by Anne Jolin
Get lost in the rhythm and enjoy a natural high.
My face was red and my hair was wet by the time we moved back to the bar.
“I’ll have a slippery nipple.” Kevin winked at the very good-looking, very straight bartender and I shook my head.
“Get me one too!” Leighton shoved his arm.
I leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m really hot. I’m just going to go down to the beach for a few minutes.” I had to practically yell it over the noise.
She frowned. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come with you?”
“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Just hot from dancing. Keep an eye on Casanova.”
I motioned to Kevin with a chin tilt and she nodded. “Okay, we’ll be here or back at the little podium thingy.”
“Okay.”
Turning my back to them, I moved through the crowd. It was easy. Everyone was moving towards the dance floor, but I was moving away from it. Finally, the heat of the crowd lifted as I took the stairs down to the beach.
The breeze picked up and felt refreshing on the warmth of my skin.
I loved the beach.
Wandering not too far from the resort, I walked closer to the ocean and sat down in the sand.
It was cool from the night air and I fisted my fingers into it.
Life had a funny way of testing you.
My test was grief.
Grief was like a freight train. It runs you down, and after, you do the best you can to pick up the pieces of what’s left and put yourself back together again.
In nearly a decade, I hadn’t found all my pieces.
Maybe that meant I failed my test, or maybe it didn’t.
The more aware I became of who I was, the more I was sure that life’s tests didn’t have an expiration date. Some people passed or failed theirs right away, while others took years just to know they were being tested.
That was me.
I’d had more in common with the beach than I’d ever really known. Just like it, I’d kept my head buried and let the souls of thousands of others walk through me.
I didn’t want to be like the sand anymore. I wanted to be like the ocean.
I wanted to be my own.
I wanted people to love me, but fear me, simply because who I was demanded that respect from them.
The ebb and flow of the tide would be my sanctuary, where my grief and acceptance would come to pass.
Yes, I was a lot like the beach.
My past was in the sand and my future was in the waves themselves.
“Char! Is that you?”
I turned my head to see Leighton and Kevin stumbling towards me in the dark.
“It’s me!” I called back.
They ran, plopping down, one on each side of me.
“I’m exhausted.” Kevin rested his head on my shoulder.
Leighton sighed and placed her head on my other shoulder. “I’m getting too old to party.”
I laughed.
“You good, Char?” Kevin asked.
Leighton wrapped her arms around one of mine.
“I’m getting there.”
We sat there for hours, watching the tide roll in before we dragged ourselves to our villa, to bed.
“Happy New Year, Charlie bear,” Henry whispered in my dreams.
I was happy.
I was still wounded, but I was happy.
And the first four days of 2017 were spent in the sunshine eating everything that wasn’t good for us.
All killer, no filler, as Henry used to say.
Valentine’s Day, the Hallmark holiday, the holiday that women everywhere seemed to either love or hate, no in-between.
I was spending mine with Beau Callaway, so that ought to tell you what side I fell on for this particular year.
After I returned home from Mexico, life resumed its usual hectic lullaby. January was consumed with a last minute event for shotgun nuptials, and thus, I hadn’t seen much of any of The Charleston Three, as Kevin had so dubbed them.
They no doubt lived lives that didn’t entirely revolve around me, or I them, and that was okay.
Doctor Colby said it was a healthy integration of lives.
I was so inclined to believe her.
So, when Beau called last week and asked if he could take me out for Valentine’s Day, I’d eagerly accepted his invitation to spend some time together.
He was picking me up at my office.
“You look like a heartbreaker, Char,” Kevin drawled from his position in my desk chair.
He helped me decide between three dresses, eventually settling on a slightly above the knee blood red dress that was low cut in the front, with a crisscross lace up to keep the ladies in their assigned seating.
I turned from side to side in the mirror. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”
The black platformed pumps made my round butt sit perky in a way that I loved, but I was worried the dress was too bold for Beau.
“It’s not too much.”
Kevin and I both swung our heads to the doorway to see Beau leaning against the frame, in a black suit with a grey dress shirt and holding two-dozen white roses.
“Hey.” I smiled.
He walked towards me, pressing a hand to the small of my back, and kissed me.
It didn’t matter Kevin was watching.
It didn’t matter we were in my office.
He just kissed me, sweet and slow, like only Beau could do.
Our lips parted, and he whispered back to me, “Hey yourself.”
I blushed and he stepped back, holding the bouquet out to me. “Is white too boring?”
Bending at the waist and enjoying his game, I smelled them. “White is perfect.”
“Well, hell,” I heard Kevin whine.
Looking around Beau’s shoulder, I scowled at him. “Beau, you remember Kevin.”
