The Risen: Dawning

by Marie F. Crow

  “Miss them yet?” Simon’s voice clenches my stomach. I had not heard him approach with how deep I have sunk into my own thoughts.

  “Miss Shelia yet?” I will not give him my eyes.

  “Everyday.” That word should have held regret, but it is hollow. It is not empty. It just comes from deep behind a shelter he will not let me see. Simon and I no longer hold enough trust for the other to allow our true emotions to show.

  He is standing nervously with two trays of food. I hope he is not planning what his body language is trying to ask for permission.

  “Paula says you have not eaten breakfast in a few days.” Yup, he is.

  “I’m not a big breakfast person.” See, it is the food I am refusing, not you. I smile at him, trying to convince him.

  “Or lunch.” He continues to stare at me.

  “Gee, so much going on, who has time for lunch these days? Things to kill, people to avoid, angst to stir. It gets really exhausting sometimes.” Look, I’m a sweet little girl. Don’t you see my smile?

  “Or dinner.” I guess I am not very convincing.

  “Would you believe me if I said I was on a diet?” I widen my smile at him, even as he drops a tray in front of me. “Guess not?”

  “We don’t have to talk.” Simon takes the seat that once held a tender smile for me. There are no smiles before me now.

  I sense another plot stirring with his words. For men to believe females are so conniving, I seem to keep falling more and more into the center of male drama proving that they are wrong. I can’t help wondering what new bend my coaster is about to take now. I wonder, but I am not going to ask. I plan to ride this denial thing until the end.

  Chapter 39

  “I saw you and Simon this morning.” Shelia tells me, but her voice is more of a question.

  “He was worried about my nutritional habits.” It is not a complete lie.

  “I’m just glad you two are talking again. If you can forgive him, then maybe the others can too.” She smiles to herself with the thought, as Simon’s plot comes to light.

  “…and you? How are you two doing?” I focus on the many piles of towels and other assorted piles of laundry before us. I am not sure how the keeping of all the laundry has fallen to us, but here we are, folding towel after towel and sheet after sheet. It is a great down grade from Zombie Barbie to Laundry Barbie in my desperate attempt to hide from those that I used to seek.

  “He is still rooming with Dolph and Richard. I am sure it is one giant male sleepover for them.” She still has the strength to hold the positive spin that makes her so cherished. I can see how much it hurts her though with the look of her eyes. So much for the Risen keeping marriages together after all.

  “It sounds to me like you miss him. It is okay to forgive him.” She turns to look at me with doubt. “You don’t owe me anything Shelia. Marxx is healing. I’m fine. The rest of them are just waiting for an apology to ease their hurt male egos. I wouldn’t leave them in a room with Ross anytime soon, but then, that was probably true before all of this anyway.”

  “It just still seems wrong what they did. I don’t know what kind of apology would ever make up for it. For what might have happened.” Her voice is whisper thin with shame. “Look at what has happened. You and Aimes?”

  I shrug at the mention of her name. “That actually has nothing to do with them.”

  “What does it have to do with then?” She is testing me with her question. She has been hinting at asking this for days, but has never held the courage until now.

  “Just something she said.” Is all I offer her curiosity.

  “You have to talk about it.” Her hand comes to cover mine with her gentle words.

  “So I keep getting told.” I know I have run into a brick wall blocking any escape. She will not let me evade her now. My suffering is a red cloak to a bull for her. She can’t take her eyes off of it and she is rushing forward to discover it.

  She stares at me, waiting for me to begin like a child waiting for a bedtime story, and as every parent has wondered at least once in their life, I wonder how much I can just bluff to make her leave me alone.

  “I wasn’t ready to learn the truth about Lawless and Leslie. I really didn’t want to learn it in a moment of my best friend’s bitterness with him.” I cover over my anger of knowing that she knew all along. I keep that extra bite of bitter to myself

  “All of this is because of that? That seems silly to fight over. Even I knew about them.” The contempt in her voice makes me regret not running through that brick wall for dear life.

  “Just have her do an apology and appease your ego.” She says turning my words back onto me. Someone has been around J.D. a little more than I have been aware.

  “It’s not that simple.” I shrug from her contempt as I start to pile the folded artwork of ragged sheets and bleached towels.

  “Why?” One simple word from her and I am left drowning without answers.

  I do not know why it is not that simple, or why I can’t let it go. The sin is with Lawless, not Aimes, but I am clinging to my bitterness for them both like shining armor of righteousness.

  “It’s how they treat her.” Shelia is determined to clean more than just the piles of laundry today. I am glad the bottle of bleach is out of her reach for my still open wounds. “They have left you to figure it out all on your own. They huddle around her keeping her safe. Even Lawless is still in their clique. Only you seem to be on the outside now.”

  “The men talk to me.” I answer her, trying to defend them for some reason. Maybe I am just pouting.

  “Alone yes, but when have more than just one sat with you? Or acknowledged you in front of her? They don’t want to upset her, but you, they seem to think you are doing fine on your own. Are you?” She asks me, and I am really wishing there were more towels to focus on.

