by Debbie Zello
“One minute at a time, then one hour, then one day, one week, one month, one year. I was tormented by my dreams. Tortured for about a year and then they stopped. You’ll relive things for a while. You’ll think of every way you could have changed what happened until you finally accept that it was out of your hands in the first place. Then and only then, you’ll find a measure of peace.”
“The first year is by far the hardest because you have all of the first anniversaries to get through. Now, for me, I try to focus on the living. I know what I’ve lost but it’s just that…lost. I can’t bring them back but someday I will join them. Does that help?” he said, kissing my forehead.
“I guess. I know my loss is nowhere near yours, Sky. I think not being able to say good-bye for me, hurts the most.”
“Me, too. That bothered me for a long time. I just wanted that few minutes to say good-bye. No…that’s not the truth. I want them back, period. It’s been twenty-five years and I still hope I’ll go home someday and they’ll be there,” he said, flooring me with his honesty and sadness.
“So it never goes away? I’ll never get over it?”
“You’re so young. You’ll find another man to love and you’ll have a new life with him. You’ll have the days when you think of Royce. You’ll see his face in someone else or hear a word he said.”
“I’m not going back to school. I’m staying with you. I don’t belong there anymore.”
“Now you’re completely wrong, Firelight. You went to Yale not knowing that there even was a Royce Kane. It’s your place with or without him. You told me yourself he might be leaving to teach at another college. You don’t know if you would be together or not. If he had left, would you have quit? You have to go back.”
“You left. You sold everything and disappeared. Why is it good for you and not for me?” I felt a wave of irritation wash over me. I grabbed on to it. It felt much better to be infuriated than miserable.
“And I was wrong doing that. Not selling the house. I never could have lived there again, not with what happened. But quitting everything and withdrawing from everyone…that was the wrong thing to do. I should have fought more for my life.”
“In fact I was just about to come to my senses and go back when this tiny three-year-old firecracker walked up the road and into my life. You saved me and now I’m going to save you. You’re going back. End of story.”
Dove’s wedding was lovely. She looked so happy promising to spend the rest of her life with the leather wearing Klutch, aka Ted. I tried very hard to stay out of her pictures. My fake smile painted on my face did little to hide my feelings of remorse. A week ago, I lost my love.
I found a spot to sit away from the festivities where I could watch but not have to participate. Naturally, Sky had to interfere in my plans. “Dove made a beautiful bride,” he said.
“Yes, she did. She seems very happy,” I said trying to sound normal.
“You’re leaving on Tuesday, right?”
“Are you throwing me out?”
“Yup.”
“Then I guess I’m leaving on Tuesday,” I said. I spent the next few days in my field of tall grass, soaking up all the calm I could store. I made animals out of the clouds and breathed the fresh air.
At night, I sat around our fire and listened to the same ordinary chores and problems that we always had. Everything fit so perfectly.
I packed my bag and said good-bye to everyone. I felt the weight of good-bye now. It wasn’t just a phrase to me anymore. It meant good-bye and maybe I’ll never see you again.
The flight back was long and tiring, as usual. I kept my hand on my hip almost all of the flight. My way of coping with my loss. I took the train to New Haven and then a cab to my apartment. The last thing I did was to call Paul to let him know that I was back and would be at work tomorrow.
I was exhausted Wednesday morning. I hadn’t slept well for a week and a half. That plus the time difference and the dreams made sleep nearly impossible.
Royce kept coming to me in my dreams. He said he would find me again. I kneeled down next to him just as I once did and held his hand. He squeezed my fingers and told me he would come back. I woke up with my heart hammering and my breathing short and fast. It took me forever to calm down and get back to sleep. Maybe Paul was right and I needed some help from a doctor.
I took a shower and dressed. The box that Royce’s dad gave me with the necklace was on my dresser. I put the necklace on, deciding that it was what Royce wanted. I could wear my reminder of him.
Work was awful. A few customers knew what had happened and chose to speak their condolences directly to me. That started the tears and I had to run back to the bathroom to compose myself. Paul gave me a hug when he came in and that prompted the whole mess again.
When I left at the end of my shift, I couldn’t help but to walk to the place where I lost him. I stood on the curb staring. People bumped into me believing I was waiting to cross. Breathe in, breathe out.
I called his family to see how they were doing. His mother said that Kleenex was her only friend. I understood that. Misery was my constant companion. They want me to come for a visit. Royce’s headstone was in place and they wanted me to see it.
Sky got a cell phone. That was the only thing that made me smile in a month. For him to lower his standards and succumb to modern devices was hysterical. His truck was from 1983 and I could swear most of his clothes were that old too. When he called me, I almost fainted from excitement. “Hello,” I said.
“Firelight, it’s Sky calling you,” he said.
“It can’t be because Sky doesn’t have a phone to call me on.”
“I do now. Dove helped me get one. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I said. That’s what I always said. I went to work. I came home. I showered and tried to eat something. I went to work. I felt like I was in a washing machine on a repeat cycle.
“Are you eating and sleeping okay?” he asked because he knows me so well.
