Life After Light

by E. S. Maria

  As soon as I’m close enough, I cover my brother’s eyes, but I blow my cover as soon as he mouths off a few choice expletives.

  I release him, and he jumps up from his chair, turns around and lifts me in a tight bear hug. He loves showing off his strength, but it’s easy for him since I’m practically half his size.

  “Hannah Banana!” he yells, eventually putting me down. His eyes travel to Paul, who’s possibly surprised at his reaction, but smiling politely regardless.

  “And is this the famous Paul Simpson?” Brodie offers his hand, and Paul accepts it, shaking it firmly. Paul’s confidence impresses me since he was nervous just a few minutes ago.

  “It’s great to finally meet you,” Paul tells Brodie. “Hannah talks about you a whole lot and just so you know, our little town is pretty proud of your band’s success.”

  Brodie’s eyes light up at the compliment. That’s what so impressive about Paul. He’s a charmer, and he has a way with words.

  It obviously worked with me.

  “So what brings you home, big bro?”

  He shrugs, “We’re taking a break from recording. The boys are getting antsy. So I suggested a weekend spent at home should help us recharge,” he pauses, exhaling deeply, “By the way—”

  “Wait, hold that thought,” I plant my hand on Brodie’s shoulder, halting him from continuing. “I’ll just introduce Paul to the rest of the boys.”

  He opens his mouth, but closes it straight after I brush past him with Paul in tow.

  I give all three of them a hug, introducing Paul as I go. The girls I find out aren’t groupies, but Shane’s and Derek’s girlfriends. I think I’m more surprised that these two commitment-phobes are actually in a serious relationship.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love these guys like they’re my brothers. On top of that, they’re amazing human beings, but man, they are idiots when it comes to girls. I’m just glad two of those girls saw past that and took them seriously.

  I notice the boys looking at each other uneasily, and I guess it’s weird seeing me with a guy who’s not ... God, I shouldn’t even be mentioning his name.

  “Well, we’d love to stay, but it’s our anniversary, and I’d like to spend it with my boyfriend instead of you all.” They erupt in congratulatory cheers and playful banter. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be inside the house.” I wave and blow kisses at everyone, all while walking backwards on our way to the house. I even wave at the girls, who seem quite nice and friendly. Pointing at Brodie, I add, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Brodie opens his mouth again, but I’m already waving him off with Paul, excusing himself as well. I’m actually excited that I get to fulfil my make out promise with Paul.

  Just then, the boys’ attention focuses behind me, dread written all over their faces. Thinking my parents have awoken, I’m about to follow their gaze when the voice I never wanted to hear suddenly speaks my name.

  “Hannah?”

  That voice. Deep … husky. The type that hits me right in the guts.

  Damn it.

  Now I get why those guys looked panicked … or were they looking guilty?

  Traitors.

  Why didn’t they warn me?

  I stare them all down, just as I grab hold of Paul’s hand. I need to gain strength from my boyfriend before I can even attempt to face him.

  And when I finally do turn, I wish to high heaven I didn’t. His hair seems a little longer, with a slight fuzz covering his jawline. He’s wearing a dark T-shirt that shows off his now full-sleeved, tattooed arms. His eyes, green and intense, focus only at me like we’re the only two people here.

  Shit.

  I shouldn’t have stared into those eyes because it doesn’t take long before they begin to draw me in. Now I’m losing myself in them … again. It’s like I’m back to being the hopeless girl that has a serious crush on an unattainable boy. My breathing starts to hasten, and my heart starts beating like it’s about to jump right out of my chest.

  He’s the only person able to make my heart do that.

  I used to love it. Now I fucking hate it.

  He doesn’t deserve this kind of reaction from me.

  I just wish he didn’t look or smell this good. That doesn’t help matters at all.

  Over a year ago, I would’ve given anything to see him again even for one last time. I have questions that needed answers … and a hand that could do with some slapping.

  “Hannah?” I hear my name being whispered again, but this time it’s from Paul.

  It thankfully brings me back to my senses.

  So I tighten my hold on Paul as I start leading him back in the house.

  “Atticus,” I nod back curtly as we walk past him, but not before noticing his jaw clenching as he sees me holding Paul’s hand.

  What does he expect? That I’d drop everything and everyone just for him?

  As we take the steps up to my place, I can feel my hair rising, and my skin tingling. I know he’s watching my every move. I always know when his eyes are on me.

  Good.

  I’m going to take great delight in knowing Atticus is witnessing Paul and me, hand in hand, walking up the steps to the house. I hope he also sees us go up the stairs and into my bedroom.

  I hope he knows that I’m going to make the hell out with Paul.

  I want him to realise what he lost, what he could’ve had.

  So why in the hell do I feel so damn guilty right now?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Present Day

  This is the first time in a long while that I’m waking up with a sense of purpose.

  I get out of bed; take a shower; dress up in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers; and tie my hair in a ponytail.

  I don’t know how I look, but on the inside, I feel good. Still not great, but I’m starting to feel like I’m ready to restart my life again.

  I hear a knock on the door, followed by Brodie calling my name.

