“I was thinking the same thing,” I say breathlessly as I tilt my head back to look at him.
He gives me a quick kiss and then brings his left fist up. “Okay, I gotta get rid of this.”
“Oh. Yeah. The bathroom is all yours,” I answer with a smile, assuming he has the condom in his hand.
While he’s in the bathroom, I fix up the bed and then lean against the headboard. Whether I want it to or not, my mind goes to Gordon. I knew me and Evan would get to this point eventually, and I tried to think about how I may react, but it’s something you can’t prepare for.
I miss Gordon, and I still love him, but he’s my past and he can’t be my future. Evan can be my future, and I really like him. I’m finding myself again, and in doing so, I realize that I can miss and love Gordon and still be able to find happiness and comfort in someone else. I know he’d want that, he said so himself.
This moment has only made me understand that I’m truly getting better and stronger. I’m not a complete mess like I thought I would be. I didn’t betray Gordon, and I won’t betray Evan by continuing to think about Gordon after such a special moment for us both.
The bathroom door opens, and then the light flickers off. I watch him walk to the bed and my ridiculous smile comes back.
“Hey, handsome.”
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Evan lays his head on my chest and throws an arm over my stomach. I giggle as my fingers run through his soft hair. He moans in appreciation and brings his body even closer to mine.
“If you keep doing that I may fall asleep.”
“That’s fine with me.”
“You want me to stay?” he asks, hope and surprise in his voice.
“I’d love it if you did.”
“Then I will.”
EVAN WAKES ME up by kissing my forehead.
I groan groggily, trying to get my eyes to adjust. “Hey,” I murmur.
“I’m gonna head to my house to get ready, but I’ll see you later on, okay?” he says, cupping my cheek in his hand.
I nod, giving him a smile. “Okay.”
“Phoenix,” he breathes my name. “Last night.” He doesn’t even finish. He just shakes his head and leans down to kiss my forehead. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
“You know where to find me,” I reply with a grin.
“I sure do. I’ll talk to you later,” he says, walking towards the door.
“Kay,” I say softly, turning to my side.
The clock tells me it’s only six in the morning, and as much as I want to curl back up and fall asleep, I have a feeling I won’t be able to. After about twenty minutes of staring into space and re-living my night with Evan, my phone rings.
I let out a low groan, because I only know one person who would call me this early.
“Hello, Mother,” I answer.
“Phoenix,” she greets stiffly. “You’re awake?” Her question is drenched in surprise.
“It’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”
I hear her scoff. “Anyway, I was just calling to check on you. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
Suspicious alarms go off. My mother never calls to check on me. When she calls, it’s always for a reason.
“Oh?” I muse. “Well, I’m fine.”
“My friend Kristy saw you the other day.”
She lets the statement sit there, obviously wanting me to ask what her friend saw.
“I don’t think I know a Kristy.”
“Sure you do. Her husband works with your father. Surely you’ve been over for one of our dinner parties.”
I can’t help the laugh that comes out. “Mother, you haven’t invited me to dinner in quite some time.”
“I’m sure I have, but that’s neither here nor there. Kristy saw you at the night market.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, I was there.”
I hear my mother let out a loud huff.
“She also saw a man with you.”
“I was there with two men, actually. And a woman. You know Max from the bar and Carol from the diner?”
“And they’re friends of yours?”
“More like family. They’ve really been there for me.”
“Hmm.” She harrumphs, obviously affected by the jab. “And the other man that was there?”
“His name is Evan.”
“And he is?”
“New in town.”
“Good gracious, Phoenix. It’s like pulling teeth with you,” she says, exasperated.
“Well, just come out and ask what you really want to ask, Mother.”
“You and this Evan. Are you dating?”
“We’ve been getting to know each other. He’s really been helping me, and he’s a good friend. And yes, I like him. Is that sufficient enough for you?”
“That’s great, Phoenix. I worry about you.”
“About embarrassing you and Dad? Well, don’t worry. I’ll try to keep my emotions in check for you guys.”
“Phoenix,” she breathes. “Don’t be like that. We care about you. You were in a really bad place for a while.”
“Exactly. I needed support. I needed my family, but you two up and left me. I hope Dad doesn’t die, because you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Who would you have if that happened? Would your friends be there for you? Or would you rely on me? Just think about that, Mother, the next time you invite people over for your dinner parties. Would any of those uppity people be there for you if you needed them?”
She’s quiet for a while. “Right. Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll talk to you later, Phoenix.”
She hangs up, leaving me with only the dial tone in my ear. I find that I prefer that to my mother’s voice.
Climbing out of bed, I feel the ache in my inner thighs, but I kind of love that I do. Looking in the mirror in the bathroom, I realize I’m still wearing Evan’s shirt. I bring the neck of it up, and breathe in his scent. A thought hits me. If I still have his shirt, does that mean he left not wearing one? I laugh, imagining him walking down the street with no shirt on. That’ll give the neighbors something to ogle at.
