anything. “You don’t have to put on a strong act about your father. I know he’s the devil, but it’s okay if you’re hurting. You can talk to me if you need to.”

  “Nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I swallowed hard and looked down. “Amanda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me go.” I meant both my arm and me.

  She dropped it. “Fine. Be stubborn. I don’t know why you live in this world where you think you have to struggle all on your own. Even if you don’t talk to me, I hope you talk to someone.”

  “That’s what therapy’s for,” I muttered.

  If only I’d been going.

  I pulled out the novel from my jacket, hoping Dad wasn’t too lucid when I got to him. How fucked up was that? I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in that my father’s memory was so far gone he wouldn’t remember me.

  I walked into his room where he was sitting in a wheelchair, facing the window. Nightfall had already come, so he couldn’t have been looking at anything too exciting. I cleared my throat and walked over to him, not sure what I was going to get. He peered up at me with his blue eyes that matched the sea, and he blinked. The right side of his body was paralyzed, and his mouth hung limp as he gazed my way. The blank stare he gave me made it clear he didn’t recognize me.

  I cleared my throat. “Hey, Mr. Kilter. I wanted to stop by to see if you’d like me to read you some chapters from this novel.”

  He slightly nodded, and I wheeled him around to face me before I sat down in the chair in front of him. He looked so broken down, and every now and again, I’d have to wipe his face. It was tough seeing him that way, knowing his outer appearance was nothing compared to what was going on inside his body.

  Nobody ever wants to watch their parent’s body shut down as years go by. It felt as if it was life’s curse—watching those who brought you into the world fall apart, a simple reminder that life is much shorter than any of us imagine.

  As I read him the chapters, he stared forward. He wasn’t looking at me, exactly, but almost as if he was looking through me. Halfway through my third chapter, I noticed his lips move.

  “Go-oo-od,” he mumbled, making me raise an eyebrow. Ironic how he mumbled after years of trying to beat the mumbles out of me. Life was a damn joke that way.

  “Good?” I asked.

  He nodded, barely moving.

  My cold heart tried to beat for the poor man.

  Then I
noticed a small puddle of liquid forming on the floor beneath him. I rose to my feet, realizing he’d wet his pants. I hurried to get someone to assist him. Two nurses came in to help get him cleaned up and into the bed while I held the book tight in my grip.

  After he was put to bed, he fell asleep quickly, and I headed out, walking straight past Amanda, who I could feel was staring my way.

  I slid into my truck and tossed the book into the passenger seat. After I turned the key in the ignition, I paused. My hands rested on the steering wheel, gripping the leather until my knuckles turned white. I stayed there for a few moments, taking in all the silence that came crashing into me.

  I pulled out my phone and called my brother. The conversation went as expected. “He’s not your responsibility, Jax. You should leave that town and start a new life. You aren’t to blame for Mom’s death.” Wash, rinse, repeat.

  As I drove home, I thought about my father, about the man he used to be, the man he’d become. They seemed like two completely different creatures. One terrified me; the other I pitied. No man should be placed in the position where he soils himself and can’t do a damn thing about it.

  My heart didn’t reserve pity for the man my father used to be. Fuck that man and the way he’d harmed me both physically and emotionally. Fuck the years in therapy that hardly led to healing. Fuck his hands that had punched me, bruised me, belittled me.

  Fuck who my father used to be.

  Also fuck who he was that evening.

  Fuck the man who made my cold heart try to break. My heart couldn’t break any more because it’d been shattered too much throughout the years.

  * * *

  When I arrived home, I went out to the woods to clear my head. There were too many thoughts going through my mind to go straight to bed. I was tired, but I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep.