Resurrecting Phoenix

by Isabel Lucero

  He wraps me in his arms and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Your emotions are normal, Phoenix. The guilt, the sorrow, the happiness, it’s all normal. You’re still human and you’re still living, so you’re going to experience happiness, even if you don’t want to, or don’t think you should. You’ll be sad, because I don’t think you’ll ever get over a loss like that, and the guilt over feeling happy when you convince yourself you should only be unhappy is bound to come. Learning how to deal with all these feelings as they arise is what you need to work on. You need to tell yourself that it’s okay to feel happy. Just because you’re happy doesn’t mean you don’t miss your husband any less. It doesn’t mean you don’t love him. It only means you’re living your life, and that’s not anything you should feel guilty about.”

  I pull his arms tighter around me as I let a few tears trickle down my cheeks. He soothes me, rubbing my arms and planting small kisses on my head. After a couple minutes, we lay down, using the rolled up blankets as pillows, and stare up into the night sky with our hands connected.

  “Thank you, Evan.”

  “For what?”

  “You just always seem to know the right things to say at the right time. You put me at ease and make me feel . . . normal.”

  He chuckles. “No problem, babe.”

  The term of endearment rolls off his tongue effortlessly. He probably didn’t even mean for it to make my heart skip a beat.

  “So, do you know any constellations?” I question.

  “Of course,” he answers confidently, shifting his body. “You’ve seen the dippers, right? I think those are most common, and Orion’s Belt.”

  “Mmhhmm,” I murmur, looking into the sky.

  “Well, how about Leo the lion?” he asks, intensely studying the sky.

  “Um. No.”

  After several seconds, his arm stretches out, a finger extending towards the stars. “There. You see it?”

  I laugh. “No. I see a bunch of stars, but that’s it.”

  “There,” he repeats, stretching his arm out even more like it’s going to help. “Three stars form a triangle shape at the butt, and then it stretches across, ending with what would look like a hanger hook.”

  “What?” I ask, bursting into laughter. “That sounds ridiculous.”

  “I know, but it’s there.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t see it.”

  “Hmm. What about Ursa Major? If you see the Big Dipper, you can definitely see Ursa Major. They say it’s a bear, but . . .” he shrugs instead of using words. “Anyway, you see the dipper there,” he says, making invisible lines in the sky with his finger, “and that’s the tail end. These would make the back legs, with this being the front, and this would be the head of the bear.”

  While he gestures with his hand, playing connect the stars in the hopes of drawing animals for me in the sky, I can only stare at his face. After a few seconds, when he realizes I haven’t responded, he looks over at me.

  “You’re an astrology nerd,” I say with a smile. He gives me a crooked grin, looking a tiny bit embarrassed. “It’s cute. You’re a cute astrology nerd.”

  His grin widens. “You really can’t see it?” he asks, still looking at me.

  “I never saw the dippers,” I admit with a chuckle.

  “You’re terrible,” he says playfully.

  “I like to watch you talk about them.”

  “Did you know there’s a Phoenix constellation?”

  “Really?” I chirp in surprise.

  “Yep. Looks nothing like the bird, of course, but it exists.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  Silence blankets us for a few seconds before Evan speaks.

  “So, I’m cute?”

  I blush. Thank goodness it’s dark outside. “You’re okay,” I answer with a shrug, going for indifference.

  “You can’t take it back now. I already heard the compliment,” he replies with a grin. “Not that I need compliments, but it’s nice to know what you think about me. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

  I feel a twinge of guilt. “Evan,” I say on a sigh. “I like you. I really do, and I’m sorry if I don’t allow you to see it, but I think it’s because I’m also trying to not see it myself.” I take a deep breath. “You remember when I told you I got a letter from Gordon?”

  “Yeah. The day I went to your house and met Marissa for the first time.”

  I nod. “Well, in that letter, amongst other things, he told me it was okay to move on and meet somebody. He wants me to be happy.”

  “He sounds like a really great guy.”

  “He was,” I reply on a broken whisper. “After reading the letter, I felt a little better about . . . well, you, but I still feel bad. I feel like he deserves to be grieved for longer.”

  “Phoenix, you can grieve for him as long as you want. Mourning over someone doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

  “I know.” I pause. “I’m glad you moved here.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts up. “Me too.”

  “You seem like a great guy, too,” I admit.

  “That’s because you haven’t seen my twisted, sadistic, evil side yet,” he jokes, making what I assume is an evil face.

  A laugh bursts out of me. “You can’t pull off twisted and sadistic. You’re caring and nice.”

  He frowns. “That doesn’t make me sound too cool.”

  “You must not know what cool is. Cool is a guy who used to be on the swim team, knows astrology, takes girls on dates in the back of his truck, brings them flowers, makes them dinner, and has a lot of patience.”

  He chuckles. “Patience?”

  “You’ve been dealing with me,” I say with a shrug.

  “Well, I never knew those things were things women thought were cool. I thought women liked bad boys.”

