by Tina Martin
“Yeah. Can you get a Snickers for me?”
“The candy bar?”
“Un huh.”
“Yeah. Sure. Anything else?”
“No. That’s all.”
“All you want is a candy bar?” he said with a smile on his face.
“Yes, please.”
Carter chuckled a bit and said, “Okay…be there in a few.”
“’Kay.”
“Oh, and since you’re in my room you can take my bed if you want.” Why did he offer her his bed? He had never had a woman in his bed or his house for that matter. He’d always take the women back to their place, or meet them at a hotel or wherever they were. His bed was his bed. But for some reason, he didn’t mind if Shayla rested her head there.
“No, that’s okay,” Shayla said. She could easily walk back to the guest bedroom with no problem.
“I don’t mind.”
“No, really, I don’t think it’ll kill me to take a few steps down the hall, but thanks for the offer.”
“Ah’ight. See you in a few,” Carter said, then went on speaking to the pharmacy technician.
Shayla put the receiver back in the cradle, noticing a bottle of hand sanitizer and a silver Michael Kors watch on his night stand. She checked out his room a little closer than she did earlier. His personal space was decorated in such a way that you could tell a woman didn’t live there. A woman would definitely require some softer colors. No doubt his cinnamon brown carpet (and matching window treatments) would be replaced with some beiges, light pinks or blues – something a little more feminine that could still complement his black headboard and dressers. Black and cinnamon – definitely the work of a man.
Shayla peeped in his walk-in closet to find a wide array of shoes, and in her opinion, Carter had more clothes than the average man. About fifty suits filled the racks, all dark shades – smoke gray, charcoal black, navy blue and brown. His shirts were a good variety of colors, though most of them were white. Being in his line of work he had to look the part. Appearance is everything in the corporate world.
Shayla walked in his bathroom, noticing the double vanity, his and hers sinks. Since there was not a woman in the picture, it appeared he used both sides and had an assortment of cologne in the middle of the two sinks. There must’ve been at least fifteen bottles there, but one in particular caught her attention – the tall, round, black bottle of Armani Code. That was the only cologne Jacob wore and just to see the bottle brought tears to her eyes. She picked it up, pulled off the top and sniffed it, the smell reminding her of Jacob. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, more memories drifting to the surface:
Wedding plans were replaced with funeral arrangements. Instead of stuffing envelopes with wedding invitations, she was wording Jacob’s obituary, selecting the photo that should grace the cover of it…a photo that displayed his happiness and not the fear, worry and anxiety he displayed in the weeks before he took his own life. Per his wishes, he wanted a closed casket service, something he’d brought up in general conversation with Shayla during one of their casual walks a while back. Even at death, he wanted to retain a certain level of secrecy about himself. Or maybe it was that he didn’t want people to remember him that way – lying in a casket. Lifeless.
Standing in the funeral home wearing a pair of dark shades and a big, black hat, Shayla was a complete mess. Tears poured from her eyes like rain from a raging thunderstorm. Just how do you face people after a tragedy like this? She could hear their whispers: ‘That poor girl’ and ‘weren’t they just making wedding plans?’ Shayla cried through the entire ceremony. She was too much of a wreck to speak to anyone. She was there for one reason only – to say goodbye to the man who was to be her husband in just a few short months…
* * *
Tears overwhelmed her face as she cried, holding her stomach, leaning against the countertop feeling sick, the smell of the cologne still in her nose. She cried as hard as she did when she’d found Jacob on the bathroom floor in their Uptown condo. And in that moment, she felt the same helplessness as she did then. She set the bottle back in its place and rushed out of Carter’s bathroom. If she hadn’t been snooping, she would not have stumbled across his cologne, reminders of Jacob.
She ran downstairs, out the front door and sat on the cement driveway using the garage door as a backrest. Even though she had a bed now, a room, a home offered up by Carter, she felt the sudden urge to be outside, in the cold, curled up on a slab of cement. This is how she was accustomed to thinking about Jacob for the past six months. Cold, lonely and helpless – this was how she grieved.
The southern sun illuminated brightly, even warmed the day a little, but thirty-nine degrees wasn’t nothing to brag about – well, except for the fact that it was above freezing. Other than that it was still cold, especially for Charlotte, whose winters are most of the time brag-worthy. Something to urge those frost-bitten northerners, who were usually pounded with heavy snowfall this time of year, to move south. Not this winter…
Shayla sat on the ground, shivering and crying, not even thinking about the effects the cold could have on her body again after she’d just been released from the hospital. She coughed a few times, before closing her eyes.
A few beats later, Carter drove up. He turned off the engine, climbed out of the car and hit the chirp to lock the doors. Walking to the front door with two plastic bags, one in each hand, he noticed the door wasn’t completely shut.
“Shayla,” he yelled, looking around frantically for her, to his right down the street, then to his left and that’s when his eyes caught sight of her, sitting on the ground in front of the garage door, shivering.
He dropped two bags and ran for her, his heart racing.
“Shay, what are you doing out here!”
Tears fell from her eyes. Carter wiped them away.
