by Harlow Hayes
I placed the shoes next to the wall then sat back on the bed. My journal sat on the desk next to me, and there was only one word I wanted to write about.
LOVE
I don’t believe that my heart could be fuller. The year is almost over and some of the worst pain of my life has happened to me, but in that pain, I found parts of me hidden so deep, and I learned to love in a way that I didn’t even know was possible. I have so much love around me I almost feel smothered and I love it, but what’s even greater than that is the love that I have for myself, and that is a feeling I can’t so easily put into words. How do you describe the feeling when you realize you’re made of diamonds, stars, and an abundance of other beautiful things? When you realize that you are molded by courage and hope and understand that you are priceless and no ceiling can be placed on the joy or love that comes from your heart and flows out into the world. I have made some bad choices, but the smartest one I ever made was not giving up on myself and not giving up on love.
There it was: my journal. Months of scribbles and thoughts about words and what they meant to me. I ripped each page out one by one, allowing them to fall to the floor. I walked over to my desk and grabbed thumb tacks and one by one I pinned them to the wall over my desk, scanning each one, analyzing my thoughts on fear, pain, God, truth, and so much more.
When I was finished, I looked up at the wall and there they all were. Twenty-seven thoughts. Twenty-seven stories. Twenty-seven revelations, each one a reminder of my capabilities and each one a reminder that even though I was slow to create change with my actions, I had everything I needed to grow, to heal, to live, and to love already in me. It had been in me the whole time; I just needed to see it. Warm tears fell down my face, but they weren’t from pain, sadness, or frustration. They were from joy. Because I had made it, I survived, and those words rescued me.
Chapter 40
Ten. I had ten minutes left, and I was being continually reminded, as if I’d somehow forgotten in the last minute. For most of my life I didn’t understand the superstitions, the excitement. In my mind it was just another damn day, but after what I had been through I finally understood it—the basic gratitude and joy that can be cultivated when you choose to climb out of the pit. I had made it over my hurdles for the year and no one could take that from me.
“Now you can become a member of the Fuck We’re So Close to Thirty Club,” Melanie said.
I chuckled.
“You sad about it?” she asked.
“No, I’m not sad,” I said. “I’ll be turning up when I’m seventy anyway, so twenty-eight is nothing, plus I’m still sexy, so…”
“Yeah, you are,” Tommy yelled from the kitchen.
Frankie laughed from behind his hand of cards and our eyes locked, but he quickly averted them.
I was happy for him. Happy for them. Happy to see them together. Tommy back in his life made all the difference, but for Frankie and I, our story had reached the final act. Since Tommy had been out of rehab, Frankie was finally sober, but the time that we spent together was minimal. In that hospital room, I promised Frankie that I wouldn’t desert him, that I wouldn’t leave him to pick up the pieces of his life alone, and I kept my promise the best that I could, but our relationship was fading. It felt like we were in two separate lifeboats, watching the other slowly drift away with the ocean current.
If I were to speak the truth, it would be this: I didn’t want to let go, but I knew all too well my dilemma when it came to choosing what I ought to do versus what I wanted to do. And I wanted to hold on, to not feel the sting of separation, but to hold on would only prolong the inevitable. We were meant to live separate lives and we both knew that we would be better for it.
Rosalina was still sad, but she would be for a while. Losing her mother just about broke her, but each day I watched her slowly move forward. There were moments we would talk, when the house was quiet, and discuss the parallels of our disappointments and grief, but at the end of our conversation we usually found ourselves laughing so hard we thought our sides would burst. What an unlikely friend she was, and I hoped she continued to be.
Kate was still Kate, but we had gotten to a better place, too. I don’t know who was more egotistical, me or her, but in her own way she cared, even if she didn’t know how to express it. Melanie, lovestruck and hopeful, as her usual. She was excited about her new relationship with Charlie, and I hoped and prayed that he was her golden ticket to holy matrimony because I wasn’t prepared to deal with another meltdown.
As for me, my mind wandered back to my question. What did I want? And I thought about Niko. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in weeks, and it only left me with a pang of regret. I had made a terrible mistake that left me feeling queasy. Regardless of everything, I still cared, and my previous thoughts, feelings, and beliefs didn’t matter anymore. My mind was free to feel any way it wanted to, and if I wanted to miss him, I could. And if I wanted to love him, I could do that, too. My mind came back to me as the knocking on the door got louder and I jumped up.
