ETERNAL

by Cecy Robson

  “You can’t help her,” he says. “She’s beyond what you’re capable of.”

  “I have to find a way.” My voice cracks, revealing the traces of my splintered soul.

  “Why?” he asks. “Look, I’m the first person to help someone who needs it, but not at the expense of my life—”

  “She’s my mother.”

  Landon doesn’t move, horror claiming his features in a way I wish they wouldn’t.

  “Her name’s Fernie,” I add.

  There are a million things I could have said a million ways better. As it is, I barely managed as much as I did.

  “Why . . .” He swallows hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  My eyes sting, although I don’t want the tears to come. “It’s not something you tell anyone.”

  “Ever,” I want to say. But that’s not true. Not anymore.

  I use the sheet to wipe my eyes. “I don’t have the kind of mother you do, Landon. But your mother is the kind I always wanted.” Thinking of Landon’s mother, and how much they adore each other makes everything so much harder to say. “Fernie started using marijuana young, in middle-school from what I understand. By the time she reached high school, she was experimenting with heavier drugs. My grandmother told me she stopped when she became pregnant with me, and for a long time, she didn’t use anything. But then she did.” I try to steady my voice, but simply can’t. “As sick as she was, she realized she could no longer take care of me.”

  “Is that why you were raised by your grandmother?”

  “Fernie was young,” I reply. “Only fifteen when she had me. She promised Mamita she could do better and be better, and sometimes she could. But her addiction was always stronger than she was.”

  I give myself a moment, and maybe give Landon one, too. He had been waiting for me to tell him more about my past. I can tell by the sense of compassion lighting his brown eyes.

  “What about your father?” he asks. “Where was he?”

  Yet another strike against me. “I don’t know who he is,” I say, shame finding its way into each syllable. “I never met him.”

  Landon waits, guessing there’s more to say. He’s right. “There was speculation about a young man who lived close by. But no one was completely sure. I don’t think Fernie knew either. The lifestyle she fell into was one of promiscuity or men who didn’t care much about consent.” I try to pull the sheet closer to my chin, feeling more exposed. But it’s already as high as it will go. “I saw him a few times, and he always looked at me when I walked by. He never approached though, and I never felt right approaching him.”

  Landon rubs his eyes, the way he does when he’s stressed. I almost expect him to stand and pace. Instead he drops his hand away, unveiling the sympathy claiming his features. “Is Fernie the reason you left New Jersey?” he asks. “I get the feeling she made her way down here first.”

  I nod, thinking back. “Mamita died unexpectedly my sophomore year of high school. No one could locate Fernie to tell her, and no one knew where she was. It wasn’t until she called one of my uncles asking for money that we realized she was in Charlotte. I finished the few weeks of school I had left, took the G.E.D., then left to find her.”

  “By yourself?” Landon asks. “You were just a kid.”

  “I was sixteen,” I explain. “Already a year older than Fernie was when she had me.”

  “But still just a kid,” Landon repeats. “Didn’t anyone—your uncle, another relative, shit, anyone try and stop you?”

  “They did,” I agree. “But they had their own problems, and it wasn’t uncommon for kids to drop out of school where I grew up.” I shrug. “I didn’t have a choice. Someone had to take care of her.”

  Landon’s voice takes a reflective tone, trying to process everything I said and likely envisioning it as well. I expect a firestorm of questions, instead he summarizes everything in a few simple words. “All this time, you’ve been taking care of her.”

  “She wasn’t so bad at first and tried to get help on her own. She followed a friend down south and was in and out of rehab. But she couldn’t stay clean and her mental state deteriorated the more drugs she used.” I look up at him. “She was better than this, I swear she was.”

  I stop speaking when anger flashes across his features. “Does she hit you?”

  He mutters a curse when I don’t answer. “The other week, you didn’t fall, did you? You went to her after I left and she attacked you.”

