Reckless Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  I walk over to my dad and put my arms around him, embracing him for the first time in months. When I pull back I see he’s staring at the plane.

  “Fancy boyfriend?”

  I look back at the plane and then meet my dad’s questioning look and shrug.

  “He’s a little bit fancy.”

  “Serious?”

  “It’s a little bit serious.”

  “Serious enough to let you take his private plane but not serious enough to bring to your sister’s wedding?” he asks in that way that dads ask questions about boys and their intentions for their daughters.

  “Serious enough to leave him home and not have you give him the third degree.” I pull his arms and swing him around toward the car. “Come on, I want to go home and make taffy.”

  Dad stops in his tracks and I halt, too, my arm still clinging to his. I turn around and see his mouth is open in surprise but the heavy lids of his eyes are sloped in. “You want to make taffy? You haven’t wanted to make it since—” He stops for a second and I’m staring at him with my brows piled high, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Never mind. Lets go home and make taffy.”

  “Is that my baby girl?” Mom comes barreling out the house before I even have a chance to get out of the car. I close the door just in time to get the full body Pamela Paige embrace. She smells like baked ham and cookie dough. Just like my mom should.

  I sink into her hug and return it. She pushes me back and holds me at arm’s length to properly evaluate me. Her eyes look for the three things they always do: my weight to make sure I’m eating, my hair to ensure I’m eating right, and my eyes to make sure enough of those foods are vegetables.

  My stomach forms knots just waiting for the worrying to start.

  “You look good,” she says and I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. She takes a strand of my hair and holds it in her hands. “You got your hair done. I like it.” Her smile is as wide as my eyes.

  I stare at her for a second and wait for the “but” to come but there is none. She has nothing to add. No concerns, no worries.

  “I’m making the trays for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. Why don’t you put your bags up in your room and rest for a bit. You can come down when you’re ready,” she says but dad steps in.

  “Emma and I are gonna make taffy.” His voice comes up at the end as if he is ending the statement in a question.

  I turn toward him and then back to my mom, who is looking at him in surprise. “Is that right? Well, there is plenty of room in the kitchen for everyone. Let’s get inside.”

  Mom puts her arm around me and I walk with her into the house, dad carrying my bag behind us.

  Mom, Dad and I stayed up until one in the morning making dinner and taffy for the rehearsal dinner tonight. I told them stories about the Juliette Academy and my life in New York. Dad shared some of his new lectures with me and mom introduced her newest kitten, Camilla, named for Matthew McConaughey’s wife. I was quite surprised Leah would name a cat after the devil woman who stole her man but I suppose since she is getting married, it’s only right to let go of her hold on the great McConaughey . . . at least where his marital status is concerned.

  It was close to midnight when mom finally worked up the courage to ask me about my own love life. I could tell a few times she was dancing around the topic. I know Leah told them I was dating someone and dad saw the plane. How much information they actually know about the guy I’m dating, I have no idea.

  If I wasn’t so unsure about where Alexander and I stood I would have offered up the information myself. The problem is, he still hadn’t called. I kept my phone on ring but left it in my bag. I wasn’t going to stare at it all night.

  So I told them I was dating someone but it was casual. If I told my parents I had fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who keeps secrets hidden in a manila envelope, they’d panic and suggest I see Dr. Scheuler. No, thank you.

  When I finally made it to bed, I looked at my phone and saw there were still no calls, no texts, nothing. I turned my phone off and stared at the ceiling until I passed out.

  “So, that’s what’s been going on in my life,” I say to the piece of stone in front of me. It’s beautiful, about four feet tall, and made of red granite. Angel wings adorn the top and the name Luke Robert Paige written in large font. There is space below his name where mom and dad have vowed they want to be buried as well.

  I came to the cemetery this morning. It’s my first time since that cold day in January when we laid Luke to rest. It’s just as cold today as it was then, but I came prepared with a blanket, thermos of hot coffee, and some of the taffy dad and I made last night. It’s too early to be eating sweets but I don’t care. Today is the kind of day that needs to start with eating something bad.

  I’ve been here for a little over an hour, telling Luke everything that happened since the day of the car accident. Turns out he’s a better listener than Dr. Schueler. He lets me get all my thoughts out without interrupting. Okay, it’s a morbid thought but there is truth. Sometimes you just need to say what you’re feeling out loud without someone else asking questions or telling you why you feel the way you do. A person just needs to feel without analysing it.

  “I know it’s crazy to love someone like Alexander. But, you see, Luke, he is sweet and loving and funny and passionate. I know you and Leah think music guys are lame but he is far from lame. You two would have gotten along so well. He has a motorcycle. I know you would be out on it in a second. He also knows celebrities and models.” My inside coil at the thought of some of the ones he’s dated. Leah filled me in on a few. Talk about not measuring up. I look like a wildebeest compared to some of them. I shake it off as Leah would and carry on. “He definitely would have hooked you up with a model or two. Imagine what your frat brothers would’ve said.”

  The thought makes me sad. The words would have are terribly depressing.