“Shay, sweetie, talk to me,” he said, but still Shayla didn’t respond. She was overcome with grief and this time, she didn’t want to be rescued from her feelings. She wanted to cry, to get this out of her system but also aware that there would never be a full recovery from what she suffered with Jacob. There wasn’t a hospital to suck out all the memories and feelings of deep love and compassion she had for him. She had to process these emotions on her own, relive the horror every waking day.
“Shay, come on. Let’s go back in,” Carter said, effortlessly lifting her from the cold driveway.
In the house now, Carter lowered her to the couch in the living room, then ran to grab the bags he’d dropped on the steps – her medication and Snickers. He pushed the front door closed, walked back near her, dropping to his knees, studying her as she laid there staring up at the ceiling, tears rolling back to her ears.
“I brought some Snickers like you wanted.” He’d actually brought a box of them, not a single bar like she asked for.
Shayla simply didn’t respond. She needed the time to think about how much she missed Jacob and about this whole ordeal – being in a complete stranger’s home, so helpless and needy. The complete opposite of the woman she used to be.
She remembered days of working a fulfilling job, coming home and cooking dinner, cleaning house, grocery shopping, frequenting the gym to pass time until Jacob was home. And when he was at home, he wasn’t one of those bullheaded type men who wanted complete silence and seclusion. Instead, he looked for her, to hug her and hold her tight. Kiss her. She looked for the same from him and even relished the many breakfasts in bed, showers and cuddling. All the time she spent with Jacob was special.
Carter sighed heavily. He drew a blank trying to think of ways to coax her out of silence.
Shayla closed her eyes and drowned him out.
Carter stood, remembering the words of psycho-nurse – the doctor may recommend institutionalization – which is probably what she needed, or maybe something less structured like therapy, somewhere she could communicate her feelings and get everything out and in the open instead of bottling it all inside. Nothing good ever
came from pent-up anger, frustration and despair.
He looked at her again, took a small blanket from a rocking chair and spread it over her, watching her shiver. Was he in over his head with this? Would it be more beneficial for her to be in a place where professionals could take care of her? What would Jacob think of him if he’d put her in an institution?
Chapter 10
Shayla watched as the sunlight danced around the vase on the coffee table. She reflected on the times she used to wake up with Jacob by her side. Back then, the sun was a nice beginning to her day, a sign of hope. Now it was only a false-positive, a sad reminder of the horrible life she had to continue living without him. Another twenty-four hours of life without Jacob equaled misery.
Shayla heard Carter yawning next to her. His morning noises startled her a bit at first, then she sat up, looked down and there he was, lying on the floor with a pillow and a blanket. She watched him sit up, yawn again and stretch his arms up in the air, his bones popping, awaking from a rough night of sleeping on a hardwood floor.
“Good morning,” he said all cheery-like as if he would hop up and start his day without so much as a cup of coffee, a shot of 5-Hour Energy…something. “Hope you slept well.” He stood up tall, looking like a Hanes underwear model, wearing gray boxer briefs and nothing more. His body looked firm, healthy and in shape with visible six-pack abs and well-toned muscles. Facial hair peeped through his light skin, gave him an edge. Enhanced his good looks.
Shayla watched him stretch again, reaching for the ceiling, his joints popping more as he worked out the after-effects of lying still for so long.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked her. “Don’t know why you chose the couch instead of the bed but…”
“It’s better than sleeping on the floor,” Shayla quipped.
Carter hid a smirk. “I would not have slept on the floor if you would’ve slept in your bed.”
“You still could’ve slept in your bed. You didn’t have to sleep next to me.”
“I had to keep an eye on you.”
“You didn’t have to do that either.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” Carter stared down at Shayla, wanting to touch her face, to make her see he genuinely cared about her for reasons unknown to her but were very clear to him. “Shay?”
Shayla didn’t answer him. Instead, she thought about the way Carter said her name, similar to the way Jacob would’ve said it. His voice was filled with compassion as he called her by her nickname. For a moment, she imagined it was Jacob calling out to her.
“Listen Shay…I’m a very conversational person if you haven’t noticed, and as much as I would like to, I can’t read your mind. I need you to talk to me.”
“What were we just doing? Was that not talking?”
Carter glared at her. “Okay, so tell me what happened yesterday. I kept asking you what was wrong and you just sat there crying like you didn’t even hear me.”
“I was upset—”
“I know that, but at the same time, you gotta think about how stuff like that makes me feel. I took responsibility for you, and to come home to find you sitting in the cold crying and shivering is bad enough, but then you wouldn’t even talk to me…” Carter took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm down a bit, but he wanted to get his expectation across to her loud and clear. So he continued, “I can’t have anymore of that. If you’re going to live with me, I need you to communicate with me. Do you understand?”
Shayla said nothing. She looked away from him, towards the direction of the sunlight.
“Shayla?”
Carter got down on his knees and took her right hand. “Shayla, look at me,” he demanded.
Shayla rolled her eyes. Why should I look at you? I don’t know you, you don’t know me…what difference does it make whether or not I look at you? Are you that fine that your looks alone are enough to entice women to do as you ask?
Actually, he was that fine, the kind of man who could step into a room and have women clamoring to be close to him, or be noticed by him.