In the shower, I shampoo my hair and grab for the body wash. I spot Gordon’s brand in the corner and reach for it. Flipping the top, I take a sniff as tears burn the backs of my eyes. Once I’m done, I grab Gordon’s soap and drop it in the trash. It’s time to move on.
Today, I’m driving forty-five minutes away to an outpatient clinic to have my first appointment with a bereavement counselor, followed by a meeting with an addiction counselor. To say I’m nervous, is a grand understatement, however, I know it’s much needed.
I meet with Elizabeth Cain, the bereavement counselor first, and as soon as I step into her office, I can tell I’m going to like her. She sits at her desk, scribbling something on a bright pink Post-it. Her office is warm and homey. She has fresh flowers placed on a few tables, beautiful paintings of fields, lakes, and sunsets adorn her walls. There’s soft, instrumental music playing in the background, and it smells of fresh, homemade cookies in here.
She stands up, walking across the room to greet me. Her long blonde hair is streaked with white, and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth look more like laugh lines, than old age. She wears a flowy skirt with a sunrise orange top. Any nerves I had coming in, are quickly quelled in this room.
“Phoenix, I’m so glad to see you,” she says, embracing me into a hug. “It was nice talking to you on the phone, and my, are you gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“Come, sit with me,” she chirps, making her way to two matching upholstered chairs. Both are cream-colored, with very plush padding. Next to hers is a small, round table that holds a notebook and pen. “Are you ready?” she asks with a smile.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Great. Let’s start.”
The next hour goes by quickly, and Elizabeth tells me I’ve already passed the first stage of grief, and seem to be moving towards the end of the secon
d. Stage one is accepting the loss, and stage two is experiencing the pain that comes with the grief.
I found out that there are different forms of grief that people can go through; crying for days, becoming angry and lashing out at people, and withdrawing from the world. I have done all of them. She insists it’s a good thing, telling me that denying yourself of grieving and keeping your emotions in a box, is only going to become a roadblock in moving on.
Stage three is adjusting to your life without your loved one, and stage four is not putting forth so much emotional energy into the grief. I’ve been trying to adjust for a while now, but there were times when I wanted to deny that I had to. Adjusting, for me, would be to go back to who and how I was when Gordon was still alive. I need my routine back. I need my job, I need to take care of myself and cook healthy dinners. I need to go out and have some fun. All the things I did when he was alive, except now he won’t be with me.
I allowed myself to fall into a deep, dark hole, a hole that made it to where people couldn’t reach me. It’s time for me to crawl out of that hole and surround myself with people who care about me, and allow myself to be in the world again. Be me again.
When I depart Elizabeth’s office, she gives me a warm hug and tells me she looks forward to our next meeting. I have thirty minutes before my appointment with the addiction counselor, so I start heading that way. Luckily, I found a huge clinic that houses grief and addiction counselors as well as support groups in the same building. They were smart in knowing that sometimes, for people like me, grief and addiction can go hand in hand. The addiction counselor is on another floor, so it doesn’t take long to find it. As I sit in the waiting area, I pull out my phone and see a missed text from Evan.
Evan: Hey you. I gotta question to ask. Maybe more like a favor. But I also think we should have dinner. What do ya say? Wanna go on a date with me?
My heart flutters and my smile grows. The giddy feeling I have is reminiscent of your first grade school crush. When the cutest boy in school walks by and smiles at you. When you find everything about that person simply amazing. When your free time is taken up by thoughts of him. God. I’m a lost cause.
Me: I say yes to dinner. And we’ll see about this favor. Who knows what you have up your sleeve.
Evan: It’s all innocent. I promise. Got any place in mind for dinner?
Me: You in the mood for anything particular?
Evan: One thing in particular . . . but I don’t think it’s restaurant appropriate.
His text sends a jolt of excitement through my body. I feel a tingling sensation in my core and the rapid beats of my heart in my chest.
Me: Oh? Maybe that’s more of a dessert you have at home.
Evan: Definitely.
Me: I say we either go to Santini’s or Cuts. Surprise me. I gotta go now, but I’ll text you later. I have some stuff I want to tell you.
Evan: Sounds good. See you later.
I tuck my phone back into my purse and look forward to my date with Evan. This will be the first time we go out to eat publicly. It feels like something real couples do. I can’t wait to share with him the news of me starting my counseling sessions today. I know that he’ll be proud and supportive of me taking this step.
As I begin going through all the outfits in my closet, trying to figure out what I’m going to wear, a middle-aged woman grabs my attention and leads me to a door.
“Mrs. Knight is ready for you.”
“Thank you.”
Jacqueline Knight’s office is much different from Elizabeth’s, but nice all the same. Hers is more modern and sleek. The white leather couch is beautiful, but doesn’t look too comfortable. However, the black chairs look a little more inviting. The paintings on her walls are all breathtaking. Taking up a large space on the wall is a New York landscape photo, set in the dead of night, with the twinkling lights lighting up the black and white picture. There’s one that catches my eye and keeps me entranced. It’s a double exposure photo of a woman’s face, but her face is created out of fire and what looks like coal. It’s haunting and beautiful. It’s painted on a black canvas, with embers floating around her.