“I got it!” I said, my heart beating through my chest. It had to be Niko. My mind had been so concentrated on him, I had to have summoned him telepathically. When I opened the door, my excitement diminished—it was Erin. Why was she here? My first instinct was to be hostile, but that feeling subsided when I looked her in the eyes.
“Erin….”
She looked nervous.
“I just… I just need to talk to you.” She looked past me into the house. “Privately.”
I stepped out onto the porch and shut the door. I started to shake as soon as the cold air hit me.
“I’m sorry for showing up here, but I don’t have your number anymore.”
I was sure she had deleted it and was glad, but my birthday was in a few minutes and I didn’t intend on spending it with the likes of her.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to… I don’t…. I didn’t know what happened to you, Mara. That night at your party.” She paused, waiting for me to say something.
“No one did,” I said, crossing my arms. “Not until Frankie told everybody.”
“No, not that party, the one on your birthday.”
I wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, but she needed to spit it out already.
“I left a little while after you, but I parked on the street… I saw a guy come from the parking garage. He looked frazzled, covered in blood. I thought he just had a nosebleed. He was at your party, but I didn’t think anything of it until your party here.” She looked down at her feet. “I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. And Jason is sorry for what we did to you.” She took a deep breath. “I know it’s nuts, me coming here like this, but I’m kind of superstitious and I didn’t want to start the new year without telling you I was sorry.”
“You’re the witness?” I was astonished.
“I didn’t know if it would help, but I didn’t want to do nothing.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My fear was gone and its disappearance was facilitated by her, out of all the people in the metropolitan area of Chicago.
“Thank you.” It came out slow, as if I was unsure that I even wanted to offer it. But I did the polite thing.
“Do you want to come in? It’s pretty cold out.”
“No, I’m going to head home, but I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” I said as a thin smile cracked on my face, and she smiled back before turning around and walking down the porch steps and onto the street.
“Mara, get in here, it’s almost time!” Rosalina yelled.
I ran back into the house, shutting the door behind me. I sat in the living room, surrounded by people who I once thought I couldn’t like, let alone love, and in my own way, I did. I loved them. And the countdown began.
“Happy New Year!” we all yelled together, and the hugging commenced, followed by a string of happy birthdays. I sat back down on the couch, elated. I had made it
. Kate came from the kitchen, face aglow from the candles on my birthday cake, and Melanie dimmed the lights as the birthday song hummed in my ears. She sat it on the ottoman in front of me.
“Make a wish,” Melanie said, her face filled with so much enthusiasm you would have thought that it was her birthday. They looked over me, each one of them. Their faces filled with love and understanding. I felt it radiating from them. I wasn’t alone.
I looked at the candles and rejoiced that twenty-seven was over. I made my wish with confidence and blew out the candles.
Hello, twenty-eight.
* * *
Restlessness. It was thirty-six minutes into the new year and I couldn’t sit still. It was my birthday and I was doing the dishes.
Melanie came in the kitchen, bringing some more plates. “I can clean these, Mara,” she said.
“No, no, I got it,” I said, my voice nervous.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I picked up another glass out of the sink then paused. “I just can’t…”
“Have you called him?” she asked. She knew exactly what I meant.
“No,” I said, “but I’m about to go see him.”
“Mara, you can’t do that!”
I looked at her strangely, wondering why I couldn’t.
“You can’t just show up to people’s houses without calling first,” she said. “It’s rude.”
“Well, I guess I’m just rude, then,” I said as I smiled and threw the dish towel at her. “I’ll be back.”
I grabbed my coat and stormed out of the house into the frigid cold. Light snow flurries fell into the streets and people roamed in celebration. I hopped on a train and the whole ride there I imagined what kinds of trouble I could be causing. He might not even be home. He might not be alone. I approached his building and the restlessness left me. I could see that the lights were on, so I made my way to the front door. I raised my hand, knocked, and I waited for what felt like hours. I started to walk away, feeling that this all was a mistake, then the door opened. Niko stood there looking at me, his eyes questioning. He was in a white T-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair had grown out a bit since the last time I saw him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. I hope you weren’t asleep.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He wasn’t interested in seeing me. I could tell.
“Look, I don’t want to keep you. I just needed to see you to tell you that I’m sorry.”
He leaned up against the doorframe and placed his hands in his pockets.
