by Caisey Quinn
Drew nodded. “Unfortunately. But he’s in prison for like seven to ten for assault and battery so he doesn’t bother them.”
I should’ve known, even from New York, Drew would be up to date on the hometown gossip.
“Devon actually helps raise him.”
Before I could open my mouth, Drew put his hands up to silence me.
“He got help, Emersyn. After what happened. He’s still in therapy and he’s a counselor now that helps teenagers like himself before they lose control like he did. Believe it or not, he turned out to be a decent man.”
I wanted to be the kind of person to forgive and forget, but I would never forget the beating he’d given my best friend. Maybe I could forgive though. Partially. Some day.
“I’m glad to hear that.” There was no denying that my voice was strained.
James leaned down and spoke in my ear. “I’m not starting his fan club anytime soon either,” he muttered.
I smiled and our eyes met. The kindness I saw there mingled with a fierce protector vibe told me we’d get along just fine.
Kat hugged both of them then stepped over to tell me the community center was about to close us down for the evening.
The guests had dwindled to less than a dozen people. Only me, Drew, James, an attorney from mom’s law practice, and a few of Kat’s friends remained.
Kat thanked everyone for coming and they said their final goodbyes. Drew lingered beside me until everyone was gone.
We helped Kat retrieve all the pictures in frames from the display tables while James collected the flowers to be taken to where my mother’s ashes were being spread tomorrow morning.
Kat gave me one final hearty hug and smiled through watery eyes.
“Her heart may have given out, Emersyn, but it was so full of love at the end. She loved you and your brother more than I could ever tell you.”
Her words struck a chord in my chest. Kat and I had known two very different versions of my mother.
But I believed what she said.
Love was complicated. Messy, chaotic, and sometimes excruciatingly painful. My mother struggled with experiencing it and expressing it her entire life. Until the end with Kat when she began messaging or calling every other day to tell me how much she loved me and how proud she was of what an incredible woman I’d become.
“I know,” I choked out. “I know she loved us. Ethan knows too.” Ethan had left earlier with my father and Deb. “I am grateful that you found your way back to one another. I only wish you’d had more time.”
Kat nodded. “We made the most of it. That’s what mattered. They don’t call it once in a lifetime love for nothing.”
She gave me a coral colored lipstick kiss on the cheek, her gold bangles jingling on her wrists as she hugged me, then asked James to help her carry the flowers to her car.
Maybe it was her words or maybe it was being back in North Carolina, but Aiden’s face kept flashing in the back of my mind.
During my first year in California, we sent the occasional teasing text or short E-mail to stay in touch but the time between them grew longer until I couldn’t remember whose turn it was to respond.
At least two years had passed since I’d had any contact with him. But he snuck into my mind more often than I cared to admit.
It was naive of me to expect him to be here, but I had allowed my heart to hope.
Drew wiped my face. Either for the lipstick smudges or the tears, I wasn’t sure.
“He’s in Canada, darling,” he said gently. “Otherwise I’m certain he’d have come to pay his respects and offer his condolences.”
My eyes flashed to his with questions in them. He rolled his.
“You’ve been looking for him all night. He’s not much for social media but he plays for Detroit now and they’re in Canada. I thought about messaging him through his team’s fan page but I figured you’d rather I didn’t interfere. Plus some intern is probably the only one who sees those messages anyways.”
“It’s ridiculous. We haven’t talked in years. I don’t know why I expected him to show.”
Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I turned and gathered my purse and the photo album of my mother’s Kat said she’d wanted me to have. Dad had grabbed Ethan’s earlier when they left.
“Hey,” Drew said, coming to stand beside me. “He was your first love and you’re still holding on to hope that maybe one day you’ll find each other again. It’s romantic. Not ridiculous in the least.”
Hope. Like Aiden had said. I’d never had great luck with it.
“It’s childish and I need to grow up and let it go.”
He shook his head. “You need to live your life, yes. As in date, fall in love many more times, and make mistakes. But he holds a piece of your heart and I’m fairly certain you still carry a piece of his. Nothing wrong with that.”
I had dated. Or at least, I’d gone a few dates. But so far all I’d met were guys in my age range who didn’t ever want the party to end. Or other artists who disappeared into their work the same way I did, making it impossible to maintain a relationship when our creative spurts hit a different times.
I’d still never experienced anything like what I’d felt with Aiden. Part of me feared it was too much for anyone else to live up to.
When James returned, they asked me to join them for dinner and drinks but I declined. I needed to decompress.
Once I was alone in my car, the fancy black BMW SUV Deb and my Dad had given me for my college graduation to haul my materials in, I opened the album my mother had left for me.
Flipping through it I saw pictures of her pregnant with me, pictures of me and her and Dad when I was a baby and then a toddler. Next came my awkward elementary and middle school pictures followed by a few high school dance pictures and silly candids of me and Ethan and some with Drew in them.
The last photo on the final page was of me, her, Kat, Ethan, my dad, and Deb at my art school graduation.
Below it she wrote, Love: In all its forms.