Another photo, which looks to be an oil painting, depicts a couple walking on a sidewalk. On one side is a river, with some mountains in the background, and on the other, streetlamps highlight the orange and yellow leaves of the trees that line the path.
My eyes go back to the girl made of fire.
“I see you’ve taken a liking to this photo,” Jacqueline says as she comes and stands near me.
I glance at her. “Yes, sorry. It’s hard to look away from.”
She smiles. “No worries. You’re not the first to admire her. However, this is a huge coincidence.
“How so?”
She gestures towards the photo. “This is my Phoenix.” I look at her with confusion marring my face. “The panting is entitled Phoenix.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. There’s another piece that goes along with this one. It’s over here near the window.”
She walks over to the other side of the room, and I follow on her heels. The painting is almost completely obscured by a large bookshelf, and I wonder why she’d want to hide this one. The picture is painted on the same black canvas, and with the same bright orange and yellow color, however, this is of a bird made of fire.
“You see how he seems to be flying off the canvas? I wanted to put him near a window, so it looks like he’s getting ready to fly off into the world.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say in a voice above a whisper.
She smiles and moves towards the chairs. Her straight, black hair falls to the middle of her back, and her large, doe eyes look caring and patient.
I follow her to the chairs and take a seat across from her.
“Well, Phoenix. Where do you want to start?”
I begin by telling her about Gordon’s death, and when the drinking began. I divulge to her my most embarrassing moments, and the truth about how I feel about alcohol. The comfort I take in knowing that when I drink enough of it, I won’t think about Gordon. She quickly calls me out.
“Now, I’m not so sure that’s true.”
“What’s not?”
“When you drink, do you forget about Gordon and his death? Do you truly forget that he existed?”
I look into my lap. “Well, no.”
“Do you instead get angry about his death?”
“Yes, but I’m angry anyway.”
“I know, but the drinking doesn’t help. Your anger grows. It doesn’t go away. The sadness doesn’t go away, does it?”
“I guess not. I just hope it will help pass time.”
“You know what helps pass time? Staying busy. Let’s talk about your social life.”
I scoff, but we begin talking about a little bit of everything. Once again, the hour flies by, but I feel confident after both meetings with my counselors, that I’m really going to get some help.
“Now, remember, we have some support groups that have meetings every week. If you want to join, let me know, and I’ll go with you to your first one. You can go to the addiction support group and the grief support group. I think both could help.”
“Thanks, Jacqueline. I appreciate it. I’ll see you next week.”
“Take care, Phoenix.”
As I walk to the car, I think back to everything she said. She doesn’t think I need to check into a rehab facility, and I hope to never get to the point where I need to. She said as long as I continue seeing her, join the support groups, and make sure I throw out all the alcohol, she thinks I can do this without rehab.
It’s time to prove that I can do this.
BY THE TIME I get home, it’s almost four o’clock, so I have plenty of time to get ready for the date tonight. Upstairs, I strip out of my black slacks and peach-colored top, rub a scented lotion all over my body, and make my way to my closet.
My nice dresses are at the back end of the closet, having been neglected for s
ome time. I shuffle through them, trying to figure out what’s the best way to go.
Red dress? No.
White dress? I’ll probably spill something on myself. No.
When I’ve almost given up hope¸ I spot one that I bought and never got the chance to wear. The top is plain black with long sleeves, and the skirt is an eggshell white that stops right above my knees. It has a lace overlay, and I know the perfect shoes to wear with it. Black, lace up booties. I’ll just have to be extra careful not to spill anything on the skirt, but this is perfect.
I drop it onto my bed as I go to my dresser and find some jewelry. I pick out a simple pearl necklace that my mother gave to me, and the matching earrings.
In my bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror with only my underwear on, and manipulate my hair into big, bouncy curls. I adjust my eyeshadow and lipstick to go with tonight’s outfit, and then struggle to zip myself into my dress.
At five-thirty, I’m done and walking down the stairs. Even though I just saw Evan this morning, my stomach flips in anticipation of seeing him again. When the bell rings, I rush over to the small mirror on my wall to make sure I don’t have lipstick on my teeth, and do a basic once over of my appearance.
Inhaling deeply, I pull open the front door. Evan’s wearing a navy blue suit with a gray shirt underneath. The absence of the tie makes the look a little more casual, and totally seems Evan’s style. His hair is parted on the side and combed into sleek perfection.
“Wow,” we both say in unison.
I laugh. “You look great, Evan.”
“I pale in comparison to your beauty,” he charms, bending at the waist and taking my hand in his to kiss the back of it.
My cheeks redden as I stifle a giggle. “Well, how gentlemanly.”
“Your chariot awaits, my lady.”
I grab my purse from the dining room table, and meet him back at the door. Before he helps me into his truck, he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into him, and plants a firm kiss on my lips.
My hands go to his lapels, making sure he can’t get too far, and I gently part his lips with my tongue. Our kiss lingers for several seconds before he pulls back, leaving his forehead pressed against mine.
Resurrecting Phoenix Page 17