He returned his hand to the small of my back and smiled. “Of course. It’s nice to see you, Kevin.”
“You know, I…” Kevin started, and I glared at him. “I was just going.”
“Kevin, wait,” I called, and he stopped. “Could you put these in some water for me?”
“Of course.” He laughed. “You kids have fun now.”
Then he took the flowers from my hands and pranced (yes, pranced) from my office.
“I missed you.” I leaned into his side and breathed him in.
He smelled like fancy fabric softener and cologne I loved.
Beau kissed the top of my head. “I think it’s quite possible I missed you more.”
“How’s your dad doing?” I asked.
I’d learned from our multiple phone calls and text messages that Noah Callaway had survived surgery and was recovering in the comfort of their family home on the North Shore now.
“He’s on the mend.” Beau’s voice grew warm when he spoke.
He loved his father.
I moved from his side and lifted my Calvin Klein jacket from the back of my chair.
“Let me.” Beau took it from me and held it open while I slid my arms in.
“Thank you.” I picked my clutch up off the desk.
“Shall we?” He extended his elbow to me.
I smiled, slipping my arm in. “Please.”
He led me down the hall, but the rest of the staff had already gone home for the evening, and it was just Kevin locking up.
We walked to the elevator and I reached for the down button, but he stopped me.
“We’re going up.” He winked, hitting the arrow.
My brows pulled together and I studied him. “You said we were going to dinner.”
“We are,” he smirked.
I shook my head. “More surprises?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” He dipped down and kissed my cheek.
Once inside the lift, he pressed the button for the roof and we began to ascend.
“Where are…” I started to ask, but he shook his head.
“Patience,
Charleston.”
The doors open and he led me by the hand up the flight of stairs that led to the roof. When he pulled it open, my jaw dropped.
There, on the roof of my office building, was a helicopter.
It was a smaller one, but it was a helicopter no less.
“Beau!” I gaped.
He grinned.
The man loved to spoil me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He winked and walked me to the doors, where a pilot and Jason stood. “After you.”
Beau helped me into the seat and positioned the earmuffs over my head. “Cute.” He kissed me quickly before getting in the other side.
The pilot got in and, shortly after, the helicopter came to life. I put my hand in Beau’s. “I’ve never been in a helicopter before.” I looked at him, but spoke into the little microphone attached to the earmuffs.
He looked at the pilot. “Shall we take this pretty lady to dinner, Hal?”
The pilot looked over his shoulder and spoke into his mic. “Let’s do it.”
And then we were in the air.
I squealed and laughed like a teenaged girl.
It was unreal.
I watched out the window as we flew over the city lights and out over the water. “That’s Stanley Park!” I pointed excitedly out the window.
Beau smiled and let me enjoy my moment.
We flew over the bridge, and then Beau leaned across my lap and pointed down. “See that light there? Just across from that boat in the water?” I nodded. “That’s my house.”
I delighted. “I love your house.”
“You’ll have to come see it for real sometime.”
I pressed my lips to his.
And we kissed.
We kissed with our eyes closed so tight that I barely noticed when the helicopter landed on the top of Cypress Mountain.
The runs on the ski hill were still lit up for the evening riders.
“We’re here,” he said breathlessly against my lips.
Beau was the closest I’d ever been to a Prince Charming.
He was valiant, generous, and so very over-the-top.
The blades slowed down and Beau insisted on being the one to help me from my seat, even though Jason could have easily gotten there much quicker.
There was a pathway lit up with hanging Christmas lights that led to a table in the center of a large deck surrounded by four propane heaters.
“You could give date planners at The Bachelor a run for their money,” I joked—or, well, half joked. It was mostly the truth.
Beau laughed.
Instead of pulling a chair out for me, he pressed the button on a small speaker on the table, and music drifted out across the snow.
“Dance with me?”
I took his hand. “Of course.”
He pulled me tight as the soft melodies played.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my cheek on his chest.
“You’re wonderful,” I told him.
He didn’t answer for quite some time. Just moved me slowly in the cold air until finally he found what it was he so wished to say.
“I would love you with absolution, Charleston,” Beau whispered to me as we danced. “But something tells me you won’t let me do that just yet, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.”
I lifted my cheek from his chest and looked into his perfect blue eyes.
He wasn’t asking me to give him something I couldn’t.
He was just being open.
He was just being Beau.
I pressed my lips against his.
He kissed me back, before whispering, “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”
Oh, the rogue nature of inarticulate hearts.
I hoped Beau wasn’t suffering at the hands of mine.
Tuesday, April 16th, 2017
April wasn’t spring for me.
April wasn’t the beginning of longer days for me.
April was the month Henry died.
