by Willow Aster
The word pathetic was written over and over on our house in red spray paint. Even our car had pathetic covering it in huge block letters. I sobbed as I tried to scrub it off of the car and house, frantically running back and forth. It didn’t make a difference; in fact, with every smear I made, it only made it more chilling. I felt the word in my bones. I agreed with the word…I’d thought it about myself before, so this only solidified it. I am pathetic rang out in my mind like a noon church bell.
I lost track of time out there, and when I came in, the sun was rising. Exhausted, I barely heard my mum before I bumped into her. Coffee sloshed from her mug and she set it down, taking me by the shoulders.
“Mira? What’s going on? Are you bleeding?” Her voice rose with concern and she sat me down on a barstool while she looked me over.
I couldn’t catch my breath to tell her, as the tears kept coming down. Just then the phone rang, and she was about to ignore it but saw who it was and held up her phone.
“It’s Charles. I’m sorry—I should take this. It might be about our meeting this morning…”
I didn’t say anything, and when she heard what he had to say, she looked more distressed. She glanced at me and rushed outside.
“Oh my god,” I heard her say over and over.
Someone else—Charles, I could tell as I walked to the door—was out there too.
“I didn’t know if you’d seen it yet,” he said. “I was on my way to the gym and couldn’t believe…who the hell would do this?”
They both stared at me when I walked out.
“Do you have any idea who did this?” Charles asked me.
I shook my head. Of course I did, but there was no way to prove it. This was a warning. What would Heather do if I said it was her and no one believed me?
Mum started crying and took my hand.
“I’ll send someone over to take care of this right away,” Charles said. “Don’t worry about a thing, okay? You know our crew at the rental properties will be happy to do this for you. I’d like to install cameras too…make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“I can’t let you do all that,” Mum said. “It’s too much…”
“Consider it part of your raise,” he said. “You closed on that massive property for me just this week—this will be an addition to your compensation. How’s that?”
She nodded and smiled, wiping her eyes. “Thank you, Charles.”
“We take care of our family.” He looked at me again. “We haven’t seen as much of you as we’d like lately, Mira, but you know Anne and I are always here for you, right?”
I nodded. “I do know that. Thank you.”
I didn’t want to embarrass myself by sobbing in front of him any longer, so I went inside and got in the shower. It was a weekend. Most of the kids from school would be sleeping late from holiday break, especially after Jaxson’s party. I didn’t know how long it would take for it to be painted over, but maybe no one I knew would see it.
If I’d known how small the whole thing was in comparison to what else would happen that weekend, I wouldn’t have shed a single tear over Heather. I would’ve rushed to Tyra’s house and made sure we didn’t leave the comfort of her family room for the rest of the weekend. We would’ve painted nails and watched movies all day long.
But, too caught up in my own drama, I didn’t talk to Tyra all day. A crew of painters came, and between feeding them and doing what I could to be helpful outside, I didn’t talk to her the next day either. Sunday night, around six p.m., after the house was finished and the car had been towed away for a new paint job, Charles and Anne came to the door. I thought their faces were somber because of everything that had happened, but the way Anne wept when she hugged me, I knew something else was wrong.
“Mira, I’m so sorry,” she cried, “there’s been a car accident. Tyra and her parents…”
I felt myself falling back and Charles held me up. I heard the words they didn’t make it from somewhere far away, but I couldn’t hold onto what that could possibly mean. Tyra had more life in her than anyone I’d ever known. There was no way she could be gone.
17
PRESENT
SUMMER 2019
Traveling is not for the faint of heart. Maybe if you’re not accident prone, this doesn’t apply, but D, this trip, the cosmos have aligned against me and are saying, “TAG! YOU’RE IT!” before raining down fiery missiles.
But other than that, it’s really fun.
Always,
Mira
WE’RE on our way to New York. We spent another day in Montreal and loved the city, but the list is on Jaxson’s mind, and if we can’t get to Paris, he wants to make sure we at least get to New York. We’ve only been driving a few hours, but we’re both anxious to get there. Jaxson won’t settle on a song and keeps switching it just as I get into it.
“What’s up? You’re so anxious,” I say, reaching out and stopping him from changing the song again.
“I haven’t known whether to bring it up…” He glances at me and grips the steering wheel harder. “I started to say it the other night when you mentioned her, but…I lost my nerve.”
“What? Just say it.”
“I feel awful for not being there for you more after Tyra. And that craziness with your house being painted all happening around the same time…I didn’t know what to do or say. We’d barely talked for two years, but I remember you sort of reaching out to me that one Christmas. I didn’t want to make things worse. Even later, when we—” he clears his throat and chews the inside of his mouth nervously, “—you know…” The pregnant pause is excruciating. I know exactly what he’s not saying, but I’m not going to make it easy for him. “I, uh…well, I wish I’d said it then and I didn’t. I was so stupid and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
I swallow hard and look out the window. The view whips past me and I wonder if my eyes are doing that creepy fast movement I’ve seen in movies.