  “Women are fickle creatures. We like a man who we know can protect us from danger, but never have to fear his own danger. We want a true man’s man, but one who will bring us flowers from time to time, or watch chick flicks with us. We want a man who has a good sense of humor and can make us laugh, but isn’t an immature shit head.”

  I smile at him and he laughs. “Well. Okay, then.”

  “Don’t worry, Evan. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Still not afraid of my evil nature?” he asks with a wicked grin.

  “Nope,” I say, making a popping noise with the p.

  He moves closer, almost leaning over me. “What about my sadistic tendencies?”

  “Which would those be?” I whisper.

  He lets out a low growl. “I like to bite.”

  “Oh?” My voice quivers.

  “Mm,” he moans, leaning closer.

  His face goes to the crook of my neck and I feel his tongue lick a small section of skin below my ear. Goose bumps race down the right side of my body. He plants a few small kisses on the side of my neck, and I let out a seductive moan, my body squirming below him.

  He catches a small amount of flesh between his teeth and bites down. I sound like a wanton woman as I cry out, my back arching, and my hands reaching for a place on his body. He quickly kisses the same spot and repeats the action down my neck, near my collarbone, and on my chest.

  Each time, I let out a lustful moan, scratching at his back through his shirt, pushing my thighs together, searching for friction. He doesn’t push his body into mine, though, and he doesn’t put his hands on me at all. It’s driving me crazy.

  “Evan,” I murmur, knowing it sounds like a plea.

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, he licks and kisses his way up my throat, making me tilt my head back even further.

  Even with my eyes closed, I know his mouth is hovering over mine. I wait for the moment that our lips touch, but it doesn’t happen.

  “God, I want you,” he says, his voice a low rumble. I feel his lips barely brush over mine as he talks. “So bad.” I gulp before licking my lips and opening my eyes to meet his. “But not
here, and not now. You deserve more than the back of a truck, and I want to be absolutely sure that you’re prepared for something more between us.”

  “You really are evil,” I manage to get out. He looks adorably confused. “The way you teased me was one hundred percent torturous.”

  His mouth forms into an amused grin. “I’m sorry.”

  “Except you’re not.”

  His face is still hovering over mine, so I finally take the initiative and push myself up just enough to touch my lips to his. It’s the first time I’ve made a move on him, but my body moved before I even had time to think about it.

  When I pull back after the quick peck, I can see the surprise written all over his face, so I push up and give him one more kiss.

  “I appreciate the respect you have for me,” I tell him. “Thank you for thinking about my feelings.”

  He sits back, pulling me into a sitting position with him. “Of course. Now, let’s get out of here. I should have you home at a respectable time.”

  I grin and shake my head.

  When he pulls up to my house, he turns in his seat and faces me. “Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. I had a really good time.”

  He nods, giving me a smile, before climbing out of the truck and walking around to my side. The door opens, and he offers me his hand to help me out. After walking me to my door, I remember the note in my pocket.

  “Oh, I have something for you, but don’t read it until you get home.”

  He grins, taking the slip of folded up paper from me. “Oh? Is it a check yes or no kind of deal?”

  I playfully shove him in the shoulder. “No.”

  He pulls my phone from his pocket and hands it over to me. “Guess I should give this back.”

  “Oh, I totally forgot about it,” I say, palming the phone.

  He gives me a mischievous smile, like he’s in on some joke, but all he says is, “Goodnight, Phoenix.”

  “Goodnight, Evan.”

  He ends our night with one final kiss before sauntering towards his truck and out of my driveway.

  Two minutes later, as I’m just entering my bedroom, my phone dings. I bring the phone up and glance at the image that was just sent to me.

  It’s a photo of me out at the lake. The sun’s rays are beaming through clouds behind me, and I’m gazing right into the camera, and I look happy. Genuinely happy.

  The number isn’t programmed into my phone, but I know it’s Evan. He must have texted himself the picture from my phone when I was tidying up the back of the truck.

  I immediately drop to the bed and type out a text.

  Me: You’re pretty sneaky, Mr. Tyler.

  His response is instantaneous.

  Evan: You’re exceptionally beautiful, Ms. Nightingale.

  I fall onto my back, clutching the phone to my chest with the cheesiest Cheshire cat grin on my face. I suddenly remember the other photos that were taken, and quickly scroll through my camera roll and find the ones of me and him.

  There’s one with him kissing my cheek, and me once again staring into the camera, looking like a love-struck fool, that came out really great. Another one, in which both of us are smiling into the camera looks really good, too, because while it’s a bit off center, it captures some of the beauty behind us.

  I stare at the photos for a bit before deciding to send him one of them.

  Me: Okay, fine. I admit it. You’re pretty hot.

  “SO, ARE YOU going to meet us there, or do you want to ride with us?” I ask Marissa, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder as I throw some laundry into the dryer.

  “Us, huh? Since when did you become us?” she replies, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

  I make a clucking noise. “You know what I mean.”

  “How are Carol and Max getting there?”

  “They’re both driving separately.”

  “Well, I’ll just drive myself there and meet up with you guys.”

  “You sure?” I ask, throwing the basket on top of the dryer and going back to the kitchen.