  “I’m fine.” Which is what every female says when they are not. She knows that and I might as well be wearing that red cloak again with how her eyes focus on me.

  “Sure. You eat alone. You sleep alone. You spend all day alone. Sounds perfectly fine to me.” I think she has found the bleach. The lemon juice, at the very least.

  “I’m not alone right now.” I look to her, trying to smile. Down, Toro. Down.

  “I’m not Aimes. Never will be. I’m not Rhett. I’m not Chapel. I’m not Marxx. I’m not Lawless. I’m not even J.D.” Each name she says rips off more of the scab I have been using to heal their disappearance.

  “I appreciate all the help these past few days, really I do. I do enjoy our friendship. It has not been easy on either of us to get through this.” She is going for the salt now, and I brace for it.

  “…but?” I ask, letting her know I am waiting for it. Sprinkle me, Sister.

  “…but Paula and I cannot replace them. It is obvious you have lost one family already. Why are you so desperate to lose another?” Her words rip the scab raw. How little she knows and yet how directly her words hit.

  “Helena, they need you.” It is Shelia that tells me this, but it is another voice I hear saying it. “But you need them, too. Talk to them.”

  My face must have shown her my fear. I do not want to admit how afraid I am with the thought of approaching them.

  “Look, if it goes wrong, then Paula and I are still right here. At least you can say you tried. It might at least give you some closure.” Her smile is sugar sweet and just as damaging.

  I never understood this fascination with closure. I do not understand why people want to hear words that will only hurt them, or the need to say words that will only hurt others. What door can be closed in peace when so much more is piled upon the situation propping it open? I have always preferred to just let it go. I let the hurt dampen and dry, so it can be buried somewhere deep inside, allowing me to forget it. It allows me to walk away, but also, to keep on walking.
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  I stay in silence, allowing her to think that I am considering all the words of wisdom she has spoken to me. Her smile is telling of how proud she is to have been such a pivotal piece to solving my dilemmas. It makes a much easier time of restocking the towels in the locker rooms with her this way. Besides, who am I to pop such a fragile bubble when she is so happy? That’s me, always a giver.

  How am I rewarded? By coming face to face with what I was trying to avoid all morning. The sound of their laughter snakes up my spine almost in a chill. It fills me with a cold dread of having to walk through the room. I can already picture their aloof manner while watching me like wolves. Their eyes will follow my every step while their voices continue to talk over my appearance, only further punctuating how little I mean to them now. They will huddle around her to protect her fragile senses from my evil presence. I start my silent retreat from the swinging door before me, hoping I can slip away, when I feel Shelia’s hands on my shoulders.

  “Good luck.” She whispers into my ear and shoves me through the door.

  My entrance is anything but graceful. To say I crashed through the door would be praise to how I stumble and trip into the room. It is not an entrance one can recover from with any dignity. An amazing comical one-liner, maybe, but guess what I am all out of as the room falls silent around me.

  “Boots giving you trouble again, Barbie?” I hear J.D. call to me, and I look to him without meaning to. He smiles at me from his weight bench that luck would place nearest to me. His tank top is shaded from his workout, even as his voice proves that he is not being pushed to his limits. They do not work out for the exertion of it. It is just a spot to help fill the new boredom of this life.

  I am grateful for J.D. speaking first. With that simple greeting, he has explained the rules. I am welcomed around him as far as he is concerned which means they will follow his example and welcome me as well. If he had ignored me, it would have been a different declaration. The tension in the room reduces with the grin he is giving me at my amazing entrance. I curtsy for him, hiding the fact that my voice is locked with my fear standing here.

  They are all here. Our once little happy family is spread out on the various weight machines, and I stand frozen, like an outsider who just walked into the wrong room. Right about now, I am picturing a few things I would like to shove Shelia from as payback for her shove of me. Tall things; really, really, tall things.

  “Towels?” I offer like a perky hotel staff. “Shelia and I were just restocking the locker rooms.” Even to me, my explanation sounds lame.

  Of course it would be Marxx who holds his hand up in the air, waiting for one. Marxx, the one who is the furthest in the room from me. Marxx, who to get to, I will have to walk right past them all with their watching eyes. Hold on folks, we are about to climb another hill with this never-ending roller coaster of mine.

  I walk past each machine with a different person pretending to not notice me. Even Aimes, with Lawless spotting her, continues in her presses. The sight of them, with their newly healed bond, gives me the fire to walk firmer with each step. The sight of them together now coats my words with venom. Like poisoned apples waiting in a tree, I only need the right wind for them to fall.

  Marxx pats a spot on the bench beside him where he has been pressing weights with his legs. His arm may be wounded, but he refuses to be left behind in the male bonding. “Don’t be so hateful.” He tells me, hiding the words behind the towel is he using to clean his face. “What did you expect them to do?”

  “Oh, I am not surprised.” The wind blows and apples fall, and start to roll, I cannot stop them.

  “Don’t.” Chapel whispers to me from the bench beside us.

