by Ws Greer
After I realized Ava wasn't going to make it out of the hatch in the basement, my heart sank. As much as I wanted her out of my life, the last thing I ever wanted was for her to die. I can't believe it’s true, but it is. Ava’s body was found only ten feet from the hatch. The nine millimeter was close by. I can only assume she was either killed when the gas can exploded, or knocked unconscious by the blast. Either way, the can exploded, Ava went down, and never got back up.
I cried like a baby as I was put on a gurney and wheeled to an ambulance. All of it was just too much to bear. It still is, and I’ve done nothing but fight away tears since I left my charred house. Even as I sat in the hospital, I cried. I was just strong enough to wait until the doctors removed the bullet from my leg, but once they left and I was in the room alone for the night—minus the nurses visits—I couldn't stop the tears. The woman I spent so much time with is now dead, burned to death in the very room we’ve had so many great experiences in. Ava loved the Black House. She wanted nothing more than for us to be in it together, and she took her last breaths there. I couldn't write a sadder story if I tried, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.
As for Evelyn, she and I rode to the hospital separately. I don't know if her ambulance arrived before or after mine, but I never saw her in the hospital. After my bullet was removed and I had a restless night in recovery, I sent her a brief text message asking if she was okay. The text was sent at three in the morning and I didn't expect an immediate response, so I wasn't upset when I didn't get one that night. The surprise came the next morning when I woke up and found her reply waiting for me.
Evelyn: I’m fine. Goodbye Malcolm.
Short and sweet. Brutal and heartbreaking.
You don't have to read between the lines to know what Evelyn did with that text. I knew what it meant, and I decided not to try to save us. She was already on the verge of ending it before Ava showed up.
The part that hurts the most, however, is that when Evelyn thought she was going to die, she looked at me and told me she loved me. She wanted I love you, Malcolm, to be the last thing she ever said, and I knew in that moment that I loved her, too. That’s why I had to save her. I wasn't going to stand by and let the woman I love be shot to death right in front of me. Evelyn loves me, and I love her, but we won't be together because the craziness that was my life finally pushed her over the edge. She couldn't take it anymore, and I’m sure being shot in the shoulder didn't help. So, it’s done. Our relationship is over. Insult has been added to injury, and I can barely hold myself upright from all the stress and sadness weighing me down. My knees feel like they're ready to buckle from the pressure.
After limping for what feels like an eternity, I finally find my room. I enter my key card and am granted access to my new home by a tiny green light on the card reader. I step inside with nothing in my hands, because I don't have anything. With the exception of my cell phone, everything I own was burned in the fire. To go along with Ava and my relationship with Evelyn, all of my belongings went up in smoke, and I'm left with nothing but the clothes on my back and a broken heart.
When the door closes behind me, I walk through the foyer area, past the bathroom, and collapse onto the king-size bed. I crawl my way up to the white pillow, grab it, and bury my face into its softness. This is where I’ll spend the night for sure, and I honestly don't know if I’ll ever get up from this spot. I feel shattered. I’m destroyed. I’ll end up canceling my appointments at work for a while and taking some time to myself, because I’m in absolutely no position to give advice to anyone. I’m the one who needs help now, and the first step on my road to recovery is right here in this bed.
I close my eyes and cry like I haven't in a long time. I cry for Ava. I cry for Evelyn. I cry from the devastating pain I feel from losing everything I own in a fire. I cry for it all, and the sobs are heavy and non stop.
I don't know how long it’ll take to get back on my feet. I've never felt anything like this before, and it feels like I’ll never be able to overcome it, but I know there will come a day when I’m stronger. On that day, I’ll be motivated. I’ll be confident and ready to pick up the pieces and start anew. One day, I’m going to be strong enough to rebuild both my life and my house better than they were before. As much as it hurts now, I know that day will come.