  “You ready, Hannah? Have some breakfast before we go, yeah?”

  “Okay,” I grab the CD on my night table. Something I prepared the night before. Then I open the door with a smile on my face. I’m surprised at how oddly nice it feels. I haven’t been smiling this big in the mornings for a while now. “I need you to take me somewhere first. No, actually, make it two stops.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Brodie’s worried voice isn’t doing much to alleviate the bundle of nerves that have accumulated inside of me. I felt so confident on the way, but now, I’m so close to backing out, that all I need is a small sign telling me this is a bad idea and I’ll tell Brodie to do a U-turn.

  “No. I didn’t know exactly what to expect on the way. But we’re here, and I know it’s something I need to do if I ever want to move on with my life. I need some kind of closure, Brodie.”

  He sighs, “Okay. But I’m walking with you.”

  I nod, chewing on my lower lip. He steps out from his side of the car and collects me. Holding both the CD and a recent purchase from my first stopover securely in one arm, I hold my brother’s arm tightly as he leads me up the path to where I need to go.

  “We’re here, Hannah,” he whispers and halts his steps, and in an instant, my stomach turns and twists repeatedly.

  Don’t chicken out now. You can do this, Hannah. You have to do this.

  “Brodie … I’m … I’m actually scared.” A knot feels stuck in my throat, feeling too overwhelmed that I’m starting to break in cold sweat.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll give you your space, but I’ll be here with you. Just breathe, Han. Breathe,” he tells me firmly, reassuring me by placing his hand over mine.

  I try to breathe slow, deep breaths until my shot nerves begin to calm down.

  “Okay,” I nod, “I’m ready. Please lead me to Paul. Oh, and thanks for giving me some alone time with him.”

  “Of course, Han. But call for me if you need to, and I’ll come over. Alright, here he is.” Brodie gently takes both of my hands in his, and as
soon as he lays them on the cold, smooth surface, whatever composure I had left begins to disintegrate. My legs start to buckle, my whole body shakes uncontrollably, and like a dam with cracked and damaged walls, my tears spill out with no resistance. The bouquet of white roses I bought from the flower shop feels like lead making it near impossible to place on top of the headstone.

  All the sadness, the loss, the grief, and the guilt … I feel them all at once like a sharp, but jagged stab to the heart―one painful strike after the next. The agony is too hard to bear, but I know I deserve every single blow.

  I’m now slumped, deflated, knees-first on the grass, tracing each letter of his name with my fingertips.

  P-A-U-L … D-A-M-I-E-N … S-I-M-P-S-O-N …

  The pain is more excruciating with every letter I trace with my trembling fingertips, so excruciating that I wish I’m able to physically rip my heart out to if it eases the pain.

  I don’t want this reality.

  I don’t want this truth.

  “Oh, Paul. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper, trying to imagine him merely inches from me, but the sadness in his imagined features is torturous. I clutch my chest, sobbing furiously, my head bowed in great sorrow.

  “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m sorry that I made you so upset. I know that I should’ve visited you sooner. But I just … I can’t accept that you’re gone. And you know it’s not just that, Paul. I’m also ashamed of what I did to you … to us. I know it’s my fault. It’s all my damn fault. I caused that accident. And now you’re gone, and I didn’t … I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. They told me I was in a coma. And by the time they let me out of the hospital, you were already buried. Now it’s too late and I’m scared that you’d never forgive me because I failed you so many times. You were so angry with me that night. You had every right to be. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you at all.”

  I stop to catch my breath in-between sobs. And that’s when I feel my brother’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently in an attempt to comfort me.

  Brodie whispers, “If this gets too hard, then I’ll take you home if you want to.”

  “No,” I answer back, shaking my head. “I have to do this. It’s taken me this long to find the strength to do this, and I’m not leaving until Paul hears me out. Please, just give me some space again,” I beg.

  He sighs, and he gives my shoulder another squeeze before I hear the shuffle of his feet on the grass as he’s moving away.

  I turn back to the headstone, closing my eyes and imagining him sitting in front of me again. “I miss you, Paul. You were the perfect man. And you made me feel like I was your perfect woman. You were patient with me, and you loved me the way I know I didn’t deserve to be loved. I just wish that I got another chance to see you again, even just once. But I’m paying for my sins now. The accident made me lose my eyesight too. They said that the chances of my vision coming back are basically zero. I’m blind now, Paul. But I’d gladly stay blind, if it means you get to live. God … I don’t want to remember you like this. You deserve so much better than this, Paul. And now you’re gone because of me,” I know my voice is rising, hysterical, but I can’t stop it. I need to find a way for Paul to hear me beg for his forgiveness.

  “Han, stop!” Brodie interrupts me again. “No one is blaming you for what happened. How the hell can this be your fault? If Paul were alive, you know he won’t blame you either. He lov—”

  “You don’t know what happened between us before the accident. He hated me, Brodie. What if his last thoughts before he passed was that he hated me for betraying him?” My voice trails, and an uncontrollable surge of grief takes over me once again.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  I shake my head, “We got into a fight. I … I fucked up.”