  I’d planned to tell him. This just wasn’t the way I intended. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? Luci, what does that even mean?” He sits up, digging his fingers through his hair. “I . . . you have to come clean with me.”

  He’s right, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. I sit up, gathering the blanket at the foot of the bed around us. “We had a lot of food that night. I couldn’t stand the thought of her not having any. I found her with another woman and . . .”

  “And what?”

  My muscles stiffen as I remember. “Someone grabbed my hair when I tried to pass a bag of leftovers from my car. I didn’t see who it was. It could have been the other woman.”

  He angles his chin to face me. “I don’t believe you, not because I think you’re lying,” he adds quickly. “But because I think you believe in her too much. So let me ask you again, has she ever laid her hands on you?”

  “You don’t understand,” I say.

  “Then help me. Tell me if she’s ever hurt you.”

  Somethings aren’t as easy as a yes or no. “She wasn’t always like this,” I say instead.

  I’m certain he’s going to lose it, instead he pulls me to him, that same way he did in the alley when his body shielded mine. “You sound like an abused woman, and I fucking hate it,” he bites out. “You have to know you deserve better than this.”

  “She deserves better than this,” I counter, curling into his chest. “Fernie was the smart one, Mamita always said. The one who would make something of herself and leave a neighborhood no one else could.” My fingers trail down his skin. “She believed that this young woman who loved animals and fed the pigeons in the park, who worked hard in school, and who all the little girls wanted to be was still in there, and that I could help her.” My eyes scrunch closed when tears stream down my eyes. “I’m not stupid, Landon. I just want to help her. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  Landon pulls away, his hands firm along my shoulders. “Not like this, not by giving her food and chasing after her.”

  “I know,” I say, ignoring the latter. “But feeding her and giving her clothes is as much as she’ll let me do.” I wipe my cheeks. “That coat she wears, I gave it to her. I’m the only one she trusts.”

  “That’s what you think, but she’s not capable of trusting anyone. If anything, you’re the one who trusts her, and today, she used it against you,” he tells me. “She lured you into that alley, Luci. She risked your life to get what she needed from those men.”

  I think to the way she glanced back at me right before those men grabbed me. She saw what happened and did nothing to help me.

  “I know,” I agree. “But I can’t give up on her, not yet.”

  “Even after today, and what it almost cost you?”

  “No,” I reply, my voice breaking. “No matter what, she’s still my mother.”

  It’s hard for Landon to see where I’m coming from. His mother and father have always provided for him and loved him. And regardless of what she feels, I still love Fernie, the beautiful young woman my grandmother never stopped believing in.

  I leave Landon to his thoughts as all those stories my grandmother would tell me flood my mind.

  “She had pretty hair,” Mamita would say as she braided mine. “Just like you. And a smile as bright as the sun.”

  I don’t know when that smile faded. I only know my grandmother would have given anything to see it again.

  “The police are
looking for her,” Landon says after a moment. “If they charge her, and if I can prove she was an accomplice, I can make a plea for drug testing and counseling.”

  “You want to help her?” I ask.

  “No, I want to help you.”

  My stare welds into his as his thumb swipes away the last remaining tear. Traces of his anger don’t lie far from the surface, yet here he is, offering to help in a way no one else has.

  “There’re a lot of ‘ifs’”, I say. “What if we can’t manage it?”

  “Then we’ll try something else.” His expression grows sad. “I’m not going to keep you from helping your momma. But I swear to Christ, I’m going to keep her from hurting you.”

  It’s what he said, and I believed him. If anyone could help me, it was Landon.

  But we never had the chance.

  Fernie was found dead from an overdose the next day, in an alley a few blocks from the last place I saw her. Landon went with me to identify the body. He did a lot of things, including holding me close when the coroner pulled away the sheet covering her face.

  The woman lying on the metal stretcher had deep set wrinkles that didn’t belong on someone so young and bruises that clustered along her withering shoulders, each indentation and injury painting a picture of the hardships she’d endured in her short life.