But until then, I’ll be here. I’ll be on this bed with my face buried in this pillow. I’ll be on top of these sheets, shedding these tears, with this broken heart. I’ll be stuck here, too weak to move, too sorrowful and somber to think straight. For who knows how long, this is how I’ll be. This is where I’ll be. Right here. Broken.
~ ONE MONTH LATER ~
Chapter 40
~ MALCOLM ~
“It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but somehow I managed to pull it off. I was able to get away, and now I feel like I'm happier than I ever was before. It’s shocking, really, how much I was blind to—like it was right there in front of my face the same way you’re in front of me now, yet I refused to see it. It’s not that I couldn't see it, it was like I didn't want to, so I acted like I couldn't. Honestly, I think my refusal to accept the reality in front of me almost got me killed. That’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, it’s definitely something like crazy,” I reply, tossing my yellow notepad on the coffee table separating me and Kimberly Burr, formerly known as Kimberly Redden.
The recently divorced Ms. Burr sits in front of me with one leg crossed over the other, wearing a black skirt that is shrink wrapped to her legs, and a white tank top with the words Nasty Woman written in italicised black letters. The woman on the couch now sits in stark contrast to who I met for our first session two months ago. Her hair is down, her makeup looks professionally applied with dark lipstick emphasizing her pouty lips, and her cleavage is on full display. This is a woman who got dressed this morning without having to think about what her husband was going to say. She got dressed for herself, because her body is hers to own and control, and no man should ever tell a woman—or anybody else, for that matter—what they “should” be wearing. From where I'm sitting, Kim has found herself and realized she doesn't need Trent to feel happiness. She has smiled more during our session today than she had in all our previous sessions combined, and I love it.
“Well, I must say, Ms. Burr, I’m glad to see your happiness on display,” I tell her as I lean back and rest my hands in my lap. “I apologize, again, for having to cancel appointments the way I did, but I’m really glad it all worked out for you and you were able to go through with the divorce. It takes a lot to tear yourself out of a situation like that, and you came out of the other end with nothing but grace. Well done.”
“Ah, don't flatter me too much, Dr. Colson. You know I'm newly single, right?” The two of us share a chuckle before Kim goes on. “But seriously, I really appreciate all of your help. I know this is our last session and all, but I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you opening my eyes. You saved me.”
“Nah, I only told you. You saved yourself, Kim. Always remember that. It was you who summoned up the courage to accept reality and escape. It was you who quit your job at Lane Contracting and almost immediately found another one at Milford Animal Clinic. I have a former patient who actually used to work there, so that's a pretty cool connection. You're scheduled to start college in the fall, and you moved into an apartment. Honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better ending for you. You're doing great, Kim. I'm truly happy for you.”
“Thanks so much. I wasn't sure how it would all turn out once it was time to sign the papers, but to my surprise, Trent didn't put up a fight. He signed, and we both walked away without saying another word,” she answers, just as I notice the beginnings of tears rising in her eyes. She sniffs, shakes her head, and regains her calm. “I appreciate you always going out of your way to make me feel confident. But seriously, are you single?”
I chuckle again, but Kim only giggles slightly, telling me she’s serious. I get it—
Kim is a twenty-two-year-old, newly divorced woman who’s looking to have fun with her new life. Maybe the old me would jump at what I see as an obvious opportunity, but the old me died in a house fire.
“Ah, Kim, I’m not really dating right now. As I’m sure you've read, I've been through quite a bit lately. I’m still working my way through some stuff.”
“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her face suddenly doing that thing people’s faces do when they recognize me now. “I actually did read about your house and the girl who died there. I’m really sorry to hear that. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I answer, keeping it short. “It’s good to be back to work, because my work has always been what has kept me grounded. As long as I have this, I can manage.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you're doing okay, Dr. Colson. The world needs more men like you, so don't go dying on us, okay?”
I shiver at the word dying, as my mind flashes an image of Ava standing at the bottom of the stairs pointing a gun at me … and Evelyn.
“I’ll do my best,” I say in jest. Kim giggles again as she stands and extends her hand for me to shake.
