Just One Song

by Lynn, Stacey

  I just can’t.

  She quirks an eyebrow at me and says nothing. I almost breathe an outward sigh of relief when she doesn’t argue with me about changing the subject and answers instead. “Chase is….good.” Her small flicker of a smile gives her away.

  “You like him!” I’m practically gushing. In all the men Mia has dated, and there’s been plenty, she always keeps it completely casual. This brief flicker is something completely new.

  “I don’t. I do….I don’t know to be honest.” I smile when she blushes a little bit. “He’s just so different, and we had a great time over the weekend. He asked me to the FMCA’s in a few weeks.”

  At least something good came out of our concert. Mia likes a guy. I never thought I’d see the day. “He’s...” she stops, clearly trying to think of what to say. “I know it sounds weird, but he sort of reminds me of Elijah in a lot of ways. Except he’s totally hot.”

  I laugh, because he is; in a dangerous, scary, protector guy kind of way. And I can see the similarities between him and Elijah. Which could seem strange since Elijah is her brother, but he’s intelligent and funny with a great sense of dry humor, and they’ve always had a great relationship. Maybe that’s what Mia needs; someone strong who can handle her but confident in their own right that they’re not intimidated by her success.

  “But I’m not going to stop about you and Zack, either.” I groan loudly. “Stop it and listen to me. I get that you’re scared. I get that you’re afraid to move on from Mark, regardless of how you feel about Zack.” She pauses to give me time to tell her how I feel but I don’t.

  She sighs before continuing. “I get it. And I get that you’re scared about your family being dragged through the papers again. I get it all. So take the time to figure it all out, find a way to fix it, and call Zack. He’s waiting for you. And he’ll be there when you’re ready. I just know it.” She gives me a stern look, like a mother scolding her child for the millionth time over not picking up their toys.

  The problem is I don’t know how to fix it. And I don’t know if there’s anything to fix. We’re simply too different. I take another bite of my southwestern roll and count down the minutes until I can go home, crawl under my covers, and wish something could be completely different. I just haven’t found a way to make it so.

  ***

  Zack’s last stop on his tour ended in Georgia a few nights ago. I know this because, ironically, I’ve been stalking the Celeb Gossip website for any news on him. The only time his name has been mentioned was two nights ago, when Ethan passed out on the stage. It was at least during their last song so the concert wasn’t ruined, but the photograph of all the band members, standing over the passed out musician, with their faces showing their anger and grief and fear was pretty powerful.

  My gut wrenched for Zack knowing he had to go through this and I instantly wanted to be there to comfort him when I saw it. I wasn’t however, brave enough to respond to his text message that told me about it when the concert was over. He must have texted me immediately after that concert to let me know and my heart ached for him because I know he was mad. I also know he didn’t want to fire a band member, even though it’s obviously well deserved.

  I am frustrated, too keyed up to be able to relax, and miserable all at the same time. The only people I have to talk to are Mia, who is the one currently frustrating me; and my parents, who don’t seem as bothered by the photos and the risk of what could happen, either.

  Maybe I am thinking too much into this like everyone says? I just don’t know. It’s not their name or picture that will be splayed out for the world to see, though. My mom actually sounded excited when I told her about the photos. When I first called to tell her I was going on tour, I think her heart dropped to her knees in worry and fear of thinking of her only child on a tour bus with a bunch of male rock stars. I can only imagine the thoughts that went through her head of what I would experience. But then she saw the same photo I did of Zack and me leaving that bar in Boston; courtesy of Mia who is firmly in camp Zack.

  I cried when she told me I looked at him like I used to look at Mark, except this was deeper. And she’s right.

  I am tired. I am tired of running and being afraid. I am tired of being sad. Three weeks ago, I wanted to start living again. To find the sparkle in my eyes and have joy in my life again and I was so close.

  I don’t know where it comes from, but something begins to stir inside of me when I realize that I have to do these things, with or without Zack Walters. He can’t be the one who gives me that sparkle or that happiness. I can’t rely on him. With or without him, it’s not his role to do that for me.

  I need to do it. I need to do it for me. And the first thing I need to do is let go of the anger and bitterness that has had such a drastic grip on me for so long.

  I pick up the phone, find her number, and dial before I lose my nerve.

  “Hello. I’d like to speak with Natalie Linscum.”

  ***

  I arrive at the coffee shop two hours later, and thirty minutes early for my meeting with Natalie. Making the phone call and asking one of the people who had been involved in killing my family to meet me for coffee is one of the hardest phone calls I have ever made. Today, the only thing I hope to accomplish is to let her know that I forgive her and her daughter, Sarah.

  I order a large caramel latte, and find a set of leather looking chairs in the back near a fireplace, allowing us a little bit of privacy. I freeze when she walks in the door. She looks exactly like the pictures that were splattered all over the local newspaper and news programs for weeks after the accident. I immediately want to run. Nothing this woman says will make anything better. Her daughter may have been the one who physically killed my family when she was texting while driving, but this woman lied to cover it up. On some maternal level, I understand a parent wanting to protect their child from harm they would do anything for them.