  She’d laid in the cold rain overnight, the exposure discoloring her skin and leaving the hair that resembled mine in matted clumps.

  But she was still Fernie.

  She was still my mother.

  Dying was the last thing she did to hurt me.

  I’ll admit, it hurt more than the rest.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Landon

  I meant to help.

  I meant to fix everything.

  I learned a long time ago, that some things can’t be fixed and some people can’t be helped.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t want to make it right, for the right woman and under the right circumstances.

  I stare at the steaks I placed on the grill, giving the one to my right a hard poke before my attention drifts over the terrace and to the sand below. Luci is kneeling beside Cal, Jr. Her hair skims along her elbows as her hand stretches out to show my nephew the shells she found.

  He tosses his bucket aside, and as if handling something precious, carefully lifts one from her palm. I can hear his giggle from here, even over the harsh waves following last night’s storm. His entire face lights up as he presses the shell between his tiny fingers to show her that indeed, she made a great find.

  I can’t tell if Luci is returning his grin, not from the position she’s kneeling in. I only hope she is.

  God, I miss that smile.

  “Here,” Daddy says, motioning to the grill. “I can do that. You go be with Luci.”

  I hand him the long grill fork, not bothering to argue. “Thank you, sir,” I tell him, edging around Callahan when he appears with a plate stacked with shrimp kabobs.

  The weight of his worry pelts me as I pass him. Like Daddy, he’s concerned and wants her and me to be okay. They’re not alone.

  Trin and my mother pause from where they’re laying out the rest of the food along the table. I walk past them, my steps sluggish despite my desire to be at Luci’s side.

  I never thought I’d have a use for a dining set this soon. But every weekend since the first time I asked, Luci and I have headed down to Kiawah. The first few, Trin and Momma took turns having us over for dinner. Luci didn’t want them fussing so much, not over her. But that’s Luci, never wanting to receive more than she gave.

  “We should have them over here,” Luci suggested.

  She was right. They belonged with us at our place.

  No, our “home”.

  I rub my jaw as my bare feet smack against the stone steps leading down to the sand. It’s been a hard few weeks filled with too much work and too much stress. But nothing I felt compares to what Luci has been through.

  When people love and try as hard as she did, it’s supposed to work out. Whatever “it” is it’s supposed to push aside all the bad, allowing the good in. It’s only right. It’s only fair. Mostly, it’s what someone as kind as her deserves.

  Thing is, right and fair, are attributes that don’t always come in life, no matter how much you pray you’ll receive them.

  My feet hit the sand as I hop off the last step, the familiar feel of soft grains sliding between my toes giving me some reprieve. I wish I could share that reprieve and gift it to the one person who needs it most.

  The wind picks up, cooling my legs as I stop to watch Luci. If she’s cold, she doesn’t show it, so focused on little Cal and the pebble he bends to lift.

  It damn well broke my heart to see what Fernie’s death did to Luci. I couldn’t help her like I wanted to, nor could I give Fernie that chance people in her condition need. So I did what I could. I honored her in death.

  The service was nice. Trin and Momma helped put it together. Becca helped too, reaching out to that cheerleader Luci knew. Blythe wasn’t much of a friend to Luci. But I suppose she was one when it counted, rounding up a few friends to attend the memorial.

  I stayed by Luci’s side, holding her hand when Mr. Ballantyne, Kee-Kee, and hell, even Jefferson and Duncan whispered their condolences. Mr. Ballantyne is a good man and offered to split the costs with me. I allowed it only because I know how much Luci means to him, and maybe how much Luci means to everyone, including the family she left behind in New Jersey.

  They all flew down, permitting me to put them up at the Hilton. No one mentioned how Fernie died. But they spoke of how she lived, back when she was young and still had a chance to live a good life. It meant a lot to me, and even more to Luci, giving her better memories than the ones that continue to haunt her.

  Luci picks up the pail Cal, Jr. abandoned, following behind him when something else catches his attention.