“Honestly, the year after Tyra died was a fog,” I finally say. “Most of it still is.” I don’t go into the parts I do remember. Some things are better left in the past where they belong. “It was a miracle I got through my sophomore year. I kept my head down—I didn’t want any trouble. I remember you trying to talk to me a few times, but I stuck to being alone. It was easier that way.”
“I was dying for you to let me in,” he says quietly.
I sigh and shake my head. “In your memory, maybe that’s how you remember it, but no. You were preoccupied with one thing, and one thing only…well, two things that went hand in hand for you. Sex. And Heather.”
He groans and I turn up the radio, so done with this conversation.
IT’S early evening when we arrive in New York and I’ve barely said two words to Jaxson since our conversation. I look at all the buildings and lights around me, and it doesn’t feel real that we’re really here. We check into a nice hotel, freshen up, and go to a restaurant that the concierge recommends.
“What can I do to lighten things up here?” Jaxson says after trying to start a conversation numerous times.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I reply. “I’ve never been good at being fake.”
“I’m not asking you to fake anything,” he says, eyes snapping. “Talk to me, let me have it. Yell at me. I can take it. I deserve it.”
I take the last bite of my burger and stuff two fries in my mouth. When I’m finished chewing, I swig my Coke until my eyes burn. Then I stand up and walk out of the restaurant. I hear him calling my name, but I walk faster.
We’re in a busy part of the city and the sidewalks are crowded. It’s easy to lose myself in all the people. I walk and walk, looking in the windows, sometimes admiring the pretty displays, and other times seeing scenes of the past flashing before me. When those pictures get too vivid, I walk faster.
It’s two in the morning before I find my way back to the hotel. My feet hurt and even my little purse holding my phone and lipstick feels heavy across my sho
ulder, but I’m so exhausted that I’m hopeful sleep will come.
Jaxson is in the hotel lobby, elbows on his knees, eyes rimmed red, and hair going every which way. He jumps up when he sees me and hugs me to his chest.
“Thank God,” he says. “I was worried sick.” He doesn’t sound mad, but worse—desolate. It makes my heart hurt. “I’m so glad you came back,” he whispers.
When I lift my head, his face is close and his lips softly brush against mine. It surprises me, but I’m too exhausted to acknowledge it. He puts his arm around me and leads me to the elevator. When we get to the room, he pulls the comforter back and I crawl into bed. I’m filthy, but I’m too tired to do anything else. He crawls in on the other side and pulls my back to his chest, holding me tight the rest of the night.
THE NEXT MORNING I feel bad about how I’ve acted and decide I’ll make an effort to try harder to keep the peace. Just a few more days…
“So coffee, then the Empire State Building?” I ask when he comes out of the bathroom, showered and looking far better than he should. It would really help if he were ugly.
His eyes assess me too and I can tell he likes what he sees. He lingers on my bare legs and the dip of cleavage—my sundress was strategic: I’m not trying to win Jaxson’s heart; I’m trying to make him suffer for all the times he’s broken mine. If I can look damn good every time he sees me from now until eternity, I’ve done my job. Not that there aren’t a million girls prettier than me…I know this. But any time he has a tinge of regret or looks at me with longing, it feels like justice.
“Can I just say, you look especially gorgeous today. You do every day, but this is…next level. That color on you. Your mouth. That hair. Your legs. And…” He motions toward my chest and flushes. “Speechless.”
I laugh. “You seem to be doing just fine. Thanks. You ready to go?”
He nods, swallowing again and looking a bit shy. “Should we talk about last night?” he asks.
“Nope.” I put the key in my purse and we walk to the elevator.
We tell the cabdriver the name of a coffee shop near the Empire State Building and he drops us off. I feel much better once I’ve got caffeine running through my veins. We walk a block and the crowd of people is insane. Streets are blocked off and everything is at a standstill.
“What’s going on?” Jaxson asks someone.
“They’re making a movie over there.” The guy points behind him. “They’ve shut down the Empire State Building and the area surrounding…”
Jaxson curses under his breath. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” We look at each other sadly and then he straightens his shoulders. “Plan D?”
“Plan D.” I laugh.
When we walk away from the crowd, he mentions a few things we could do and I agree to Central Park, maybe even the museum if we have time. I don’t know how it happens—I think it’s a combination of a skateboarder running into me and my foot hitting a pothole—but I go flying. The next thing I know, my face is planted on the sidewalk and my ankle hurts. A lot.
I turn so I’m on my back and look at Jaxson, whose eyes are huge.
“Oh, your face is bleeding,” he says in alarm. “It doesn’t look deep, just skinned,” he quickly assures me. “What else hurts?” His eyebrows crease together and he helps me sit up.
“I think I’ve broken my ankle.” We look down and my foot is turned in a really weird direction.
“Oh shit,” he says.
FIVE HOURS LATER, I have a cast on my foot and we’re getting back to the hotel.
“Room service and more meds?” he asks, as he helps me hobble onto the elevator.
“Room service and more meds.” I grin. “I love these meds. They are the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m hardly even thinking about Tyra anymore.” The smile falls from my face and my eyes fill with tears. “That’s not true. Not a day goes by that she’s not right here.” I put my hand on my head and shake it. “I miss her so much,” I say, leaning onto his shoulder and sobbing.