“And I know that this shouldn’t be an excuse, but I acted the way I did because I had never felt… I had never felt what it was like to feel free, to be accepted for just me being the sassy, confused, borderline narcissistic person that I am. Not ever… and it scared the shit out of me. And I know that it sounds like crap, and I could go on and on blaming my parents or my chaotic life and poor coping skills and a lot of other bullshit, but I’m not. I was wrong. How I treated you was wrong.”
Niko looked at me and I couldn’t read his face.
“Sorry if I ruined your New Year, but I had to say it.”
I took a step back. He could take it however he wanted to now. I’d said my part and I wasn’t going to fall apart if he told me to fuck off. I would walk my ass right back down those stairs with dignity, knowing that I did what was right for my conscience.
“I didn’t want to start the new year without making peace,” I said.
He looked down at the floor and back up at me.
“Thanks. Thanks for coming and letting me know.”
“Thanks for listening.” And the door shut in my face.
It was over. I didn’t feel as overjoyed as I thought I would have felt. I thought that somewhere in that moment Niko would have forgiven me and we would continue on like we had been before. So much for dignity, I thought. I was disgruntled. I had been rejected, but there was nothing left to be done.
I walked away, down the stairs and out the door. The cold air whipped past my face as I walked back the way I came. Though disappointed, I had conquered something else, taken that extra step, and felt that whatever twenty-eight had to offer, I could handle it, I could take care of myself, and that was the best thing I could have wished for.
I was several yards away from his building when I heard my name.
“Mara.” His voice rang out into the wind. When I turned around and looked up, Niko was standing on his patio.
“Wait,” he said.
I took a few steps closer so I could hear him.
He leaned on the banister and looked down at me. “Come back.”
I didn’t question it. I turned around and made my way up the stairs to his door, confidence building inside of me with each step. The door was slightly cracked, so I let myself in. When I closed it behind me I looked up and found him leaning against the island in the kitchen, arms and legs crossed.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You,” he said, uncrossing his arms and resting his hands on the counter.
I slipped out of my coat and let it fall to the floor and I walked toward him. He grabbed my hands and leaned in to kiss my cheek. I felt his warmth course through my body. He leaned back and looked me in the eyes.
“Happy birthday.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his body into mine and our lips touched. It wasn’t singular, overwhelming happiness, joy, or passion I felt, but life felt abundant. I wanted to explore him, every inch of his body and mind and every corner and crevasse of his soul. I wasn’t sure how we would continue from that moment, but any doubts I had didn’t overshadow what I knew in my mind to be true. His friendship was freedom to me, and it fed my soul. Whether we made it or not, that would be up to us. He was good for me, but I was probably bad for him in so many ways, and he knew it.
But he drew me in, unflinching at the glorious, reconstructed mess that was me. I had taken another step and I was satisfied to see that it had led me to him. Then came the revelation that I was making the life that I wanted for myself.
My wish was coming true, and I wasn’t worried or afraid.
Acknowledgments
I am filled with so much gratitude and I want to give my deepest thanks to the people who have provided me with support during this long journey. I must thank my family, because without your continued support of my dreams, I would have never found the courage to write this book. Particularly my mother, Kathy, and father, Larry. Mom, thank you for teaching me to dream, and Dad, thank you for teaching me how to make them a reality. I love you both.
Zenee Render, Michelle Pottratz, and Kayla Wulff, I thank you for reading parts of the book in its early stages. It wasn’t the best writing at the time, and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy lives to read it and provide valuable feedback. Sierra Sullivan, I thank you for giving me a journal many years ago on my birthday so I could get back to writing. The push you gave me is the one I need to get started.
Then there are those who inspired me and whose supportive words have meant so much: Andrea Bey, Lauren V., Andie C., Emily Crohn, Seth Teters, Corky, and Vanessa Domizlaff, thank you. And last but not least, I would like to thank my editor, Crystal Watanabe. Thank you for all of the red marks and writing in the margins. Your hard work brought my novel to life and I am beyond grateful.
Harlow Hayes
27 REVELATIONS
Harlow Hayes was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. She has always had a passion for writing and storytelling in its many forms, and when she’s not immersed in her writing, she enjoys reading both fiction and non-fiction, watching movies, and listening to music. She currently lives in Chattanooga, TN. 27 Revelations is her first novel.
www.harlowhayesbooks.com
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