“Thank you, Dr. Colson. For everything. I'm so glad I met you.”
I take Kim’s hand in mine and give it a gentle shake. “Thank you, Kim. You're definitely one of my best success stories. You have control of your life now, so go build yourself an empire and force men to either get on your level, or take a seat. You got this.”
“Thank you, Dr. Colson.” Kim smiles big and wide one last time as she turns on her heel and we walk to the door together. Once she's gone, I close my office door behind her and make my way back to my desk, feeling accomplished for finishing the day without my emotions taking over. I’m doing much better now, that’s for sure.
As I sit down at my desk and transcribe notes from Kim’s final session, my mind wanders while my fingers click keys on the keyboard. It has been a difficult month since Ava died and my house burned down. The house has been demolished since then, and Ava has been laid to rest in a closed casket funeral that wasn't attended by as many people as there should've been. Although she was hoping to end my life that night, I went to the funeral and paid my respects. It was therapeutic for me, really, and I think leaving the church that day brought me some peace about saying goodbye to her forever.
A new house is being built in the lot mine once occupied, but I won't be living there. Too many bad memories. I need something new and fresh, far away from Magnolia. This is a new beginning for me, so while I'm still living in the Marriott hotel at the moment, I have a realtor and we’re doing some serious house hunting. The next house will be my forever home, so it has to be perfect.
I did, however, buy new clothes over the course of the last month. With each new thing I bought, I felt a little more like myself, and after coming back to work this week for the first time in over thirty days, I finally feel like I’m becoming whole again. My confidence is slowly creeping back up with each passing day, and I feel comfortable giving patients advice again. Here soon, I’ll be completely back on my feet and ready to take on the world.
“Dr. Colson?” Keisha’s voice blares through the intercom.
“Hi, Kiesha. I don't have anything left for us today. You're good to go. I’ll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend,” I answer, because I already know what she's about to say.
“Actually, Dr. Colson, there's a woman out here saying she needs an emergency session with you, right now,” Keisha fires back, and I can hear the urgency in her voice.
I frown and tilt my head to the side. “What? Which patient is it?” I answer.
“It’s not a current patient, sir. Are you available? She seems to really need your assistance. Should I send her in before I leave?”
If I frown any harder, my face will shatter.
“Umm, yeah I guess so,” I say, before pressing the button again. “Keisha, what’s the woman’s name?”
Before Keisha can answer, the door to my office opens. I look up and find a woman who takes my breath away. She’s dressed in tight black pants, a loose white button-up, and white heels. Her hair is red, her eyes are blue, and her smile brings more light to the room than all of the bulbs combined. Seeing her makes my heart race and sends my emotions into a frenzy.
“I’m so sorry to barge in, but I really needed to see you,” Evelyn says, as she walks over to my couch and stands next to it. “My relationship ended recently, and my life hasn't been the same since. I’m in need of counseling, and I hear you're the very best. Do you mind if I sit down?”
Chapter 41
~ MALCOLM ~
My eyes bulge, my breathing hitches in my throat, and my head tilts to the side like a curious puppy.
“Evelyn?” I ask, and she frowns as if I've done something wrong.
“That’s right. How do you already know my name?”
“Umm,” I start, just as it dons on me what Evelyn is doing. It’s a little strange, considering the timing, but she's role playing. She's a new patient, and I'm supposed to play along and act as if this is all brand new. It’s actually a well-known tactic when the topic of discussion is difficult to discuss. It makes it easier to step outside of yourself and play a role while being honest.
Everything I feel inside screams for me to blurt out the things I've wanted to say to her since she texted me in the hospital. I want to tell her I love her, and that I've missed her more than I ever thought I could miss another person. I want her to know how sorry I am that she ended up getting hurt because of Ava. Ugh. Ava. The thought of her name alone makes me struggle to keep it all at bay. It has only been thirty days, but the thing that helped me through that time was the fact that I attended Ava’s funeral, and I didn't see or hear from Evelyn. Now that she's here, all of the wounds feel fresh.