In the interior of the back cover was an inscription. Reading it caused my vision to blur with tears.
Dearest Emersyn,
I should have told you every single day how beautiful and brave and brilliant you are. I should have thanked you every day for being the most amazing daughter a mother could have. For being a mother to Ethan when I couldn’t. For being strong enough to love and care for me me when I was unlovable.
I’m sorry for so many things, but I hope that despite my mistakes and the many ways I failed you, I hope you find love. I hope you find all kinds of it. I hope you greet every day with wide open outstretched arms. I hope when life is unkind and knocks you down, you reach deep down for the strength I’ve seen in you since you were a little girl and get back up. I pray you learn to breathe and let go of hurt and disappointment and focus on the beauty in life. Beauty you’ve always seen and shown in your art.
Don’t live your life in mourning—for me or anyone else or of a life you thought you’d have—live a life in eager anticipation of the unknown and the unexpected. There is so much beauty and joy in this life if you keep your heart open to it. I think you’ve always seen that better than I have.
I hope you spend your life creating the art you love, relishing in the passion you possess and being celebrated for your many talents.
Most of all, I hope you live the life you dream of, with whoever makes you happy no matter what anyone else thinks. I hope you find someone that sees you as I do, worthy of immense, immeasurable amounts of love. I hope you love one another wildly with the reckless abandon of your whole hearts.
I love you Emersyn Elizabeth. I have loved you since I felt the first fluttering kicks in my tummy and even when I felt those sharp painful ones in my ribs. I have loved you every day of your life and I wish I had not spent so much time focused on what I didn’t have and more time focusing on what I did. But I promised Kat I wouldn’t dwell on regrets and I hope you don’t either.
; Love is a rare and precious gift to be celebrated. Celebrate, Emersyn. Celebrate waking up, celebrate finding love, celebrate your amazing talent and your beautiful heart.
All my love forever,
Mom
When I was finished reading her words, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I cried until I choked and sobbed and seized.
My nose ran and my throat clogged and my face hurt like hell. Just when I thought I was done, I cried some more.
I cried because we didn’t get to have this conversation in person. Because I held onto the hurt she’d caused right up until this moment. Because I didn’t get to say the things I wanted to before she was gone.
I didn’t know how much time passed, but my eyes finally dried and though I sniffled and shuttered a little, I stopped breaking down enough to drive toward the hotel I was staying in.
On the way there, I passed through Riverside and stared at the waterfront where a carnival once was. I drove through the college campus where we’d had class together, though I’d only known him then as the handsome guy who sat behind me in art history. High Octane had a new name and there were new storefronts but it was still familiar.
A tattoo shop called Wild Ink caught my eye.
At twenty-two, I’ve never had a tattoo in my life but suddenly I wanted several. They began appearing behind my eyes in collage of ink-covered skin.
Maybe I’d never see him again, but Aiden would always have the tattoos of my artwork. I found comfort in that and peace in my mom’s words.
I’d loved him wildly and recklessly. With my whole heart.
But now it was time to let go.
When I finally made it to my hotel room hours later, I lifted up my shirt and looked at the words inked in beautiful script just above my ribs on either side.
Love on the left and Let goon the right.
I stared at my reflection for a long while before looking at the words once more.
Two sides of the same coin.
Reminders.
I could love. With my whole heart. I could let go of the years my mother’s anger inflicted pain upon us. I could let go of the fear that I may never love anyone the way I loved Aiden Singleton. Part of me would love him forever. And that was okay. But I wouldn’t live a life dwelling on what I’d lost.
It was time to stop looking for him, time to stop expecting to see him around every corner. Time to stop daydreaming about melodramatic scenes where he appeared and professed his undying love for me.
I opened the messaging app on my phone and pulled up his number. I didn’t know if he still had the same one but it was all I had besides his old Yahoo E-mail address, which I doubted he still used.
In a rush of adrenaline, I tapped his name and typed out a text.
My mother died. I never said goodbye in California but it’s time I let you go. Goodbye, Aiden.
My heart thudded hard in my chest and I pressed send on impulse, almost by accident. Didn’t matter. Damage was done.
I stared at the screen, waiting.
But minutes ticked by and babies were born and people died and time marched on but there was nothing.
No response, no bubbles, no indication if the message was even received.
That was okay. I was okay.
I would be okay. Eventually.
I didn’t have my materials and I should’ve probably tried to sleep, but I knew I couldn’t. So I begin sketching the sculpture for the loss of my mother and the rebirth of myself on a hotel notepad in the middle of the night.
25
Emersyn
A Year and a Half After That
It was a random Tuesday afternoon when it came through.
Sender: Aiden Singleton Subject:
I stared at the E-mail for an entire day before opening it. Peeking at it periodically, like one might a forbidden chocolate cupcake in the fridge.
A thrill went through me at the sight of his name, but part of me hoped every time I looked that it would have magically disappeared.
It hadn’t.
I paced around the apartment I shared with my boyfriend Max, a musician I’d met at an opening for a local bar my friends had made me go to a year ago.
