by Lisa De Jong
Page 43
Author: Lisa De Jong
“Are the cinnamon rolls good?” she asks, looking up from her menu.
“I think so, but they are the only ones I’ve ever had, so I have nothing to compare them to. ”
“What are you getting?”
I watch her eyes scan the menu before looking back down to mine.
“I think I’m going to have a milkshake and French fries,” I say, remembering the way Asher always dipped his French fries in his milkshake.
“That’s Asher’s favorite. He used to take me out for fries and milkshakes after school,” she says sadly.
“It was. That’s what he used to order when I first met him. ” I look up at the door and remember the feeling that washed over me the day he walked in here. He was a stranger then, but I knew that he would become so much more. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like our souls were meant to be together.
“He really liked you,” she tells me.
“Yeah, I really liked him, too,” I reply, smiling back at her. I don’t know if she understands the deep concept of love. I’m not even sure if I understood it until just a few months ago.
“I miss him already,” she says, her eyes welling with tears.
This little girl is breaking what’s left of my wounded heart.
“I miss him too,” I say softly, resting my elbows on the table so, “but he’ll always be right here with us. When you need him, a piece of him will always be with you. ”
A single tear falls from my eyes as I process my own words. Tomorrow, when we’re at Asher’s funeral saying goodbye, it’s won’t necessarily be goodbye. He will always be the reason I breathe to live my life and not just to live. He’s the person who showed me that there is a way to get past everything that ever held me down.
He gave me a second chance.
Chapter 26
I’VE KNOWN THIS DAY WOULD COME, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Physical pain is bothersome, but emotional pain is suffocating. It’s like someone has their hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing as tight as they can. I can’t breathe. I can’t think straight. I just want Asher back. I don’t want to stare down at his lifeless body in a mahogany casket; he doesn’t even look like himself. I want him back, holding me and telling me how much he loves me.
Yet, here I am. Standing in front of the rectangle box. I run my hand along the silk fabric that lines the inside as tears run down my cheeks. I recognize some of his features, but others look nothing like how I remember. His skin is pale, and without being able to see his eyes, he’s barely recognizable. I’m afraid to walk away because I know I’ll never see him again.
He’s going to become just a memory, someone I can only look at in a picture. It’s a reality that hits me like a cement block. It’s hard to stand, so I’m grateful when two hands grip my shoulders, helping to support my weak body. When I turn my head, I see my mom crying right along with me. She removes her hands and wraps her arms around my waist. Her warm, comfortable closeness soothes me and gives me the permission I need to let out every ounce of grief I have left inside.
“Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this,” she whispers, squeezing her arms a little tighter.
“I miss him, Mom,” I cry, placing my arms over hers. “Why did he have to go? I loved him. ” My knees are weak, but her strength holds me up.
“He’s always going to be right here with us, Kate. ”
If I pinch my eyes closed tight, I can see him. I’ve memorized everything about the last few months.
I can only hope I’ll never forget.
He’ll always be with me in some way.
“Let’s just go over here so that the others can say their goodbyes,” she says, running her hands up and down my upper arms. When I open my eyes again, I take several deep breaths in order to gain enough composure to walk back to my seat, but I can’t stop myself from looking down at him one last time
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I sob, gripping the edge of the casket.
She rests her hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing them. “Let’s go take a seat,” she says softly, dropping her hands from my shoulders to grab my hand. When I turn to follow her, I’m met with blue eyes I haven’t seen in months. They’re dark, yet unsure. My first instinct is to run toward them, but then I remember everything that happened between us the last year and I hesitate.
I haven’t seen him since Christmas and even then, it was only for a few minutes. But now, even after everything, looking at him blankets my heart with warmth. He’s been a reminder of all the good things in my life for so long.
Staring at him from across the church, those feelings wash over me again.
I need Beau. If I ever thought I didn’t, I was kidding myself. He’s been there for me from the beginning. He never let me go, even after what happened the last time we spoke.
I drop my mom’s hand and take a couple hesitant steps toward where he’s leaning against the wall at the back of the church. When he doesn’t move, I continue to walk to him.