“Dr. Colson, are you okay? Is it okay if I sit down?” Evelyn repeats, and the look on her face is one of pleading. She has no idea how much I've missed her or how badly her breaking it off with me broke my heart. She probably thinks I don't want her here, so she's pleading with me through her ocean blue eyes, begging me to let her stay.
“Yes,” I say, before pausing to clear my throat. “Yes, please sit down.”
She takes a seat on the couch and grabs the pillow next to her as if she already knows she is going to need it for comfort. She places it in her lap and clutches it tight, wrapping both of her arms around the soft fabric as I sit down across from her and swallow hard.
“Umm, so … uhh, what brings you in? My secretary tells me you were in an emergency,” I start. It feels a little dumb, but I know that the only way I'm going to get through this is to act as if this is a real session. I've always depended on my work to keep my head above water, and I've never felt like I was drowning more than I do right now. My work has to be my life vest, so today I will strap it on tight and try to swim.
“Yes, it’s an emergency,” Evelyn begins. “Again, I’m very sorry to have barged in on you, but I felt like I would explode if I didn't get this out. My heart has been too heavy, and I feel like I can barely walk from trying to carry it around. I guess what I'm saying is that I need to get this off my chest if I stand any chance of being able to move forward with my life. Does that make sense?”
I clear my throat and ignore my racing heart. “Yes. I think that’s a perfect metaphor for what you're feeling. I couldn't have said it better myself. Please, go on.”
“Great. Well, I was in a relationship with this guy. He was fantastic, but he came with a ton of baggage that did nothing but drag us down. The funny thing is that even with all of that baggage, being with him was like drinking ice water after being dehydrated in the desert. He was fun, funny, refreshing, adventurous, and unbelievably sexy. If not for the baggage he carried, he would've been perfect, which is a scary thing.”
I clear my throat, because holy shit! She’s talking about me. “Why would perfect be a scary thing?”
“Because it’s not supposed to exist. However, this i
s where I think I may have gone wrong,” Evelyn continues, clutching the pillow tighter. “I was afraid of how good he made me feel, both internally and externally, and I convinced myself he was too good to be true. Then, after realizing he came with some pretty dangerous baggage, I got upset and blamed him for not being perfect. I blamed him for his baggage, and I wasn't patient enough to give him time and space to work it out, and after all was said and done, I left him at a time when he needed me most. He literally lost everything all in one night, and that was the moment I chose to leave him. Like a true asshole, after everything he loved and owned had been turned to ash, I made sure he lost me too. I made sure he had absolutely nothing left, and I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Tears begin to stream down Evelyn’s gorgeous face, and somehow it only makes her more beautiful. I sit back in my chair and watch as she hunches forward, wraps her arms tightly around the pillow, and cries into it. She cries like she's attending my wake—like she knows I'm gone and will never come back to her, and I wonder how many times she has done this over the past month. Here I was, thinking I was the only one crying all of this time, and she was doing it, too. It only makes me want her more.
“Evelyn,” I say, trying to grab her attention, but she keeps her head down and continues to weep. “I want you to know I understand your emotions. Something tells me your ex-boyfriend has cried a lot since you left him, too. I bet he struggled mightily through it all, and I’d bet he's still frantically trying to tread water right now. Don't make the mistake of convincing yourself that you're alone in how you feel. If you're as sorry as you say you are, you owe it to yourself and to your ex to reach out and apologize. If he's half the man you claim he is, he’d accept your apology. He’d accept it without hesitation because he loves you.” Evelyn’s head slowly lifts off of the pillow. “He loves you more than he could've ever told you before, and he regrets not telling you much sooner. He was an idiot, and maybe if he would've told you how he felt back then, it would've made it easier for you to be patient with him while he tried to deal with his baggage. Nonetheless, he does love you, Evelyn. Even now. He loves you like you never left.”