  “I miss you little brother.” I roll my eyes up in order to keep the tears from falling but they are stinging from the inside. I inhale a shaky breath. “It’s hard to believe you’re not here. I try to do that thing where you pretend the person who died is away at war or something and will return any day. The truth is, you’re not coming back.” My eyebrows feel heavy on my forehead and fall down toward my eyelids. “I have been trying to avoid coming here for so long. It’s like, if I don’t come here, then you’re not really here and none of it happened.”

  My hand curls up to feel that familiar burn that has kept me from moving on. Funny thing about it, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did almost a year ago. It’s become a part of me. Something I am learning to tolerate.

  “Everyone thinks my depression was from losing my ability to play the violin. As if losing you wasn’t enough, it was the music that sent me over the edge.” I shake my head at the though. “Fuck the violin.” I say it again louder. “Fuck. The. Violin.

  “If God gave me a choice that night and told me it was your life or my entire arm, I would have said, take the arm. Hell, I would have said take my life! It was never about the damn violin. It wasn’t about my fucking career. It was about you. It was always you.”

  My heart is beating rapidly and my body shivers, not from the cold but from the nerves of the feelings in my blood, running through my veins.

  “For so long I’ve been wallowing, pretending I was depressed about my damned hand when I really couldn’t care less. I just want you back. That’s right, Luke, I want you back and I have been too scared to say it out loud.”

  Large, fat tears run down my face as I break down in front of a piece of stone. The ground beneath my knees is cold and the air against my wet cheeks is freezing but it doesn’t matter. I am crying for my brother. Crying for the life he lost. Crying for the future he’ll never have. Crying for the dreams he’ll never see.

  “I am missing you like crazy, Luke.” I brush the tears from my face and look up at his name. “You’d hate these tears.” I laugh a little. “Oh,
well. You never did understand how Leah and I got so emotional over things. Guess that’s just girls for ya.” Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I stand and wrap the blanket around my shoulders.

  “I’m leaving some of daddy’s taffy here for you. I know its silly, but whatever.” I place the bag next to the headstone and pick up my thermos, not before placing a kiss on the hard, cold granite.

  “I miss you little brother.”

  I stay at the cemetery for another hour just staring at the headstone and running my fingers inside the etched lettering of Luke Robert Paige. My thoughts and feelings that have played throughout the last eleven months are so heavy on my head, I can’t leave.

  By the time I get in my car it’s close to one in the afternoon. I drive home as slow as possible, driving through my old neighbourhood and passing all the places Leah, Luke, and I used to frequent as kids. Our school, the local McDonald’s, old lady Crandel’s house where she would yell at us for playing on her lawn, and Jenny Fowler’s house that had a chicken coop in the back. I pass the old music store that is now a Chinese takeout and the old Blockbuster that has been turned into a Party City. We were here every Friday night. Dad loves movies so we took turns on who could pick out the movie for the week. Going out to pick out the movie was part of the excitement.

  Pulling into my parent’s driveway, I see the tree house in the backyard. When the car is in park, I get out and stare at it for a moment. There were a lot of great memories in that tree house. Maybe Leah and Adam will have kids soon and they can come here and make some new memories.

  I feel my face smiling.

  Yeah, kids around here would be great.

  “I’m getting marrriieeedddd!”

  I am having a serious case of déjà vu right now.

  My mouth is dry and I know when I speak I’ll have man-voice.

  “Get up, get up, get up! I’m getting marrriieeedddd!” Leah is bouncing on my bed, and the entire thing squeaks and shakes.

  “Dear, Lord, woman. As if anyone could forget.” I throw myself back under the covers and put my head back in the darkness.

  Leah pulls the blanket down and off my entire body. I reach for the pillow and place it over my head. I try to hit her as if I’m hitting the snooze button on an alarm clock.

  “Ten more minutes,” I mumble from under the pillow.

  “Fine, I’m coming back in ten with a glass of ice water,” she threatens and the thought wakes me up. I have no doubt she is telling the truth.

  She leaves the room and I slowly start to roll out of bed by placing one foot on the floor. I’m not used to waking up at the crack of dawn. Alexander gets up this early and then gives me soft kisses before leaving the apartment.

  Ugh, Alexander Asher.

  He still hasn’t called.

  I haven’t called him, either for that matter.

  If he isn’t done thinking soon then I’ll give him something to think about and it won’t be pretty.

  Placing another foot on the floor, I roll the pillow off my face and look up at the ceiling, adjusting my eyes to the bright light that Leah turned on. I look at the clock and see it’s six in the morning. Hair and makeup people are coming at eight so everyone has to be showered and in their Spanx by then. Since mom and dad only have one full bathroom in the house, it could take a while.

  The ceremony isn’t until noon but Leah wants to take pictures before then. Then of course, there are more pictures after and the reception starts at three. Leah and Adam even have an after party planned at McConaughey’s.

  Man, this is going to be a long day.

  I walk over to my drawer and pull out my undergarments for the day. I hear the shower running so I have to wait my turn. My dress from last night’s rehearsal dinner is resting on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. My parents hosted the party here at the house.

  I spent a good portion of the evening retelling the same story.

  No, I don’t play the violin anymore.

  Yes, I moved to New York City.