“Shay, look at me,” Carter said again, but his repetition wasn’t enough to convince her to do as he asked. So he stood up, rubbed his knees and walked away sighing and mumbling something under his breath, probably something along the lines of, this is ridiculous, or I can’t do this.
Shayla ventured away from the couch after Carter took off. She took a few steps to the kitchen, ran a glass of tap water then sat at the table alone, thinking about Jacob, as usual, while staring at the crystal vase of flowers. She fixed a few stems that seemed out of order, and then took the vase to the sink to refresh the water. While arranging the flowers, she briefly reflected on what had happened the day prior – smelling Carter’s cologne – the smell of it somehow still blazing in her nose as if she’d just smelled it moments ago. The smell of Armani that made her long for Jacob. Jacob would always be a part of her even if it was by way of his smell, his smile, the love he had for her. He was her man once upon a time and though they didn’t have a happily ever after, she would never forget him. Never.
Shayla picked up the vase, and as she was about to turn around with it, Carter stepped in and asked, “You hungry?”
Shayla was so startled by his voice – a voice that sounded eerily like Jacob’s – she dropped the vase. Broken glass, fresh tap water and lilies embellished the kitchen floor.
“Crap…I’m so sorry,” Shayla said, trembling. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Don’t worry about it…I didn’t mean to startle you so it’s my fault.” Carter walked over to the storage closet near the laundry room and grabbed a mop, broom and a dust pan.
Shayla picked up some of the bigger chunks of glass while Carter mopped water. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you another one. I promise.”
“Sweetie, it’s okay, and why don’t you let me get the rest of that glass. I don’t want you cutting yourself.”
“Okay,” Shayla agreed, and began picking up stems of lilies instead. She gathered them together and searched the cabinet for another vase, a cup or something temporary she could use to hold the flowers.
“There should be another vase in the cabinet under the sink,” Carter told her.
Shayla opened it and sure enough, there was a green one there. She filled it half-full of water and dropped the lilies in, tiptoed around the watery mess on the floor, trying to avoid the glass.
“Be careful,” Carter told her as he reached for the broom, swept up all the glass and trashed it. He went across the floor again, making sure there were no pieces of glass left behind. “Shrew. I haven’t had a morning this eventful since my blender went berserk.” He laughed and looked over at Shayla.
“I’m sorry, Carter.”
“It’s all good.” He put the broom, dust pan and mop away. “Now let me try this again. You hungry?” He walked over to her, standing in her immediate space.
Shayla noticed how vibrant he looked, like he’d taken an eye-opening shower. He had on a white Polo sweater and stress-faded blue jeans, a style very similar to Jacob’s. He was even wearing that cologne – the same cologne that almost caused her to have a meltdown the day prior. Shayla frowned when she actually got a whiff of it again. Out of all the colognes he had to choose from, he selected Armani Code.
Shayla held her stomach at the scent of it and quickly walked away from him. She’d already made one mess in the kitchen. She didn’t want to make another. She ran toward the living room, trying to find the bathroom before she vomited all over the floor.
“Shay,” Carter said nervously, running after her. “Where you going?”
Shayla held her left hand over her mouth, tears falling from her eyes, and in the midst of running and being intoxicated by her dead fiancé’s favorite cologne, flashbacks of him running through her mind – his smiles, infectious laugh, his brilliance and laid-back demeanor – she couldn’t remember where the bathroom was downstairs.
She dropped to her knees in the living room
, near the couch. A water-like substance oozed out of her mouth onto the floor, contained in a small area and as she heaved, draining her stomach. Carter dropped to the floor and threw his arms around her back.
“Shay, you okay?” he asked with a hint of despair in his voice.
Shayla wiped her mouth with the backside of her hand.
“Shay, talk to me!” he said testily, fed up with her silence. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on now can you please talk to me?”
Shayla looked at him, tears rolling out of her eyes. “I just want to lay down, Carter,” she cried. “Please.”
Carter’s heart melted his frustration away. Shayla’s tears made him relive the pain of losing his only brother. He was feeling the same sadness, loss and harsh reality that she felt.
“Okay. Let me get you some towels. Come with me.”
He helped her up as they walked upstairs together. Carter stepped in the bathroom, turned on the warm water, wet a towel and blotted her face, tears dropping from her eyes as he wiped.
She pumped some soap in her hand, rubbed them and took another towel to dry them. Stepping in her bedroom now, she laid on top of the comforter while Carter took a blanket from a shelf in her closet and spread it over her. He sat next to her, watching her cry, feeling guilty for a lot of things – guilty for not being close with Jacob, guilty for allowing their mother to drive a wedge between them, guilty for Jacob’s suicide, for not taking care of Shayla like Jacob had asked him to in his suicide note and finally, guilty for not telling Shayla that Jacob was his brother.
Chapter 11
Shayla’s eyes popped open approximately around eight that night. It was dark in her room and for a split second, she’d forgotten where she was. Her chest rose up and down with a quickness. She patted her surroundings then breathed a sigh of relief. She was in a bed and not laying somewhere in the street on a flattened cardboard box or a patch of grass. She was comfortable. She was safe. She was with Carter Williams.