  She bends to look at what he found. The breeze sweeps in, fanning out the edge of her tunic and giving me a peek of her flat stomach and bra covering her breasts. We made love this morning, and we’ll likely make more tonight. It’s the one constant we’ve had, allowing me to feel close to her.

  “Hey,” I say when I reach her side.

  She places the pail beside Cal, Jr. straightening as I wind my arm around her and clutch her hip. “Hey, sweetie,” she says.

  I motion with my chin as Cal, Jr. hurries forward, his chubby little legs wide to help him balance through the sand. “The kid likes you.”

  She laughs. The first time I think since Fernie’s death. I try not to react, but it’s hard. I miss her laugh as much as her smiles. “I like him, too,” she says.

  “But he likes me more,” I whisper in her ear. I shrug when she looks at me. “I’m not trying to rub it in, just stating a fact.” I hold out my hand and he gives me a high-five. He laughs, I do, too.

  “See?” I tell Luci.

  “It’s not a competition, honey.”

  It’s what she says, but she still scoops him up in her arms. Cal, Jr.’s smile is probably as big as mine. He reaches out, tugging Luci’s hair. “He still likes me more,” I murmur.

  I hold out my hands, catching him when he launches himself from Luci’s arms into mine. “Ready to fly?” I ask.

  Cal, Jr. flaps his arms out, knowing what I mean. I throw him up in the air, each time higher, each time drawing out more giggles than the rest. Luci pokes his belly when he lands in my arms, the three of us laughing together.

  Cal, Jr. abruptly stops, turning to the side when he sees someone approach. Callahan stands a few feet away, smiling, hands on his hips. “His momma wants him to eat,” he tells us. “She’s going to try to put him down before supper.”

  Between Callahan’s presence and the word “momma”, me and Luci don’t stand a chance. The moment I put Cal, Jr. down, he takes off like a wobbly little rocket, his arms outstretched to meet his father.

 
; “Hey, partner,” Callahan says, lifting his son and cuddling him close.

  “I think he likes him best,” Luci whispers.

  “Can’t say that I blame him,” I say. I’m not the jealous type. I am a little now. But for once it’s a good thing, giving me the spark I need to say what comes next.

  I take Luci’s hands in mine, watching the way my thumbs slide over her knuckles. “I want that for us,” I confess.

  She falls perfectly still. “You want what for us?” she asks.

  I think she knows what I mean, not that I mind telling her. “Children. I want to make lots of babies with you.”

  Her lips part slowly, revealing her shock and amplifying the warmth spreading along my chest. Goddamn it, how did I go my whole life without her?

  I motion ahead, to where the waves have started to settle and the clean scent of salty air escalates with the next crest that forms. “What I feel, I’m always going feel for you. It’s eternal, like this ocean, something that’s always going to be.”

  “And what do you feel?” she says, sounding afraid to ask.

  I don’t want her scared, not when it comes to us. “That I love you,” I explain. “You’re my world, Luci, my ocean, and the eternity that I’ve waited for.”

  All I say is maybe too much too soon, given Fernie’s death happened just shy of a month ago. But the day Luci was attacked was a reminder that love isn’t something you take for granted, ever. Not when it’s real, and not when it’s something that means more than your own life.

  I could have lost her that day. I swear to Christ, nothing has ever scared me more. She could have died, this sweet little thing I hold could have left this world without knowing my heart and soul have belonged to her from the first moment I saw her.

  Between the baby talk and my words, I’m certain she’ll bolt. Instead that smile, the one she first showed me when she told me her name lights up her gaze and casts a shimmer along the most beautiful face I’ve ever dared laid eyes on. “I love you, too, Landon. Always.”

  Love heals all wounds, the bitter ones filled with distrust and resentment, and all the ones caused by those you try to save, but can’t. As I draw Luci to me, and kiss her, and promise her forever in that kiss, I allow it to heal the last of our wounds.