  No, it’s not just like Sex and the City” (At least for me, its not.)

  Yes, I am working at a school.

  Yes, I am seeing someone.

  No, he is not coming to the wedding.

  My grandmother was the most probing. She wanted to know about the “young man I’ve been seeing.” I assured her he’s thirty-two years old and has a full-time job. Never married, no kids . . . you know, the typical things grandmas want to know.

  “Well, if he’s such a catch, why hasn’t he been snatched up yet?” she asked.

  Because he has serious trust and abandonment issues.

  But I didn’t tell her that.

  Needless to say, last night was mentally exhausting but not unbearable.

  I am gathering my toiletries from my bag when I look up to see Leah walk into my room with a glass of ice water in her hands and look disappointed because I am up and getting ready for my shower. She turns on her heel and exits the room.

  I knew she wasn’t bluffing.

  Leah and Adam’s wedding is absolutely stunning and completely romantic. Standing by her side in my crimson chiffon dress, I cried during the service because those two romantic fools wrote their own vows and if you didn’t believe in love, just watching Leah and Adam would have you writing sonnets to the first person you saw.

  The look on their faces as Leah was walking down the aisle and Adam waiting impatiently for her to get to him was breathtaking. As excited as she was all morning, Leah was nothing but calm and composed at the thought of marrying the man she loves. Adam had tears in his eyes as she came toward him, the two wearing matching grins. When she made it to the altar they grabbed onto each other’s hands and I swear they’ve been glued to each other since. Eighty guests watched them exchange “I dos” and promise forever to each other.

  Everyone should be loved as much as they love each other. Have I ever been? Lord knows I have felt more loved by a man in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life. He may not have uttered the words but Alexander has shown it repeatedly.

  Maybe I was wrong for not fighting for him. Alexander’s never had someone fight for him. The man has abandonment issues and I did the worst thing—I abandoned him.

  As soon as pictures are over and we make it to the reception hall, I run up to the bridal suite. I have to call him. I need to tell him I was wrong.

  While Leah and Adam mingle with guests at the cocktail hour, I lock myself in the bathroom of the bridal suite and take out my phone. I let it ring.

  And ring.

  And ring.

  Until I get voice mail.

  He didn’t pick up. He always picks up the phone when I call him. Am I too late? Has he given up on us?

  This isn’t something I was planning on saying to his voice mail but I am so inspired right now by Leah and Adam’s love and the complete feelings of forever I have for Alexander I can’t hold back. When the beep comes on the other line I start to talk.

  “Alex. I . . . I’m so sorry. I should have brought you with me. I should have fought for you. I have been blaming you for leaving me in Italy but I did worse to you. It’s so much worse because . . . I love you. This is probably the least romantic way to tell you but I am in love with you, and I wish you were here. I’m miserable. I need you, and I want you. You should be here with me. I just—call me back. I need to hear your voice.” I am about to hit the red end button when I throw in, “It’s Emma by the way. Okay . . . bye.” I hang up and then feel like a total fool.

  So much for the controlled Emma. I am seriously losing it.

  I make my way to the banquet room and stand in line outside the doors with the rest of the bridal party getting ready to be introduced. I am paired with Adam’s brother, Landon, and when our names are called we walk in with our arms raised, dancing to the music and the crowd cheers. We take a spot on the dance floor and clap along to the song playing as the DJ introduces “for the first time, Mr. And Mrs. Adam Reingold.”

  The r
oom erupts in louder applause as the bride and groom come in arm-in-arm with foolish grins, fist pumping in the air. The music goes from a fast-paced dance beat to a slow country love song they chose for their first dance.

  My mind keeps on wandering to thoughts of Alexander. I wish I had my cell phone with me. I left it upstairs in the bridal suite and now I can’t stand the thought of possibly missing his call. My arm is pulled and I look over to see Landon motioning for me to join him on the dance floor. Apparently the bridal party was called to dance. I am so lost in thought I didn’t even hear the DJ make the announcement. I take his hands and start to dance. Around us the dance floor starts to fill with more people and soon almost all the guests of the wedding are on the dance floor.

  I feel so awkward dancing with Landon. His height is too short and his hands are too rough. His hand on my back feels tense and he has these light eyes that are so far from the beautiful golden ones I fell in-love with.

  Golden eyes that are staring back into mine and tapping Landon on the shoulder.

  “May I cut in?” Alexander asks from behind Landon who turns around and has to look up to answer him.

  Without saying a word, Landon lets me go and backs away from the dance floor.

  My mouth is wide open.

  Alexander Asher.

  He’s here.

  He is standing right in front of me on the dance floor of my sister’s wedding. Wearing a black suit that showcases his perfect frame, hugging his broad shoulders and coming in at a tapered waist. A crisp white shirt offsets his gorgeous bronzed skin and a silver tie polishes off his extraordinary look. He is magnificent and powerful, commanding and exotic.

  It is too much to take in.

  He takes my limp hands that have fallen to my side and raises them, resting on his shoulder and cradles the other close to his heart as his other arm snakes around my waist and pulls me in.

  I feel him sigh in relief as our bodies join.