They say April showers bring May flowers. In my world, April showers brought with them a world of hurt.
My cellphone rang from somewhere in the apartment.
I pulled the blanket over my head, ignoring it.
This week would mark the ten-year anniversary of Henry’s death.
“Hey, Bumfuck Police, I’m being chased by a guy who likes to pull tongues out of severed heads with his teeth. Is there a special extension for that?”
I was watching one of my all-time favourite horror movies, the 2001 classic Jeepers Creepers. Listening through the quilt as Darry yelled at Trish.
My cellphone rang again.
I didn’t answer.
Every year, on the week leading up to April 22nd, I stayed home.
I didn’t go to work.
I didn’t go out.
I didn’t see friends.
I just wallowed in misery until it was time to get in my car, drive to my parents’ house on the day of, where we would miss Henry together.
I heard Trish scream and pulled down the blanket.
I loved this movie.
Henry had loved this movie too.
He always sang that stupid song.
“Jeepers creepers… where’d ya get them peepers…”
I smiled to the room.
My eyes felt heavy from crying.
I’d cried so much.
Drifting asleep on the sofa, I heard my cellphone ring again.
“Jeepers creepers… where’d ya get them…”
Jolting awake, I gasped.
The credits were rolling on my television screen and my heart ran a thousand miles per minute.
Maybe I should watch something else.
I clicked through the Apple TV and pulled up where I’d left off on season one of Outlander.
It was an unusual choice for me, being it was a far cry from my typical indulgence into the world of gore and suspense, but it had become somewhat of a guilty pleasure of mine in these last months nonetheless.
I was drawn to the way Claire felt tethered to more than one man. I was allured by the way each held such a vastly different future. I was exceptionally fond of the grace in which she handled her confusion, and the boldness in which she conducted herself. In short, I’d come to adore her and envy her all the same. She had boundaries I lacked.
There wasn’t two hundred years in the Scottish highlands preventing me from making a decision, just the eighteen inches from my head to my heart.
I pulled the hood of my grey sweater over my unwashed hair and lay back down.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I hadn’t ordered any delivery today, so there was no reason to answer.
I ignored it.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Go away!” I yelled down the hallway at whoever had the audacity to intrude on my misfortune, this week of all weeks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Whoever it was pounded on my door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
“I said go away!” My temper had started to flare as my shout morphed into a scream of sorts.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Heads are going to roll,” I muttered to myself, as I threw back the blanket and climbed off the couch.
My black sweatpants that were too big pooled around my bare feet as I stalked towards the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“For the love of all that is holy!” I hollered threw the copper.
Throwing the deadbolt back, I yanked my front door open, prepared to verbally eviscerate whoever was on the other side.
“Jesus Christ,” I growled. “Of course it’s you. Why wouldn’t it be you?” I said sarcastically.
He looked over my head into the apartment, searching, but when he came up empty-handed, he turned his sights back to me. “Shouldn’t give your acce
ss code to strangers then, babe.”
I banged my head against the door dramatically. “Go away, Maverick.”
I started to shut the door, but he slammed his boot into the doorway.
“You look like shit.” He shook his head and pushed his way past me into the apartment.
Turning to look at him crowding my entryway, I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
That was Maverick.
I hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and yet, he stood, arms crossed over his chest in my hallway like he belonged there.
“I’m sick,” I lied, motioning with my arm for him to leave.
He glared.
In two strides, he closed the distance between us, and my pulse raced.
He smiled.
Then he reached over my head and slammed the door shut behind me.
“Not leavin’,” he stated, like it was the end all, be all of statements.
Then he left me growling in my entryway, looking like a slob, as he walked into my living room.
I stared after him.
“It looks like a bomb dropped in here.”
Rolling my eyes, I stomped down the hall to see him staring at my coffee table like it was on fire.
“You don’t like it?” I huffed. “You know where the door is. I didn’t invite you in.”
He shook his head.
“That’s seriously gross, babe.”
I followed his eyesight.
My coffee table was piled high with takeout containers, tissues from my sobbing, probably an entire case of empty Diet Coke cans, and at least one 7-Eleven’s worth of candy wrappers.
It wasn’t that bad.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, fed up and ready for him to go so I could get back to succumbing to my misery.
He walked into the kitchen and bent his hulking frame over as he started to rummage through cupboards.
“I called your office,” he said from under my sink. “That guy said you’d taken the week off.”
I could here the sounds of things being moved around.
“So?” I spat half-heartedly. I was distracted by his odd behaviour. “What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?”
“I’m looking for garbage bags.”
My already barely there patience was running thinner by each passing second.
“Maverick, what are you—”
I was cut off when he stood up. “Found one.”