  “Yeah. Did you and Evan hang out yesterday? And you better tell me the truth, because I found out you haven’t told me everything yet,” she scolds.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Well, let’s just say I know there’s been some mouth connections going on.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Mouth connections?”

  “Yes, Nix. You two are closer than you led on.”

  I sigh, rinsing out a glass and placing it on the counter. “I just don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

  “Are you feeling guilty?” she asks softly.

  Realizing this might turn into a long conversation, I walk over to the couch and lie down like I’m at a shrink’s office. “Kind of,” I admit. “Gordon’s letter really helped, but when I’m with Evan and we’re laughing and just having a good time, I wonder if he’s thinking how I could do that. How could I not care about Gordon? Does that make sense?”

  “I doubt he thinks that, Nix.”

  “Maybe not,” I say with a sigh. “We had a little impromptu date last night.”

  Marissa gasps. “What?”

  “Well, he told me he was just gonna be driving around to get a feel for the area and asked if I wanted to go. We ended up at Mountain Lake, and he surprised me with a little picnic in the back of his truck, blankets and all.”

  “Aww! That’s so sweet. I haven’t been on a date in so long!”

  “It was really nice. We took a couple photos together, and then laid in the back of the truck and talked.” I pause. “I really like him, Marissa. Yesterday, things got a little . . .”

  “Sexy?” she muses.

  “Well, yeah, kind of.” I smile, remembering the night. “He teased me by touching and kissing me everywhere except where I wanted, and voiced his interest in me, but said he didn’t want anything to happen out there, and wanted to make sure I was ready for something more. I think he’s worried I’ll freak out if anything happens between us, and I don’t blame him. I don’t know how I may react, but I know last night I wanted something to happen.”

  “That’s good, though,” Marissa adds. “That’s a step forward. Before Evan, I’m sure you didn’t even contemplate the idea of being with anybody in an intimate way.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t. I told him about my drinking.”

  Marissa’s quiet for a few seconds. “What did he say?”

  “He kind of figured. He’s witnessed me drinking a few times. He said his dad was an alcoholic, so he doesn’t drink. I’m thinking something happened between him and his father. He didn’t say a whole lot, but there’s a story there.”

  “Yeah. I’ve known people who’ve had alcoholic parents and still had an occasional drink. Something bad must’ve happened to scare him away from it.”

  “I’m not gonna push him to talk about it.”

  “Have you asked him anything about himself?” she questions.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like, what does he do during the day? Has he found a job here yet? Is he close to his family? Why did he move here from California? When was his last relationship?”

  I sigh. “I haven’t asked. He just told me he needed a change from California, but I don’t know about the other stuff.”

  “I know you guys have only known each other for a couple weeks or so, but eventually you’ll need to ask some deeper questions. He already knows about Gordon, about your drinking, but hasn’t divulged anything serious to you.”

  “We’ll get there,” I murmur softly.

  “All right, all right. I’m gonna let you go, but I’ll talk to you later.”

  “We’re driving up there around five-thirty,” I tell her.

  “Okay.”

  We say goodbye, and I continue to lie across the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I suppose Marissa’s right, if I’ve been able to open up to him about my life,
I should feel comfortable enough asking him about his.

  My phone dings in my hand and I bring it up to my face to read the text message.

  Evan: Hey.

  That one word makes me smile. It’s not much of a message, but it tells me he was thinking about me enough to want to talk.

  Me: Hey.

  Evan: I don’t really have anything to say, but I figured since I have your number, I can text whenever I want. What’re you doing?

  Me: I’m not doing anything. Just lying on the couch. I was actually just thinking about you.

  I bite my lip, waiting for his response. I don’t know what he’ll say, but if I know anything about Evan, it’ll probably be some sort of joke. I just figured maybe this is my chance to ask him some questions. I don’t know what it is, but talking via text messages makes me braver than I would be in person.

  Evan: Thinking about how hot I am?

  I laugh out loud. I knew he wouldn’t let my last text from last night go without saying something.

  Me: Thinking about how humble you are.

  Evan: Hey, I didn’t say I was hot. You did. So, what were you thinking about?

  Me: How I think I’d like to know a little more about you.

  Evan: Well, I’m all yours. Ask me anything.

  His willingness to answer anything I may want to ask puts me at ease. At least I know he isn’t hiding anything. Where do I start, though?

  Me: Are you and your sister close?

  Evan: Yeah, we’re pretty close. She didn’t want me to move here, but she still helped me when I did.

  Me: What’s her name?

  Evan: Jenn

  Me: When was your last relationship?

  Evan: It ended about six months before I moved here. It wasn’t that serious.

  Me: Why did you move all the way to Nowhere, USA?

  This time his response isn’t immediate. I sit up and curl my legs under me, staring at the phone. After a couple minutes, his response comes through.

  Evan: I needed to get away from the tragedy that was my life, and create something better for myself.

  His response is once again pretty cryptic and vague. The tragedy that was his life? I wonder if he’s talking about his father, or if there’s more. I hesitate to even ask for more information, but the worst he can say is he doesn’t want to talk about it.