  “Han,” Brodie kneels beside me, his arm around my shoulders. But I shrug them off.

  I refuse to elaborate. I can’t afford to have my brother despise me as well. I am the villain in this story. I caused this fatal clusterfuck, so I cannot justify being consoled in any way.

  “What … what does his epitaph say?” I croak out, my fingertips feeling every ridge and curved lines, trying desperately to feel a letter, a symbol … something, after his name. I’m still learning how to figure things out with my fingers and right now, I can’t seem to figure this one out.

  “It has his date of birth, and um, the date he died. But you know that date already,” he pauses for a moment, and I close my eyes, trying to hold the tears that have been flowing since my outburst.

  “There is also a small inscription. It says: Gone far too soon, but loved forever. Heaven earned another angel. ”

  “That’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, it is. There’s also a cross and flowers on the side,” Brodie adds.

  Without thinking, I reach for the headstone, and I hug it tight, eyes still closed, forcing myself to think of all our happiest memories, hoping I can somehow show Paul what we had. Because no matter what happened in the end, I loved him, and will always love him. Then, I place the CD I’ve been clutching so tightly, and I lean it against his headstone. My fingertips are back on the epitaph. I want to feel the raised letters that spell his name again.

  “You’ll always be my Dear Mister, Paul. You will be loved forever … not just by your family, but also by me. No matter how bad we left things, please know that I will always, always love you. You are a big part of me, Paul, and I will do whatever it takes to honour you and your legacy.” I take a few shaky breaths, preparing myself for what I’m about to say next.

  “But Paul, I need to try to move on now. And I hope that in time, you’ll eventually learn to forgive me, just as I’ll have to learn to eventually forgive myself.”

  With one lingering kiss on the cold, smooth stone, I stand right back up, unsure but somewhat ready to take a hopeful step towards healing.

  The drive to the community centre feels like the longest half an hour of my life, especially when you can’t escape from your thoughts by distracting yourself with the view from outside. Brodie switches on the radio to fill the silence that has taken over the car since we left the cemetery. I closed my eyes earlier and pretended to sleep. It is the last thing I want to do, but I’m just not open to any form of conversation.

  I’m still pretend-sleeping when Atticus’s song, “Songbird,” starts playing on the radio. Apparently, according to the DJ, it remains at number one for four consecutive weeks now.

  Woo-freakin-hoo.

  I know the song well. I know the song too damn well. So every time I hear it at home, I switch stations or just switch off the radio altogether. But because I’m pretending to sleep, I can’t just press the car player’s button to switch it off.

  Eventually, the car slows down to a stop, and Brodie starts nudging my shoulder to wake me up.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. We’re here.”

  I slowly shift my position, faking a yawn as I stretch my arms out.

  “Ready?” Brodie asks.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready. All I know is that I’m here now,” I mumble.

  Brodie sighs before opening his car door. After a few seconds, my door is open, and he helps me out, offering his arm to guide me inside.

  The old, musty smell is familiar as we enter the hall. I remember this place well, having done after-school activities and attending birthday parties in here when I was a little girl.

  Who knew that something as depressing as a grief support group meeting can happen in the same place as something so joyous and innocent as a children’s birthday party?

  The world is ironically fucked up like that.

  “There are some snacks here, Han,” Brodie changes direction and starts walking to what seems like the right side. “Want something?”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks. Not really in the mood to stuff my face before I have to talk to a bunch of strangers about Paul’s death.”

  “Suit yourself,” Brodie answers, and s
tarts walking me forward again.

  “Hannah?” another voice calls my name, and I hear soft footsteps on the hardwood floor, growing closer. “It’s Nicki. Oh, wow you made it,” she says enthusiastically.

  “Is it just me, or do you sound a little too excited to see me in here?” I ask, raising my brows.

  “Oh, I’m … I’m just glad you’re giving this a chance,” Nicki answers, and I can’t help but note the embarrassment in her voice.

  “Sorry, I was being sarcastic and that was uncalled for,” I say, as I reach out for her hand. She helps me out and takes mine instead.

  “That’s okay. It was the same with me on my first day here. But it’ll get better. Eventually, you start looking forward to it, surprisingly enough.”

  I don’t know if I’ll ever look forward to this, but I just nod instead.

  “Well, it looks like you’re in capable hands. I’ll come back in an hour, yes?”

  I hesitate before nodding back, whispering, “Earlier would be great … you know, just in case.”

  “You said you’d give this a chance,” he utters in monotone.

  “Fine,” I grit my teeth. “I love you bro, but I’m kinda hating you right now.”

  “I love you too, Hannah Banana. And you don’t hate me.” He plants a kiss on my temple before saying goodbye to both Nicki and me.

  “Come, let’s go grab some seats.” Nicki walks me forward, and it feels kind of awkward holding the hand of someone I barely know.

  But I want to take the first step to healing, whether I deserve to or not.

  I hear scraping of chairs, which probably means people are getting seated. Then I hear a guy speak. He introduces himself as Gary, the moderator of the group. He thanks everyone for coming, saying that he’s happy to see new faces with the familiar ones.