He guides me into the room and I cry until I can’t breathe. He reaches behind him, still holding onto me so I don’t lose my balance, and grabs a tissue.
“You’re not so bad, Jaxson,” I tell him, blowing my nose.
He chuckles. “Now I know the meds are talking. First the tears and then buttering me up?” He moves a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles so sweetly my eyes fill again.
“Olive you, Jaxson,” I tell him.
His eyes widen and he puts his hands on my cheeks. “What did you say?” he asks.
“I said, ‘Olive you.’” I try to enunciate better, but I might be slurring. I can’t tell.
He laughs. “How about I run a bath for you? You can wrap your cast in this plastic bag and prop your foot up on the edge of the tub.” He holds up a bag from the ice bucket. “I’d be happy to be of assistance, should you need help washing your back…or whatever.” He lifts an eyebrow and smiles his deadly smile.
“That sounds bloody fantastic,” I say.
He laughs again.
“You’re so cute when you’re happy,” I tell him. “And when you’re sad. It’s not right.”
“This is the best night I’ve had since that Christmas, you know the one…” His eyes twinkle. “Stay right here while I get your bath ready.” He helps me move to a chair and when I sit down, he pauses, looking down at me.
“Olive you too, Bells,” he says.
18
PAST
2014
One step in front of the other, one day at a time.
That’s been my new motto and the only way I can survive.
Life without her is void of color, of spark, of substance.
I miss her like I miss breathing. She is a part of me that will never be whole again.
“I JUST WANTED you to know I’m here, if at any time during the day the load gets too heavy to bear,” the school counselor said.
“Thank you. I don’t want to talk about it.” That had been my line for the past month.
To my teachers, to the kids at school who meant well. To my mum. To Jaxson.
He’d come over the night of the funeral and sat with me outside. I hadn’t cried since the morning after she died; crying all night, I’d felt like I would never be able to stop, but once I did, I was all dried up.
He brought his guitar over and sang to me, and I curled up in the grass and fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in my bed with the blankets up to my chin. I never thanked him for that, but I was grateful nonetheless.
It was a drunk driver who took her from me. A man, who when they arrested him, was still saying he wasn’t drunk. That’s what the news reported and what I’d heard around school. No one tried to talk to me about it anymore though. I didn’t know how I got through the day because I blinked and I was home again, crawling into bed, barely sleeping at night, and getting up the next day to do it all over again.
That I passed sophomore year was thanks to the teachers who’d loved Tyra. They looked out for me, and until my head cleared enough to function more easily, they let things slide. Months later, when the circles under my eyes weren’t quite as dark and I was more present in class, I was able to catch up at my own pace.
Heather sniffed around some to see if I was ready to fight back and expose her secret, but when she saw how I could barely get through the day, she left me alone. I didn’t thank her for that either, but I was grateful. Nothing mattered anymore.
OVER THE SUMMER, when I started to feel more like myself, the pain of losing Tyra really hit. When my mum left for work and returned and I still hadn’t gotten out of bed, she came in and pulled the covers off of me.
“Get up. I need my daughter back,” she said. “Tomorrow I expect you to start looking for a job. If you don’t get one in the next week, I’ll make you come work at the real estate office with me, and you know how boring that will be.”
I rolled my eyes and stood up, stretching, and my mum gasped.
“Since when are you
so much taller than me?” She pulled me over by her and we looked in the mirror. I was a good four inches taller than her. “You must have grown half a foot since summer started.” She pinched my side and I yelped. “What the bloody hell?” she hollered. “There’s nothing to ya. You’re skin and bones. Are you not eating?”
I plopped down on the bed and fell back. “I could never be skin and bones,” I told her. “I’m eating. Just haven’t been as hungry.”
“What did you eat today?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in on me, as she cinched my shirt together.
“Toast and fruit for breakfast, chicken salad on a croissant for lunch, and I was waiting to see if you’d make dinner,” I said.
“Hmm. Well, I know I’ve seen you mostly horizontal for months, so this skinny, stretched out business has me gobsmacked.” She glared at me again. “You promise you’re telling the truth about eating?”
“Yes,” I groaned. “Fix me dinner and I’ll show you,” I said and she smiled.
“It’s good to see my girl,” she said. “Tonight, we’re measuring you against the doorframe. I can’t believe it. I know I’ve always said you were just a late bloomer like me and your gran, but I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna be a shorty like your Grammy Hart.” She laughed and went to the door. “How about we go out for dinner and get you some new clothes?”
“I don’t know…” I frowned. I didn’t want to leave my room.
She held up her finger. “No arguing…you’ll need clothes for this new job you’ll be getting.”
“Right,” I dragged out.
I HADN’T REALLY BELIEVED my mother, but when I got in a dressing room and all my normal sizes were too short and super baggy, I realized she was right. I asked her to get a size smaller and it was still too big. Four sizes smaller and I stared with shock in the mirror.
I could hear Tyra’s voice in my head. “Damn, girl, you’re looking good!”
And for the first time since she’d died, I giggled. I shimmied into a pair of jeans I wouldn’t have been caught dead in before and stared at myself.