  However, her decision to lie and say she was the one behind the wheel led to months of unnecessary and additional grief for me and my family to go through. I will never forget it. But for my sake, as much as I want to stand up and scream at the tops of my lungs and force her to apologize publically to me in front of all these strangers, I know the healthiest choice for me is to say what I came to say.

  As soon as she notices me, tears fill my eyes. My palms are sweating and I know the color is draining from my face, a little bit more every second. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t even know what I was thinking in calling her.

  I could just forgive her and Sarah in my head and let it go, couldn’t I?

  I could leave now, and never have to see her again. I want to so badly. I don’t want this woman to know I’ve decided to do this. Will she even care? The thought alone makes me panic all over. What will happen if I tell her I forgive her, and she doesn’t even care? By the time she orders a drink and joins me, I’m a half-second away from leaving and running back to my condo and refusing to leave ever again. I can become a hermit. I’ve lived alone long enough now that it might not be too hard to never leave my house again. The internet can deliver anything I want to my front door. And Mia will still come over for dinner. The idea sounds better and better with every step closer Natalie takes toward me.

  One thing keeps me rooted in my chair. Zack. I think of him, and how much I desperately love him, which I didn’t realize until it was too late. And I know the only way there’s any chance for a future with him, for me to truly be able to move on - with or without him - is to do this.

  I have to do this.

  I take a deep breath, fully aware of the awkward silence that is growing ever since she walked into the place. I wonder if everyone else can feel the tension as much as I can. It feels as if a ten ton weight is pressing down on my chest. I count to ten, slowly, breathing in and out with every breath. I can do this. I can look her in the eye and tell her what I need to say.

  She hasn’t said anything to me. Do I need to go first? I probably sh
ould. I’m the one that called her.

  Ten. I exhale my last breath. I can do this.

  I slowly set my drink on the coffee table between us and raise my eyes to her. “Thank you for meeting me today on such short notice.”

  She’s wearing simple skinny pants, covered with knee-high boots, and a pale pink sweater. She looks elegant, and fashionably dressed for a woman in her mid-40’s if I remember correctly. The pink makes her look soft and fragile against her shoulder length dirty blonde hair. The forced smile she gives me doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “I have waited a very long time to be able to speak with you. I can’t think of any place I could be that is more important than this.” Her words caress me like a gentle wave. I’m startled when she sounds like my own mother does when I need comfort.

  “Yes, well….” Natalie sits in her chair, cautious eyes resting on me, as if trying to gauge whether or not I will start screaming at her.

  “I forgive you.” I blurt it out and I’m so taken aback by own bluntness I look away from her. I take another sip to help calm my nerves. It doesn’t help. I’m two seconds away from being a complete wreck. All I can hear is the sound of thunder pounding in my ears. And then I realize it’s the sound of my heart beating wildly out of control.

  “I don’t deserve it, Nicole. And neither does Sarah.” My head snaps back to her. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I slowly raise my gaze to hers and watch her eyes fill with tears.

  “Sarah ruined so many families that day, Nicole. You most of all, obviously. So many people’s lives were damaged by Sarah’s poor choices and my lies afterwards. Your entire family, your husband’s family, all of your friends, your child’s classmates and friends, my family’s life….the list goes on. I have asked God to forgive me every day since the accident and hope that he wouldn’t hold my sins and mistakes against me, but I have never expected or felt like I deserved yours.” She wipes her tears away before continuing.

  “Sarah walked away with a bandage over her head, and your family didn’t. There isn’t a single thing we could ever do or say to you that could ever begin to express how terribly sorry we are.”

  I wipe my own tears away, silently sobbing, no longer caring I’m in a public place. I knew meeting her, talking to her, would be painful. I knew it would hurt and bring back memories I will never forget.

  What I didn’t expect was that my heart would feel like it’s being shattered all over again. I don’t know how to proceed. I’ve told her I forgive her; she’s acknowledged what they did. We sit in silence, except for our own sniffles, lost in our thoughts for several moments before I can speak again.

  “I no longer want to be the person who I’ve been this last year who lives in such sorrow and feeling so pitied at what I had taken from me. You may not deserve my forgiveness, Natalie. But I’m giving it to you freely. I want you to let Sarah know that hers is given just as freely as well. As upset as I am, as much as it still hurts; I know in my head it was an accident. A careless mistake made by a child. This forgiveness is for my sake, as much as I’m hoping it is for you as well.”

  I don’t know why, but I feel she needs to know this, that Sarah needs to know. I can practically feel her own torment as she looks at me. I may have had the sorrow of losing my family, but she’s the mom of the daughter who carries the weight of being the person to cause it. I want to hate this woman before me. I want to hate her daughter. But as I look at her, I realize I don’t. No matter how angry I’ve been, and I’ve been furious beyond belief; I don’t hate them.

  “How’s Sarah doing?” I don’t even know why I care, but I do. She’s only seventeen, a child, really. Too young to understand what she’s really done.