“I’m trying but it’s not easy to do.” I said honestly.
“I know. Try keeping your favorite foods around even if it’s ice cream and cookies. You’re more likely to eat something if it’s something you love to eat.”
“Good advice. How are you?”
“Old and crotchety. Dove says I need an enema.”
“Eeww TMI Sky! That’s not going to fix old, but I don’t think you’re old. You’re wise.”
“Good then. I want you to eat and if you can’t sleep I want you to see a doctor and get some help with that. Please do this for me, Firelight. Your parents and I are worried about you.”
“Okay. I’ll see someone. Tell everyone I said hi. I love you guys. Bye.”
“Bye, darlin’.”
Chapter Seventeen
I found myself walking every day to the corner that changed my life so dramatically. In a dollar store near my apartment, I found a left over Valentine red plastic heart and oddly enough a silver key on a chain. I wrote ‘Royce you were the key to my heart’ on the heart and tied it to a telephone pole on the corner of the street. It was my tiny memorial to him.
The last two weeks of August passed quickly and soon I was moving back into the dorm. Everyone was talking about what had happened to Royce. Thankfully, only a few people knew that he and I were dating so I didn’t have to suffer through long conversations about his loss.
A memorial service was scheduled for the first weekend before classes began. I thought if I could get through that it would be a miracle. My suitemates knew, of course, of my feelings for him. They were very supportive and said I could talk anytime I needed to. I was closest to Crystal so I sought her out more often. I walked into her room and sat on her bed. “Hey.”
“You okay?” she asked.
“As well as can be expected. I’m glad school is starting. It takes my mind off my problems,” I said, sadly.
“It’s good to be back. I like normalcy and schedules. Can I say anything to make you fe
el better?”
“No. Everything has been said. My boss says time heals all wounds. The question is how much time. I don’t want to forget him; I want him back. I asked him to come back, I begged him.”
“He couldn’t come back. He was too injured. You wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer.”
“No. His family and I are suffering though,” I say weeping. Crystal hugs me.
“You cry all you want. Whenever you need to cry come and see me. I’ll hold you until you feel better,” she said, patting my back. Everyone needs a Crystal in their life.
We filed into the auditorium for the memorial service. Professor Miller stood to the left of the main door looking over the crowd. As I walked past, he stopped me. “Miss Dillon, may I speak to you, please?” I nodded and followed him to the corner of the room.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am in person. Royce and I had several long conversations about you. He told me how he felt. He said I would be invited to a wedding in a few years, if you’d have him. We all feel his loss. He would have been an outstanding professor and an asset to any college or university that was lucky enough to get him.”
“Thank you. I wake up every morning hoping it’s all a bad dream. I can’t come to grips with the thought he’s not here,” I said with tears running down my cheeks.
“I understand. I lost my wife to cancer two years ago. I still wake up expecting to see her next to me in our bed. I’m still shocked sometimes to find her gone.”
“I’m very sorry. I’m so wrapped up in my own grief I forget other people have losses in their lives too.”
“Understandable, I’m afraid. We all suffer from tunnel vision when it comes to our losses. I would like it if you would sit with me for the service. I’m speaking but I won’t embarrass you by mentioning your name unless you want me to.”
“No. We only had two months together. The less said about me the better. This should only be about him. Thank you for the offer but I’m going to sit with my suitemates,” I said, with a pathetic smile.
The service began with Professor Miller talking about his relationship with Royce. He said Royce was a bright light in the English department. The Dean of students spoke about his professionalism. Several professors spoke about his personality. It ended with The Whiffenpoofs singing several songs that were Royce’s favorites. I was a mess by the time we left.
The days passed into weeks that slipped into months. I worked and studied spending any free time finishing Royce’s work on his book. I was determined, with the help of Professor Miller, to see it was published.
I kept my GPA up because I knew Royce would be disappointed in me if I didn’t. It also gave me something to concentrate on that didn’t have anything to do with my broken heart.
I found another sublet for the summer and moved in shortly after classes ended. This one was a few blocks further away from Paul’s and I had to cross the dreaded street in my nightmares. Paul called it immersion therapy. Being forced to pass by it instead of standing at the corner. Maybe he was right.
By the end of May, I finished Royce’s work and brought it to Professor Miller’s office. I left it with a note that read.
Professor Miller,
I hope you find this acceptable. If you have any questions or rewrites that need done please call me. If I can do anything else, let me know. I hope you enjoy your summer.
Neomi Dillon
Four days before classes began, I received a package. In it was Royce’s book. It was beautiful. I ran my fingers over his name as the tears flowed. I was grateful for the small part I had in its completion. The dedication was lovely.
To my family and my beloved Firelight. With your love and devotion, all things are possible. Even unfinished things.
Professor Miller gave me credit and only I would know. That was just how I wanted it. The only two people who knew me as Firelight were the professor and Royce. I knew my name was safe with them.