  “Don’t worry, Chap. I was just leaving. I would hate to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Why, all you big strong men may have to stop and rush to coddle the little girl. That would just ruin your workouts.” I let my voice carry, coating it with southern sugary sweetness.

  “Helena.” Marxx says to me, grabbing my arm to pull my attention to him.

  “Let me guess, I am out of line.” I am fighting to keep the pain from my voice with his rushing to her side even now. I hold on to my anger instead, ignoring his look of imploring.

  J.D. stands, watching over the room of his naughty children with their sudden outburst. He nods for me to come to him when our eyes meet. I refuse, sitting like a pouting kid in the back row. Not that I think it will really save me from detention. Aimes has turned her back to me, leaning into Lawless who watches me behind his blank mask. I have no choice now but to be pulled into the principal’s office.

  “Hells, walk with me.” He turns to leave the room, not waiting to see if I stand to follow him. He knows that I need an exit from this room that will leave me a spot of dignity. If it is anything like my entrance, it will be a small spot.

  Marxx drops his hand from my arm with a great sigh of defeat. There is no anger to feed me the courage to walk back between all of them. Watching, who was once my best friend in the arms of who used to be my only strength, has poured ice water all over any fire my anger might have fueled. The sight only proves to me how far I have fallen from their graces. No one stands to voice any outrage of this new bond. No one comes to me with the comfort of a hug or a kind word. There are just blank faces to watch me walk past and Rhett’s smirk.

  “Your roots are showing Amelia. You should try red this time. It would give you one more thing you and Leslie can have in common.” No, I am not sorry. It felt good.

  J.D. is waiting for me in the hall. His frown shows he heard my last words. “Feel better?”

  I shrug, leaning against the wall and waiting for the lecture.

  “You’re better than this.” He tells me. I wait for the Pro-Aimes chat. Someone should be making tee shirts for them to wear. “That was rather weak.”

  It takes me a moment to fully hear what he said to me. When I do, I open my eyes to see him smiling. His eyes are vibrant with his mirth.

  “What? Did you think I as going to give you a talking to? Convince you to go in there? Hug it out?” He chuckles with the thought. “That’s not my girl.”

  “Yes, sorta. It seems to be the popular line of thought.” I wait for the violent mood swing, the instant icy stare, the things that signal he was just setting you up to make the threat that much more severe.

  “When have I ever given a shit about being popular?” He is right. The Christmas card list never was really long for J.D.

  “Girly look here, I am about as sick as you are over this. They walk around on eggshells with her. Chapel about loses his mind if she so much as sniffles. Law blames himself, letting that guilt smother his logic. Rhett and Marxx are just about willing to do anything to make her shut up.”

  I roll my eyes at the mention of the word “anything”, not needing to repeat it to let him know what I think of her actions.

  “It ain’t reached that yet.” He chuckles. “She’s not you Hells. You have taken all of this with a giant middle finger to them. They don’t know you like I know you though. If I held my arms out right now, you’d fight me on it. You’d fight me even if I forced them around you, but deep down, you want it.” His voice drops, and for a few moments of silence between us, he proves how right he is.

  J.D. holds his arms out to me in this dark, silent hallway. All I need to do is take two steps to him, and I will have the comfort I need. The arms of the only “Father” to have ever held me, giving me comfort.

  I will have a warm chest to hide against and strong arms to hide my pain. I could listen to his heartbeat, with its solid rhythm, chasing away my doubts. I could drown in his very male scent to ease down the girl in me. None of it happens. I stay leaning against the wall staring at him.

  “A man won’t go where he is not needed Hells. You want them back? Show them you need them.” He stands there, still holding out his arms to me in a silent war of my wil
l.

  Ashley told me that I had to live for them. I had to keep fighting because they needed me. Now as I lean here, staring at the invitation before me, my heart beats a different truth. It terrifies me.

  I go to him, those two steps feeling like miles, until I find myself resting against his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me close. His head rests on the top of mine as he holds me, allowing me to nestle against him with my need for human contact.

  “You’re not weak, Helena. Allowing someone to see behind those high walls of yours, doesn’t make you weak. We all need to be reminded where home is now and again. It doesn’t make you weak. You remember that. Only the lonely are weak, Girl.” He whispers this into the top of my hair as he holds me.

  I have no idea how to tell J.D. that if this is true, then I am the weakest person he knows at this moment.

  Chapter 40

  Over breakfast, Simon had asked me to join them for dinner that night. The idea of eating with him was only a tad bit less depressing than eating another meal alone. That tad was enough to have me accept. Now as I am sitting here with Simon, Dolph, Richard, and Ross, across from me, I am rethinking the exact measurement of a “tad”.

  “We need to fix this. The lines are being drawn more between us everyday.” I listen to Richard. Literally, I am just listening. If they want conversation from me, then they will have to talk about something I have a care about. Fixing their male drama, is not one of those things.

  I do look behind me to where J.D. sits with the rest on either side of him. They are seated along one side of a long table directly behind ours in their dark leather vests. With each group of men sitting in this style, they appear to be matched up for a standoff. All it needs is for one group to start snapping their fingers or to start dancing to be any more comical. Who’s bad?