  Natalie shakes her head slowly. “Better, recently. We’re getting her help. I didn’t think she would do okay being here and seeing you.”

  I nod in understanding.

  “Can I ask how you’re doing?”

  “I’m okay…doing better.” Because I am, or I was at least getting there. Lately I haven’t been so sure anymore.

  “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

  I eye her suspiciously. Whatever she has to say is going to be hard, I can feel it in the depths of my bones.

  “Sarah has been feeling recently, like maybe it would help her heal to tell her story of what she’s been through and what happened.”

  I can’t contain the gasp that escapes from my mouth. Does she plan on going to the papers and telling them more? I’m instantly enraged, but she continues on anyway, as if she can’t see my hands that have started shaking.

  “She wants to start speaking at high schools in the area on the dangers of texting and driving.”

  Wow. That’s…unbelievable. Completely terrifying to think she’ll be talking about my family, but yet; admirable. But this will cause exactly what I’ve been terrified of happening. This is what I have been afraid of. The idea that my family will become the example of the dangers of this reckless behavior.

  On the other hand, if her sharing her story about the decisions she made could potentially save one family from what I’ve experienced, is it worth it? I don’t know if I’ve ever considered this point of view….my family’s story being told could help save lives.

  But is it worth the pain to me?

  Yes. It is. Even worse than re-living it, is imagining another mom, or dad, or child experiencing the loss I have.

  “Out of respect to your family, she plans on keeping everyone’s name anonymous.” She reaches out, like she wants to touch my hand on the table, but changes her mind at the last second and settles it in her own lap. “She doesn’t want to cause you more pain. She just wants to save others from hers.”

  Tears begin to fall again and I wipe them away quickly. I know my answer before I say it, I just have a hard time forming the words.

  “You have my blessing.” Silence falls for several minutes. I can’t believe I can so easily agree to this. And yet, I know it’s the right choice.

  “You are incredible, Nicole. After all we’ve put you through, I’m in awe you would even be willing to forgive us.”

  I’m in awe, too. But perhaps after this I won’t have to be strong.

  Maybe I can finally go back to normal without fear of what might happen.

  I close my eyes again before more tears fall not believing I’m about to say this. “She doesn’t have to keep it anonymous. I have pictures, if she wants them.”

  I eye her hesitantly. She nods after a while. “I’ll let her know.”

  I stand up, feeling like I have to get out of there. I’ve just agreed to the one thing that scares me and while it feels right, I need to be alone.

  I’ve just handed the family that dragged me through the media, the ability to do it again. “I need to go, but thank you for coming today.”

  She reaches out to shake my hand and I take it slowly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that Sarah took away the people you loved so much.”

  I leave without responding.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I fall asleep as soon I reach home again, emotionally exhausted from my meeting with Natalie. When I wake up, I feel a little lighter. It’s unnerving that suddenly, somehow, I’m okay with everything I just allowed, or at least gave my blessing to.

  Or maybe I’ve completely lost my mind and I have no idea what I just agreed to or the ramifications it will cause.

  I want to call Mia and tell her. I want to call Zack and throw my arms around him and let him comfort me as only he can. I want to hug Mark and squeeze Andrew and erase the sixteen months.

  But I can’t do any of it. Zack is who knows where, probably on his way back to L.A., Mia will only make me call him, and even though I want to feel his arms around me, I don’t know if I can. Even now that I’ve talked to Natalie, I’m not sure it changes anything between me and him.

  I do desperately want to see Mark. It’s been too long since I sat and talked with them. I haven’t visi
ted since I got back from the tour; not knowing what to say, which is silly, really. I drag myself out of bed and go to the bathroom to fix my hair and ruined make-up.

  I frown when I look in the mirror. My face looks sallow. My eyes are lifeless. Smudged mascara runs down my cheeks and under my eyes and my hair is slightly ratted from sleeping on it. I brush my hair, remove my make-up and after a quick flicker of blush across my cheeks, I realize it doesn’t matter how I look. I’m going to look just as bad, if not worse, by the time I’m done.

  I answer my phone when I hear Mia’s ring tone spark to life in my kitchen.

  “Hey,” I say solemnly. It’s just been that kind of day.

  “Are you okay?” Of course she would notice immediately, and not let it pass.

  “Yeah. Sort of. I’m on my way out, what’s up?” I don’t tell her where I’m going. I spent so much time at the cemetery after they were buried, my parents and Mia started keeping track of how often I went so I wasn’t there crying every day. I got a lot better as the months went by, allowing myself one trip a week, but there’s something different about today, and I don’t want her knowing.

  She sounds cautious when she speaks again. “You left something on the bus. Chase sent it to me.” I rack my brain trying to think of anything I haven’t been able to find since I unpacked. Whatever it is can’t be that important because I haven’t been missing anything.

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “No. It really can’t. Just meet me downstairs in five minutes, okay?” She hangs up before I can answer.

  I kill a few minutes, taking longer than necessary to pull on my boots and find my scarf and my winter coat. It’s fall, mid-November, and so cold today I feel like it could snow at any moment. I don’t care how cold it is though, I have to see them.