I moved back into the dorm to begin my third year. Ashley was sporting an engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand. Crystal was also in love with a guy she had met over the summer. Emma and I were still ‘on the market’ as she put it. I don’t know what I would have done without my girls. They both enlightened and grounded me.
The four of us all had birthdays that spanned between Thanksgiving and Christmas. This year we would be all be twenty-one. One of our first discussions was about the rockin’ party we would be having. My birthday was the last so that would be our party date. I was just along for the ride as far as the plans went. All I was told was it would be epic!
Chapter Eighteen
Epic~adjective~of or relating to the extension beyond the usual or ordinary in size or scope~his genius was epic. Yup, the party was all that and more.
My suite-mates had taken over the dining room. How they obtained permission for that, I will never know. When I asked all I got was that all- knowing wink from Ashley.
There was a stern no drinking policy for the dorm but that too was overlooked for our no-holds-barred party. Emma knew an up and coming local band. Their sound check was amazing. With everyone bringing munchies and their own drinks all that was left was the decorating.
The party began with a loud vibrating rendition of Happy Birthday played by the band and sung by the crowd. Everyone that was celebrating their twenty-first birthday this year was herded to the center of the room and given a glass of some concoction to drink. It tasted like jet fuel so I only took a sip and gave the rest to John, as he was the closest to me. He didn’t seem to mind the taste.
I found a table of friends to sit and talk with for a while. As I was listening to a story, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a guy I didn’t know. “Hi.” I said.
“Hi. I’m Ty, a friend of Emma’s. I was hoping you might dance with me,” he said.
“I’m not much of a dancer but I’ll give it a try,” I said, smiling. He took my hand to walk closer to where the band had set up.
The song that was being played was a slow tempo. He slid his hands around my waist and I placed mine on his broad shoulders. He was taller than me, maybe five-eleven or so. His hair was dirty blonde and his eyes were a soft green. His smile was his best feature. It was warm and friendly.
“Emma said I should get to know you. She said you were very special.”
“Emma exaggerates. I’m just me, what you see is what you get.”
“I’ve known Emma for a long time and I’ve never known her to exaggerate. She told me you were beautiful. She certainly had that right,” he said, sweetly His eyes were so focused on me I felt shy. I looked away.
“Thank you. Do you go to Yale?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“No, I’m at the University of New Haven. I’m in the forensics program.”
“That must be interesting. I’m not that good in science. I’m an English major.”
“I’m not very good in English. I can’t spell to save my life and creative writing was never fun for me,” he said laughing. His laugh was almost musical. I wanted to hear it again.
The song finished and we just stood there. I’m not up on dance etiquette so I wasn’t sure if I should just walk away or if he would bring me back to where I was sitting. I felt so awkward standing there. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter where we can talk?” he asked.
“The TV room is probably empty. I’m sure everyone is here right now.”
“I was thinking your room,” he said.
“I’m not comfortable with that, Ty. I’ve never brought a guy to my room. I’m sure Emma told you that too. Thank you for the dance,” I said walking away.
It took us most of the weekend to pick up the mess from our party. Emma had asked me how Ty and I got along. I told her he was nice but not my type which sounded funny to me because I had never thought of myself as having a type. I just knew I wasn’t going to hook-up with a bunch of men for one night stands. I was there for an education, yes, just not that kind.
I spent the holidays at Paul’s parents. He insisted saying, “My parents love to take in strays. Cats, dogs, people, it’s all the same to them.” I had found a short-term roommate opportunity. I paid for all of December and January even though I wouldn’t be there that long.
We seemed to go from snowstorm to snowstorm that winter. My boots and coat got a real workout keeping me warm and dry. March came in like a lamb with warm temperatures and melting snow. By the end it was in the sixties and sunny mostly every day, with crocuses and daffodils blooming. I walked to work.
The last Friday in March, I walked out of work and crossed the street to go to class. I stopped a few yards down the street in front of a very familiar motorcycle. A shiny, heavily chromed, red ‘82 Harley FXR Superglide, parked between two cars. I couldn’t move away. The last time I saw one of these it was on its side, under a truck, next to my Royce. My hand went to my hip as my eyes teared up.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” I heard a man’s voice say.
“Yes, she certainly is. Do you know who owns it?” I asked not looking at the man.
“She’s mine.” I turned and looked behind me. If I had looked at him first, I would have known the bike was his. He was dressed in black leather from the do rag on his head to the boots on his feet. He had inky black hair and a goatee surrounding a mouth that was smiling at me. His eyes were nearly as black as his hair and I wondered how that was possible or maybe it was just a reflection of his jacket.
He walked around me to open the leather bag he had on the side and place something in it. “I knew someone that had a bike just like this one. It’s an ‘82 FXR Superglide right?”
“I’m impressed. Not too many regular women would know that. You a former biker chick or something?”
“No. I just dated a man that had one,” I said thinking about Royce. “How many of these are around, anyway?”
“Not many. I bought this one at an insurance sale. It was badly wrecked in an accident right here in New Haven a couple of years ago. It took me a whole year to bring it back to this,” he said, completely void of feeling. “Did your man sell his?”