Besides mom, he’s all I have left.
“I’ll save you a seat,” I hear my mom say a few feet behind me. When I’m only a couple steps away, he reaches out and pulls me into his waiting arms. I completely fall apart. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a guy like him in my life.
“I’m sorry. I came as soon as I heard,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so, so sorry. ”
“I miss him,” I cry as I pull back to look him in the eyes. “I’ve missed you. ”
Beau pulls me against his chest again, running his fingers through my hair. “It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. ”
We stay like that for a long time, locked in each other’s embrace.
“Why didn’t you call me when he was in the hospital? I would have come right away,” he whispers near my ear.
I shut my eyes tight, battling the overwhelming emotions that are brewing inside of me. I’m unable to form words, and after a few minutes he pulls back, releasing my hands from his shirt. “Don’t go. Please stay here with me,” I beg, desperate to have him close to me for as long as I can.
“I’m going to sit in the back. You should join your mom up front,” he replies, lifting his thumb to wipe tears from under my eyes.
“Beau—”
“Kate, the service is about to start,” my mom says from behind me.
I hold one finger up, signaling that I need a minute, but music starts to play over the sound system, halting me in place. Our eyes lock briefly before Beau turns and walks toward the back of the church. There are so many things I want to say to him, but today isn’t really the day for any of that. It can’t wait long, though.
I know tomorrow is never a guarantee.
After I take my seat, I close my eyes and listen to the music that fills the room. It’s a song I’ve listened to many times in the last few days. I picked it just for Asher. It’s a song that I know he loved and one that meant a lot to him.
It now means everything to me.
Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley plays as a slide show displaying Asher’s life from birth to just a few months before he died appears on the large projector screen. It’s so hard to watch, but this is part of my goodbye. Asher lived so much life before I even met him and watching it flash before my eyes helps me to understand.
He was a happy baby with curly blond hair and dimples visible through his constant smile. He loved his Power Ranger PJ’s as a young kid, and lost most of his curls by the time his mom took his picture on the first day of Kindergarten. He loved baseball, football and building towers out of Legos. When the photo of him holding Aubrey for the first time in the hospital pops up, I can’t watch anymore. He loved that little girl so much; it’s evident in his wide smile and excited eyes. Now, he’s not going to be able to see her grow up.
I want to run somewhere far, far away where death doesn’t exi
st. Everyone should be able to live a full life. He should be able to get married, have kids, and live out his dreams of a happily ever after.
I wanted him to be my happily ever after.
My mom grabs for my hand, giving me the will to look up again. There’s so much that I never got to see, and now he’s not even here to tell me about it.
The next photo is of him and a pretty girl with long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He’s got his arm wrapped around her, and they’re both dressed up. Homecoming 2007 it reads at the bottom. The next few photos are also of them, followed by him alone on the day of his high school graduation. The girl must have been Megan; the friend he lost way too soon. The reason he thought he was being punished.
The next three photos bring back memories of us. For the first time, I see from afar how he looked at me, always leaning his body into mine. For the first time, I saw my smile brighten a little more in each photo. The first is the two of us at the zoo, riding the carousel. I thought it was childish, but by the time it stopped, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. The second is from the night Asher made a bonfire for me. He had insisted that we take a photo when we both had marshmallow stuck to our lips. It was so much fun . . . more fun than I’d had in a really long time. The third one was taken the last time we went fishing. I don’t remember seeing anyone take the photo, but Asher is looking up at me while I stand to reel my pole in. By the look on his face, you would think nothing else in this world mattered. He loved me then . . . I can see it.
And the last one is a picture of Asher sitting on the couch playing his guitar for me. It reminds me of the night he made love to me for the first time and showed me what things could be like if I just let go.
The rest of the service is a blur. I’m in a field of memories, too caught up in what was and what can never be again. I hear talking coming from the front of the church, but I don’t actually listen to the words. Music plays a few separate times, but I couldn’t tell you what the songs actually were. And when everyone stands and exits the church, I stay motionless. This is it.