He was a supremely talented piano player and songwriter, though he was a little scatterbrained at times. For instance, he’d recently found his cell phone in the freezer where he’d left it one night after pulling out some ice cream.
It had to be replaced.
Somewhere between his music, my art, and his amusing absentmindedness, we’d fallen in love. Or something close to it anyway. Definitely mutual adoration.
Living with Max was like living with my best friend. He understood when I needed to camp out at my studio space and work for days on end and I understood when he didn’t speak for a week because he was working out musical arrangements in his head.
I’d told him about Aiden, even about our back stairwell adventures, and he thought it was super hot. I suspected he thought I was much sexier than I actually had been in high school. But I enjoyed him picturing me as some vixen instead of the art geek I really was, so I let his imagination run wild.
He told me about Beth, the girl he’d loved half his life who’d refused to move from Idaho to Chicago when he told her he wanted to be a jazz musician.
Both of us had been burned by our first loves, but we’d recovered and rebounded nicely. As artists, our individual lives were chaotic, but we had a standing date Tuesday nights at our favorite cafe around the corner.
I knew I couldn’t go without reading Aiden’s message first. It wouldn’t be right to sit through dinner with Max wondering about the ticking time bomb in my inbox. And I fully intended to tell him about it. He wasn’t the jealous type and had always been honest about any contact he’d had with Beth. So half an hour before leaving to meet him, I sat on our comfy white sectional couch, held my breath, and opened my E-mail.
Emersyn,
I am so sorry about your mother. I didn’t find out she’d passed until I’d returned from Canada. I would’ve come to the funeral if I had been stateside. Unfortunately, I blew out my left knee during a game there and ending up having surgery and several months of rehab before I could get home. My phone was damaged during the flight there and it took a while to get a new one that could upload all of the messages I’d missed. When I finally saw yours, I was back home learning that my career was pretty much over.
It’s no excuse and I should’ve messaged you sooner, but it seemed like maybe you needed space and I struggled to find my way for a while. I did get to play half of another season but that was all my knee could manage. I was recently hired as an assistant coach with my old team in North Carolina so I’m looking forward to that.
Anyway, I wanted you know I meant what I said in California. I’m glad you’re living your life. You deserve a beautiful one. If you needed to let me go to be happy, then I understand. I will always love you. I don’t think I could stop if I tried. If you ever need me, all you have to do is say the word and I’m there. I still have the same phone number and I included it below should you ever need it.
It was signed only with his name and his number. The same one I still had. Part of me wondered if I was the reason he hadn’t changed it. But I pushed that craziness out of my head. Men didn’t like change, plain and simple. It probably had nothing to do with me.
It was done. I exhaled. I’d read his words and survived.
Lightening hadn’t struck and the Earth hadn’t opened up and swallowed me whole.
I was fine.
It was fine.
He was fine.
Everything was fine.
That’s what I’d tell Max. Aiden had messaged. It had surprised me but I was fine.
Except…the only word I could use correctly was fine and my heart was doing that stupid thing. That thing it only did when I heard Aiden’s name or thought Aiden’s name or pictured Aiden’s freakishly handsome face. Beating wildly out of rhythm making it difficult
to control my breathing.
My heart didn’t do this for Max.
I cared a great deal for Max. Max made me laugh. He was sweet and quirky and fun. Like hanging out with Drew on lazy Sunday afternoons, but we got to sleep together.
Which was nice.
So very nice.
Max was attentive and gentle and sweet in bed.
Not one for dirty talk, he mostly told me over and over how beautiful I was. Which made me feel beautiful. He had skilled hands and we’d found an easy rhythm that worked for both of us.
But it had never been like the roller coaster ride Aiden took me on with his dirty mouth and his filthy mind.
God, what was I doing?
I couldn’t compare Max to Aiden like this. It wasn’t fair. I was practically a kid with zero experience back then. Of course it had seemed more intense.
That wasn’t a reflection of anything lacking with Max.
Was it?
I stood abruptly, needing to get away from myself, from my thoughts. I needed to get to Max so I could get my head back in a safe space.
I practically ran to the cafe and when I arrived, he was there. Sitting in the booth we always sat in. Drinking his hot tea across from the coffee he’d ordered me.
Like every Tuesday evening.
This was good.
He was good.
Our life together was good.
I could breathe normally again.
It wasn’t wild out of control love. It was comfortable, respectful, and easy-going. Something my mother had written in her final letter to me tried to wedge its way into my mind as I walked to our table, but I shoved it out with a smile.
“Hi, handsome,” I greeted him.
Max stood, his tall, lean, dark-skinned frame towering over me. “Hello, gorgeous.”
He kissed me chastely and I ignored my feelings of infidelity. It was an E-mail for goodness sakes. Aiden didn’t even have my current phone number.
After we’d exchanged the usual pleasantries about our days, I took a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something?”
I was going to ask him about Beth. About what he would do if she showed up in Chicago and wanted him back. About how his feelings for me compared to his feelings for her.
